aeia heights

like the clouds in the cerulean ocean above
the simple gust of yr whisper moves me miles.
when you trace my lifelines with the tips of yr digits
i feel the luster of yr lips break into a smile

i lust for wasting hours
climbing the lustrous ladder of yr lumbar
so i can fall from grace
and climb yr feminine heaven again

because your aura is brilliant like flora
flooring me leafing me wanting more of
properties previously possessed solely by goddesses

Artemis had sent you here to slay me
to curb my pride and remind me of my mortality.
and as i lie here with her Scorpio

i am the most vulnerable
but eagerly anticipate yr sting.

bon appétit

crack two
drop em in the mug
add a little cream, we straight
pour the medley in the pan
dance along to the sizzle
pop the top and drizzle a little
from the tip of the tapatio bottle
scrambling admirably
the white turns yellow
and the yellow matches
the color of my skin
salt and pepper
show up fashionably late
but dash just the same
the medley looks like
my brain on drugs now

but it tastes so fucking good.

mmm (a haiku)

my heart's different
it's white, round and baked. and filled
with bbq'ed pork

Lama Sabachthani

when i'm lucky enough to dream, i dream in two bar loops.

1…2...
eight counts to infinity.
not enough time to slay
the devil within me.
3…4...
i clung to thee
but now cling to the
memories of the me
5…6...
married to divinity.
knuckles bare white
i can't fathom letting go.
7…8....
i wait for revolution.
and it comes
every eight counts
1...2...

In search of...

validation
my vanity finds the right vein with the intentions
of shooting up yr attention
these track marks are landmarks
thrown darts of warm hearts
beatboxing
in synchronization
in stimulation

in simulation

i master the high
plastered before my master's two eyes
escape a sigh from the laughter that rain from the sky
and decipher why's from the flames that reign from the lie
i lie and breathe easy
for brief moments i am at peace
i lie and breathe easy
i lie and breathe
i lie.

Poetry is not the path to pussy...pussy.

i was told once that
women hate to be a man's fantasy

to be valued by her role
in the idea of love
to be placed in a position
of high expectation
to be given more than give

that shit makes me scared to write poetry

i'm a romantic
who's life calling
is to manifest fantasies
into living, breathing, realities

but more often than not, that's just hustling backwards

so i keep still, let nature take it's course, and i'll see you when yr red(e)

i woke up this morning to this IM...

---- (4:13:26 AM): :(
---- (4:13:33 AM): can u post a poem for me on blarneys
---- (4:13:40 AM): i dont wanna post it bc it will show my username
---- (4:14:03 AM): here it is...its my 1st poem i've written in like a year.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

i can't explain our story
subjective pronouns doubled up in sentences
she
stands for two different people
she
falls and catches her

because you needed me
like identification
set geographically on the west
with the sun settled down, the moon falling onto my lap
you were there, with focused eyes
all sorts of emptiness and space
i held you close as we defined our existence
on this parallel plane making up our own coordinates

you kept the sweat off my lips
kept me from running
whispered into my mouth electricity
like a dozen fireflies into a cave
fluttering and flustered, feeling funny
in this space only we knew
darkness and light we share, mouth to mouth
no one will ever understand
the subtle touch that swells systemically
like an adverse effect you'd weigh the benefits over
tiptoeing around the condition like an addiction
hiding into eachother
and fitting perfectly

one night i started freestyling to street signs and corner stores
remember you riding shotgun,
i took your hand and held it
down sunset, A thru Z
it's hard to stay under the speed limit
at 3am when lights are green and exciting
and no one is stopping us
engines hydroplaning in april, wheels spinning
they are impulsive and springing forward
like trampolines and confused bullets into brains

we'd never see summer
on the same side of the earth
she left me standing on the coldest part
with the wind changing directions every second
the compass is on crack
and i feel broken
still pinned down by her stilettos
fucked on the backburner
anger is a temporary solution to my madness

you wear denial so well sometimes
believing your dreams of colorful birds diffusing through bodies
were meaningless distortions of objects
sometimes we'll graze shoulders, hug like friends and stare like lovers
but trying to kiss you is like kissing water
you ripple away
restlessly, ricocheting apologies and excuses off bare surfaces
like a combative scream
as if you never took anything from me at all

but i've taken this
pinned you down on paper
fucked you into the back of my mind
and will wear denial until it becomes reality

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

---- signed off at 4:19:21 AM.

hurricane jane

freewrite to "hurricane jane" - the black kids

jane, i coulda sworn
yr windows were leaking
...almost...
battle scarred, war torn
feel like, unsure
pick my pocket and
tell me you want more

but please,
do it in tongues
(cause i don't wanna know)
do it in tons
(cause i can't get enough)
do it because

a sip of gin makes the tongue sliver when
the false clutches the truth close, quivering
splash some tonic, i'm on it
let's get drunk and be somebody

jane, i seent it
believe it
i feel it
i felt it and it felled me
so keep it
like a kelepto
collect it
edit and
correct it

it's friday night
what's the use
of attention or validation
when we're parched
and in need of restoration

let's get drunk and be somebody

"and i'm telling myself
it's gonna be worth it"

There is Love

There is Love (feat. iLL-Literacy)

foreplay.

you act to tug at heart strings
making yr audience embrace
every emotion effortlessly exuded
from yr being.
and they catch it.
like a sickness it envelopes them.
makes them weak
breaks them down
and yr thanked for it.

after the curtain call
when the curtain falls
you sigh tired
ready for change.

i swear
this role isn't meant to be familiar
but you play it so well
and well, my sincerest apologies.

mass appeal

something like a movie
there's something about a female
all walks of life walk to retail
button downs, hearts detailed on sleeves
screaming the "type love" Shihan speaks
or fuck love and fuck hard like superfreaks.
anything to get noticed, but
two-stepping to draw attention
only draws blank expressions
from the unique mystique in question

lesson learned: step yr game up

cause the kool aid is sweet
and i'm not denying sip sipping
but sipping like a sap don't aid my cool
it's cool that this dime has a dozen dime a dozens
but the correct change just threw up the deuce

just like a star

october:
sober from summer
over the slumber
awake and star gazing
painting portraits
of poets with the
aligning of stars

because each star seems to
speak a bit of truth

my first awkward slow dance

like a maverick i had the target on lock
goose had the ugly duckling
everything set, i walked over
reciting the lines i've been whispering
under my breath ever since i bought my ticket

"do you want to dance?"
i asked the floor beneath her feet

i hear a yes.
i look up with a smile
slightly more confident
longing since the first day of class
to extend my arms just slightly above her as..waist
the insides of my elbows tickled
from the cool gym air
as the scent of her hair
tingled those of my nose
and i know she was feeling
the cologne i borrowed from dad's cabinet.

and we danced circles
counterclockwise i think
as i admired the architecture of my gym
that was so beautiful it made my skin cry
hoping she didn't notice
the nervous wiping motion
against her back
i shot an awkward smile to distract her
and she looked down in horror
and i looked down in horror
cause the f-16 tomcat
launched an unauthorized missile attack

home-ill (1st draft)

i write this
because it's been awhile since i wrote a poem
and it's funny,
at how throwing me across the country
is showing me how much i miss poetry
-----------------------------------
stripped down to its purest form
(empty of political or pusssy agenda)
poetry purposefully locks you
into a love affair with language.
these words in everyday conversation
steady rock like rocksteady
produce something far beyond
nouns, verbs, and
hella hella adjectives

and it's tragic
how most of this daily poetry
goes unnoticed by it's producers
cause we all spit sick shit
"poets" just have the sense to write it down

baby mush

a firm grip

like offering a finger to a baby
they wrap their tiny curved fingers around yours
and struggle to let go.

and i guess it only makes sense
when you offer pieces of yrself
that i envelope them and struggle to let go

because you bring me back
to innocence and childlike wonder
two babies vulnerable, just struggling to figure out
how to survive in this world

and i have this feeling like yr struggling to let go
of the pieces of me that i wanted you to see
but you took in that grip cause what you wanted was
me

because i bring you back
to innocence and childlike wonder
two babies vulnerable. cursed with a case of
bad timing

co-signing that this feels right but not right now
but one of these days, this world will become ours

because we bring each other back
to innocence and childlike wonder
two babies invincible if their
tiny curved fingers never figure out how to let go.

for o.ate

i don't even know what to say
i listened to this song thinking of you today
there's something bout the thought of you
that causes me to follow through
and release my need to create

but yr the type to thieve vocabulary
from the verbose
and i find myself staring at the screen
shooting blanks

http://www.zshare.net/audio/kev_brown-albany-mp3.html

slaps

i swear everyone is thinking
i'm agreeing with them
but it's cause they just don't hear
the beats in my head

eromynawonktnodi

fresh feelings
of fiending to find flavors to define future self
race through the mind like hearts do
just as they slowly creep to beatbox of
another
noticing my development seems
arrested i feel
a change is
long overdue
each breath spells out a self
tradition laced in contradiction
hoping i can maintain some sense of balance to
experience the true nature of growth, but
i don't know which direction will
allow
me to find pieces of peace because so
often i'm
so confused with the pieces of me, on
quest to become more intelligent, i'm hella quick to go dumb
unique in my speech, but similar in my actions
earthbound being just wanting to get high
do i really just want to say fuck it
and allow nature to take its course or does
time
escalate too quickly for
me to not maintain some sense of control?
pressured by monotomy, my dichotomy
leaves me feeling
a little empty like nothing
nada
zilch
and quite frankly that unsettles me
,
as the lungs rise like the sun to
breathe in
respiration allows me to see how much i'm inspired by
existence
appreciation of god's design uplifts my arms
to the sky where dreams
hover just in within reach to teach
one about self
fresh feelings of
fiending to find flavors to define future self
relinquish control of my being
each time i breathe in
so i stop, pause, focus
halfway between earth
and the heavens
inhale to exhale
respire to inspire infinite growth

FIRST!

from wikipedia.com

By kissing the Blarney Stone at Blarney Castle, it is claimed that one can receive the "Gift of the Gab" (eloquence, or skill at flattery or persuasion). The legend has its roots in the response of the Queen of England, Queen Elizabeth I to Cormac Teige McCarthy's attempt to sweet talk his way out of a sticky situation, during negotiations of the takeover of the Blarney Castle by the occupying English forces. Cormac himself was the King of Munster, living in the Blarney Castle around the 14th century. The stone itself is rumoured to have been created by a witch way back in the middle ages.