Naughty

Clad in a spaghetti strap brown top and wholesome cotton panties
that accentuates my thighs and hugs the mouth of my upper legs!

With my hair drawn back and torso thrust forward comfortably in a one piece cushioned furniture
Tucked under a grilled and shaded window as dusk surrounds my timid soul like dew
Dew melting to steam as it confronts the heat of the room, of my body,
of the lap top?

With the glare of this wide screen technology as my company
My lips slowly visits the mouth of a water bottle; allowing every sip to stream down my throat to replenish thought and revitalize imagination

My passion is my focus
Beads of sweat trickle down by neck and flood the bridge of my nose
Feet clasped and panties neat
What on earth is causing this heat!!

Maybe it was wrong… but I invited a feeling
That flung my “guards” straight through the ceiling
I sprung up in effort to restore composure
Frantic, I sat down…
I gripped the furniture

Tossing and twisting… tossing and twisting

Deep puffs of air released insanely
But something……. is still not clear to me!!
As I heard voices grew in volume…you see
Close and strikingly familiar faces were clear and lively

Like the view of fishes through a Windex cleaned aquarium
Like sunshine after a rain storm…

The room was as bright as day
and I shifted for comfort in a another panty

and absorbed the conversation in a tone so gaily

then it occurred to me…
I was having a writer’s fantasy

Ghost of my heart

The intent of dusk visibly floods the streets, falls on the window panes of nearby houses and circulates my soul.....not to transfer its DNA
but to make clear a new path, a new cause, a new day?

Slender fingers grew warm to the sentiments embroidered beneath its breast
punching unpredictable keys
puppetted by unpredictable thoughts


I sat overwhelmed, foaming with questions on the quest for answers
like a spade digging and digging to the core
one as blind as your eyes but as sharp as your motive
quivering, creeping and infrared
staring and exploring a mind of interest

and yet you are that spade...
unless welded to satisfy a different purpose
will never gather enough... to fathom person, mind nor situation at hand

i dont blame you.....which mortal can?

eyes stare back
for what it already sees
but are you ready to listen to its story?
or is it perhaps you cant endure what.... it..has..to...offer?

i squirmed in restlessness and discomfort
each turn reflecting images of a face one carefully and thoughtfully painted on a paper,
shredded to a million pieces and scattered to its deserving demise...or so i thought
but like your laughs, charm and depth; they have conveniently found each other
by the mending , knitting and weaving of old-interests new !!

here i lay
embracing the progression from bliss to reality
like a child graduating from the myth of monsters in the dark to the age of puppy love
both blooming vague detail but reveals its truth overtime...intime

here i lay
wallowing on the promising trails of a brighter tomorrow
i dwindled, to a numbing shape
in the subtle, hidden confines of my mind

A place once comfortable
Frozen memories of cold dismiss
three of which/whom you are responsible

And now disturbing the dust and dusk of past
that's swept by a feeling that may never last
though mutually desirous of a different start

You are sadly pro-nounced as ... Ghost of my heart!

Proud and free!

Amidst the deep-green fields, stretching to a fainting distance buries the bones and footprints of my forefathers
My toes quivered at the loose dirt dancing under my feet
Throbbing now to the pace of my racing heart beat
I stand proud, black and worthy of this inheritance and rising knowledge to impart

Dark dust rises to re-create muscular, gyrating souls and tireless hands slashing trees, building tents, ploughing fields
And even more tender but weather-beaten hands picking cotton and dragging corn bags
the heavens darken to honor naked skins glistening with sweat
sharp leaves graze on backs throwing a fishing net
On these soaring grounds i stand proud, black and worthy

The offsprings of these hands and strength, drums a Yoruba feat.
Pulsating and gyrating in mad frenzy
Staggering rythmatically, and filling the moment, every chance they get
My people slaved, anticipated and celebrated 1838
the fundamentals of this history bids my soul free
chains burst from my ankles and wrists, freedom bellows through my soul, the mental shackles have been broken
here history unfolds

Drums ramble and rumble by hands young and old

So hang your worries on a shelf and emancipate yoself(twice)
free your minds, leap with your hearts
here is where black history starts
On these soaring grounds i stand proud, black, worthy and free!!