The New Child Abuse

Dipped in sugar, laid in sweat, poured into the ink pen, 

Drama keeps it wet.

Thirsty for a plot, bobbing to stop the bleed, 

Head swinging left to right, to interpret  what you read. 

Three found dead, rocks on the scene.

Change the font, adjust the format. 

Nope! Same old scene. 

Script has been rewritten. 

But the play stays the same. 

Just because you on the set, 

The game hasn’t changed! 

No eraser on the tip. 

No rubbers on your uhmm… feet. 

Nine months later, new little treats.

Dressed real cute, 

Let them watch you blow,

Your money, smoke circles and oh yeah, your neighbor, Joe.

Our children have turned to kids,

Baby goats with demonic souls. 

Drinking from the ink of the rewritten rules.

Dressed in their best to cover the bruise. 

History, a repeating chapter of book never read.

Grandma is leading the funeral cause, the preachers been dead.

No daddy, No mama, No spiritual truth. 

Queen Bey and Kanye raise our youth! 

Without a doubt, The New Child Abuse! 

My Poetry

My poetry
I have words that open the door to my sexy.
But if my sex is all u want to see,
I have verbs that represent my set!
See,
I like the art of seduction, whispering fantasies,
That transition into reality,
If you have the vision to see.
Building pyramids with my nouns,
Two stepping mountains, naked,
As the pronouns hide the privacy,
Of the adjectively delicious part of my lips,
As they pucker up and spit,
The next syllable of my words of seduction,
Also known as poetry.

MOTION

Can you please tell me why knowing that you love me, moves my mind to a different place in the universe?
Is it actually love or a curse?
I feel hopelessly alone in my space.
Existing in a private bubble until you infiltrate my thoughts on my same weird & exotic rhythm.
Then we vibe!
Like riding a tidal wave that subsides into the ocean!
We just blend in.
Separated in the sea I amount to nothing for infinity.
You are my force, my fire, my motion.
I have looked for it in others but they just don’t move me….

My back ground Music

He is my back ground music!
When I move, it’s to the sounds of his adoration for me!
He is my back ground music!
Peeling me open like a banana, he kisses my bruises!
Yes yes he is my background music.
I rock slowly to his roar and fall a sleep to his purr!
He is my back ground music!
Slaying dragons, calling stars, within my reach, to the rhythm of his instrumental climax!
Dancing in a frenzy to a hypnotic beat!
Inciting, enticing, magnetic grooves.
Moving me to the depths of my inner Queen!
Pulling me to the horizon of my destiny!
My background music in the notes of a high sexy, and intense integrity,
Resting before, the entrance of pretty flute notes singing my creativity,
Saxophone solos whispering Gods favor upon me!
Angels singing praises to the woman I am…
Slave’s hums of what I am to become!
I am captivated by the beat!
I roll my hips, and twerk a bit,
Then pop my fingers to the song,
As the world wonders, how I am so strong?
They can’t hear my background music!

The secrets out!

So many of you trying to keep the secret.

The X-ray vision of life sees through your red dress,

Your eyes lashes our fake and your hair line is a mess of bald patches in distress.

Why do you keep pretending like you got it all together?

You are held in bondage by panty girdles and quick dry glue.

You are so covered up that you lost the meaning of beauty being skin deep.

Yes you are in too deep!

 That make-up does not enhance your current situation.

Skin busted, insides feeling disgusted,

Painting on happiness, and praying for seeds of self destruction to be uprooted. 

Promoting false securities  with gel tips nails and rhinestones.

 None of it is really your own.

Undress! Stand naked and proud!

Displaying truth, highlighted in pink see-through lip gloss

So they all may be lost in the words that you speak. 

Shine the light on your inner beauty, so that it may be your halo,

Wear it proud in the middle of the day,

Nakedness glaring like young tits protuding out of  a sheer t-shirt.

 Close the closet of make believe, and dressed up dreams. 

Display your beauty as if you are on reality TV!

In color, out loud, unashamed of the flaws in  your life.

Inserting piercings in your scars and tattoo your mistakes.

Let the secrets bare your soul that we might know you.

Yes Yes dear bare your truth!  

A Grown- Up Conversation with God

My New Project is almost complete! I am so excited! Watch the  studio video and tell me what you think!!!

http://youtu.be/XXKr0go9ITI

Colors on my Face

I woke up this morning and painted my eyelids green,
Like a blade of grass on a rainy day I want my vision to grow.
Like a well oiled trimmer, my hands outlined my eyes with
black.
I wanted my boundaries to stay intact.
Added color to the cheeks as they are the rose garden to my face.
Besides it the cheeks that embrace the smile on my face.
I decorated my ears with green earrings that I might be quick to listen.
Frosted my lips with pink glaze and toned them down with a little brown,
Top them off with a hint of lip glass that they might glisten.
Read a verse from John to remind me where I come from,
Who I belong to, and to quicken the spirit that lives within,
Bow my head and prayed to God that I’d refrain from Sin.
Now I am off to start my Monday,
Remembering that is just one day,
Tomorrow there will be new colors to choose

Poetry and ME

Okay I am bout to be late,
But I had to take a minute to give an update
Me and poetry, an open display of public intimacy.
I am committed to Poetry like a MIC to an Emcee.
Letters never separate from my thoughts,
I hear the words in my sleep. I feel  them in my heart beat,
When it skips its natural rhythm, That’s a new found adjective striking a nerve.
The headaches, really just runaway verbs,
Stomachaches equal run on sentences flowing in my mind.
Alphabet soup streaming through my blood. It’s the L in my Love, the silent E in my cries.
The sweetness in my tenderness, the song in my lulabye.
Poetry and I are in sync. Really in love,
So my status updates or just an open display of my public affection, The ink pens creates my mind’s erection. A harmonic overflow of the longest orgasm of words.
Me and Poetry like my first and last name,  We just go together.

I Broke My Poetry!

I fell down and broke my poetry.
Words and rhymes falling out my knees.
Didn’t know that it was letters I bleed.
Stop trying to help me up.
Please pick the W up!
I need it to express how I feel.
Cause the F and the U took a very hard spill.
The BIG G.O.D is always around,
Today He’s angry about the words that I left scattered all over the ground.
Magic Spells, and fairy tales please turn this situation around.
Help clean up the letters leaking all over the ground!
Everyone is reading my private thoughts,
Sorry that it hurts your feelings, but what is that bump on your nose?
Don’t get mad at me!
Everyone is thinking what you just read!
I fell and broke my poetry wide open,
Slow songs slid out, and rap songs started a fight,
Two toes let rock roll loose, and don’t judge me!
What would we see, if someone broke open your poetry?!

Cocked Blocked

DSC_7607I feel like writing,

Something is holding me back,

Can’t get it off my mind,

Its got me all off track!

I Keep pretending like it may go away.

That negative vibe that’s getting in my way,

Keeping my pen stuck,

Like drying ink, a smudge, a stain on my paper,

I can’t throw it away, can’t move past the stain,

Not enough energy start all over again.

I keep trying to convince myself, that I am somebody,

That the words count, that they will bring life, therefore, I have to write.

Is my gift broken? Is it in a pretty box with a great big bow?

When you shake it,  do you hear the sounds of broken pieces?

Or did my voice of inspiration, tire of my restful nights?

All those times, I didn’t get up to write, and move to the girl next door?

Is my self-control lost in the flow of the ink blots?

Is that what it feels like to be cocked blocked?

Not being able to reach that thing you want, desire, burning with fire,

To get inside that creative mind, and write a line that will inspire and change lives,

Hypnotizing with lines, but my creative ink is dry.

Negative forces stealing my mind and my lines, I have been blocked!

No love, No lies, ink pen dry, can’t get next to you cause it is in my direct line.

So my love is trapped and there is no release,

All activity between my mind, my paper and my pen has ceased! Cocked blocked!