Sip Drink Taste Your Love

Don’t make it difficult for me to worship

love’s honorable chore

I just want to worship you

Can I sip your juices ?

Wade in your waters?

Savor your flavor?

Don’t make it difficult for me to worship

You stir up hunger in me

Lay down and spread em

Allow me to satisfy my hunger at your alter

your are what you eat

I just want to taste you

Thank you with my tongue

Massage my face with the

Bush along the gates of heaven

Partake of the bliss between your thighs

I just want to worship you

Breath in a new vibration

Through you

Breath with you until

You are we

Allow me to worship you

Bless me

Just let me

Sip Drink Taste your love

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We no speak revolution no more

Where is revolution in the black political mind?

Where are the movies about black people coming together to fight injustice?

Have we given up that vision to blend into the melting pot?

we whine no one will finance those films

so we make the color blind ,no wave making

black people in white face B.S. they love to see

Do you really think if you just work hard and don’t call attention to your blackness or your culture

that one day master will treat you like an equal or increase the size of crumbs he lets fall from the table

they exiled Assata and locked up Mumia

assassinated Oscar and shot down Trayvon like wild dogs in the streets

everyday millions are tortured in the belly of the PIC

our babies political pawns  bounced around a crumbling miseducation system

guinea pigs for private companies

experiments for bright eyed graduates

trying to eat while proving they don’t hate POC

They live to prove racism is something only poor white people do

or something their parents use to do

they are different after all they voted for Barrak

naively we leave our children’s minds in their hands

and hope they get enough education to not end up as poor as we were

being too black too proud too strong too you

too different

is too dangerous

so we no speak of revolution no more

that make master mad

that makes the black middle class uncomfortable

we no speak of revolution no more

we no create art that defies the lies of vote or die

we just keep hoping praying voting and voting and dying and dying

fill your mouths with food like products

like happy gluttons consuming Tyler Perrry sitcoms

dreaming of your place in the black middle class

laughing away from danger towards ignorant bliss

self denial and denial of self

refusing to be real about the true state of us

denying the reality of us

too ignorant of self to celebrate the complexity and beautiful medley that is us

you are too busy  dismissing the idea of a an us you need, owe, and can’t really be free without

fill your mouths with food like products

like happy gluttons consuming, buying, listening, inwardly dying

seeking refuge in religion,free enterprise, and individualism

we no speak of revolution no more

we no create art that defies

that make white man in black suit spread lies

shoot gun send tax man or brother man in blue uniform

being too black to proud to strong too you

too different

thinking critically

is too dangerous

so we no speak of revolution no more

we no speak because we don’t know who we are

and are ashamed to admit it

too proud to face the self hate

seeking the status quo for affirmation of self

for a dipped in vanilla and gold all american likeness …I mean whiteness

or anything but who they say we are in the media ness.

all the while our people are still being lynched in the streets often at the hands of the police

to often by their brothers, distant cousins or crazy uncles

our daughters still fear the walk home

and endure too many cat calls

working hard fitting in buying more and more shit never felt quite right to me

and struggling within do gooder organizations is not working for me

501c3 grant out comes chained activism is killing me

so what about this revolution thing

revolution of values cried the King

revolution in the Arts sister Sonia and brother Barakka still cry

youth rise up  reverberates through the poems of professor Eware

social change social justice whatever you want to call it

somethings got to give

revolution in the black political mind must live

it rages in me

it screams give us free

as I sit behind a desk at a non for profit

peering into a PC sweating struggling to craft the right words for funders

it moans and grumbles at the site of closed school after closed school

tired of sitting in when the deals are already done

decisions already made

your protest is but a parade

entertainment for the sheep who

drank  the free market economy and democracy will save us lemonade

so why cry revolution

we don’t speak about revolution no mo

because thats all just a fantasy

they murdered, exiled and jailed

us when we screamed that loud and proud in the 70’s

after all its 2013

haven’t you heard of Barak Obama? Oprah Winfrey?…Jay Z?

look at them if they can do it

it has to be true

if you just work hard of enough we all can one day…

we no speak of revolution no more

cause we scared, drowning or drunk off that

“the free market economy and democracy will save us” lemonade

to keep comfort we gladly

keep voting and dying

sipping and supporting

“the free market economy and democracy will save us” lemonade

after all its 2013 we prefer or revolutionary assassins

cheap, slow, sugary, and sweet

Your masks don’t fit me

I ain’t grinning

ancestors wore the masks so we wouldn’t have to

I could hustle but I’m no hustler

Wannabe farmer

Trapped dreamer country muppet mouse

Locked blocked in by concrete

Barely keeping pace in this rat race

its not designed for me

I have to leave too much

behind to win

the masks don’t fit me and I’m all out of grins

Frustration upon frustration

Every move with you feels like stagnation

in this great nation

our babies are born into the crosshairs

For breathing and simply being

anyone of the many shades of we

Even after death

characters endure assassination

names images always under attack

putty, fotter, objects in arguments for

talking boxes, racist threads, smug pundits, and

viral video after viral video of

self hating, shucking, and jiving talking heads

betraying me portraying we as the enemy

for a crust of master’s bread

a few dollars and a pat on the back for the lies they spread

they enjoy wearing a mask that sets them apart

they are lost in the grinning and the lying

a growing satisfaction  with crumbs

and hopes of a seat at the table

warms their hearts

you’ll go far if you aren’t like them niggas over there

Uncle Tom, Clarence Thomas, Don Lemon

affirmations pierce the conscious of each generation

You fear the boogie man

And before you knew me

You were taught I am he

Who lurks in the dark

Standing on corners

Natural born thugs

Big black buck

Too be worshiped feared and adored

cheered in stadiums convicted in court

But rarely the first employed

Always suspect

My prospect

The latest in the long line

Of suspicious ones

Tall dark handsome

Mischievous one

Big hearted lost one

grasping for self in

pimping  always sexing rarely loving

Cause that’s what’s force fed to me

hyper masculinity just another costume

new age mask

But I ain’t grinning

teeth grinding

Even in my sleep

Cause my T’s too high to weep

ancestors wore the masks so we wouldn’t have to

I could hustle but I’m no hustler

Wannabe farmer

Trapped  dreamer country muppet mouse

Locked blocked in by concrete

Barely keeping pace in this rat race

its not designed for me

I have to leave too much

behind to win

I tried but your masks they don’t fit me

Skittles Tea

I’m on ten

so much is being said about Trayvon

I don’t want to speak

the thought of it  fills me with anger

and hopelessness

but I know I can’t give up

I know this is what the beast does

this is white supremacy this is injustice and this is not new

we know this beast oh too well

and that is why though angry and sad many of us were not surprised

it happens all the time

on  grander scales everyday

multiply one black boy dead with nothing but skittles and ice tea  in his hand

with over 100 other unarmed black men killed by men in uniforms just last year

with all the women raped last night

plus all the black and brown bodies behind bars

fighting for sanity struggling to hold on to their humanity in the the dungeons of the PIC

plus all the seniors on fixed income who are hungry and huddled around boxed fans in 80 degree apartments

counting the last of their medications which are slowing killing them to keep them alive

but what does all that have to do with Trayvon they will cry

there will always be those who deny whats clear as day

they are invested in the myth of white supremacy

they lust after the spoils of capitalism

they benefit and profit and find comfort in it all

whether consciously or subconsciously

their just happy to be middle class or at least not one of those lazy poor people

they believe he must of got what he deserved

so much is being said about Trayvon

its a sticky hot summer night and I am boiling with sweat and melting in tears

its just another painful reminder

we still 3/5s even less than that

the stats of this judicial system boast

so the struggle continues

yes “we who believe in freedom can not rest”

but I don’t want to be equal with white

in order to be valued

After all shouldn’t freedom equal rest?

talking about why the verdict was not guilty

trying to find reasoning in a corrupt system … insanity

I’m so angry I just want to punch Zimmerman’s smug face

I don’t want to kill him

he’s not worth blood on my hands

just punch him around a bit

let him know we see right through you

you are the suspicious one

with your brown skin worshiping whiteness

upholding this status quo

murdering a child thats a special kind of low

what makes us want to have children in a country

that continues to devour our young, starve the old, and jail the strong?

Sometimes it gets thick

the weight of this struggle

the reality of our plight

sometimes injustice spits in my face

I weep and wipe sour saliva from my eyes

tonight they are stinging with the pains of a good cry

tonight slow sad songs are playing

my liquor is pouring

and I’m humming along for my life

for the lives lost and the burden of those still living

today I read of a black woman who watched a old white man

shoot her 13 year old son

he accused him of stealing  guns

what made him think he could

look this boy’s mother in the eye one moment

and shoot her son point blank the next

insanity, white supremacy 2 sides of the same coin

I weep for him for her

for those of us who walk in the skins of the “suspicious” ones

for every woman who will be told she deserved it

for those of us who’s capacity for greatness

is overshadowed by lust for power, control,

and the comforts of an identity rooted in the misrepresentation of we

tonight Luther,Jill, Chrisette and Kem

are singing me through my grief

I’m grateful for the way their voices

guide me to the depths of sorrow

with gentle romantic soothing alto baritones

their melodies remind me pain is not new and love is still real

every lusty, sultry, melancholy note screams

its ok to be angry, to weep, and to love as the struggle continues

A Summer’s Night

A summers night

sweat pulsating dripping down browns

rolling over curves sliding between

layers of musk and hair

I still remember the smell of her hair

silky curls grazing over my back

I loved feeling her hair in the small of my back

tickling along my arch increasing its curve along the way

 

A Dark summer’s night

to hot to do anything but sweat

and burn in sex

dissolve into heaven between her thighs

sip of her juices

swallow her whole

feast upon her feminine essence

slip between her chakras with the tip of my tongue

loudly panting quietly praying her wonderland never ends

 

A long summers night

to hot to do anything but sweat and drink

drink in her love consumed with passion mesmerized by her lust

no lost in lust

drowning

shifting together moving on up a little higher

sinking deeper one into the other

deep in our sweat we drift

submerged in the waters of ecstasy

thick dank dark sweaty ecstasy

time melts the night swelters on

we disappear enthralled in the heat of sex

lost in the embrace of a summer’s night

 

DirtyArtBoi 2009

When It Comes To You

I have it 

I have all I need 

to do what I got to do 

why is it so hard 

when it comes to you 

is this love 

is this pain 

non sense 

the logic 

my common sense 

labels profane

 

an act of desperation 

clothed in devotion 

why is it so hard when it comes to you 

I blame me 

you think 

its you 

we collide the way lovers do 

Splashing together 

throbbing harder 

confusing surviving with thriving 

running from the truth into each others arms 

refusing to jump out of love 

as easily as we fell in

stubbornly misery loves company

confusing surviving with thriving 

running from the truth into each others arms 

renewing unspoken agreements 

embracing a silent understanding

subconsciously refusing to flee our sinking ship 

with every text/ call,  with every touch/ kiss

 

 

I have it 

I have all I need 

to do what I got to do 

why is it so hard 

when it comes to you 

is this love 

is this pain 

non sense 

the logic 

my common sense 

 labels profane 

why is it so hard 

when it comes to you