Category Archives: Poetic Justice

Mood Music

As the sands of time glide by, the rhythm of your body flows against the sounds of love. The strings of your heart play in my mind as we seamlessly intertwine. Together we form the most beautiful symphony. A harmony that elicits a never ending melody.

Every sting is plucked; every heartbeat is felt in touch.   Pulsating bass that goes thru us as we continue to enjoy OUR music. I am high as watch the orchestrated precision of our love musical. Watching. Wanting, and listening for more. 

I always want an encore, but the silent screams of silence implore I continue on. 

Maybe a different song?

Every song I feel never feels the same, but you leave me spellbound.

Wait, I forgot my name?


So High

After the emotional high of that summer feeling, my heart goes into emotional rehab. The season of my affection has changed but the humidity of summer leaves my heart in vain.

Fields of subliminal bliss overcome my heart. The weather goes from intense feelings to the paltry depths of a  cold, cold world.

As I awake from the world a distant you appears. I realize that your love has not escaped me. I am taken aback to peel the petals of your beauty. The warmness of your color takes me away from any season of  numb feeling.

You are my private island. Secluded from everything other than trust. When the world is cold, I feel the cool sensation of your breath on my body. The thought of our LOVE always leaves me with that spring summer feeling that tingles throughout my body.

Like a clock with no hands I can put my life on pause and rewind to those beautiful moments that stopped time. I am alive knowing I can touch your love.

Your fragrance leaving my pores open. You take me away every time I think of your warm vessel, every inch of your body is known by my touch, and that leads me to my own emotional attainment. It’s the love of you, not lust.


I stand over you to cast a shadow on the doubt that is under hands. We hold inside the understanding that came before us. Now I overstand the commands and virtuous plans they had for woman and man.

They instituted a doctrine of ideals, and morals we were to follow. Problem is we evolved into tomorrow without looking back into today.

I understand because I overstand on the principles of their life. I looked over their mistakes, moved past the yesterday’s that now shape life. No longer is understanding a lexicography of words used as a maze to amaze me about the old days.

Today is a new day.

I overstand when I speak to you because I deciphered the fantasy that was amassed in your reality. I saw the words you could not see.

When you spoke to me I heard the double entendre you graced inside me. You allowed me to think in more than one dimension. I seek words that were previously hidden within me. You helped me find the character of who I need be.

Flashlight in the Daytime

I ignore the heartache of this empty space. I’m looking up to get out of here.

Can you help me find my way? I wanted to help the world, so I carved a space. Too bad I fell into a desolate facade.

A helpless mindstate.

No GPS, no signal, I’m on my roam.

I left my mental capacity chasing space, and right before me was the best way to escape.

I wanted to get away from feelings of unrest, but unless I find a way, my love will never be the same. I wish I didn’t feel this way. I stooped to a new low to help, yet I feel insane. Am I going mad trying to explain what remains?

I look towards the heavens seeking mental rain. A brainstorm of negativity flooded my brain. I’m chasing the dream of helping everyone. I’m drinking the elixir of my own tears.

A mental strain.

Pillow Talk

 In an effort of unique proportions I have captivated your mind. The thoughts that grace your lips humble me. As I slowly caress them against my mind, your soul saw through my ways and allowed me to undress your thoughts of making LOVE.

You let me view a secluded dream.

I was aggressive in my attempt to win over your body, but I captured a piece of your heart.

I led you down the road of unknowing bliss. Blindfolded you followed me into a state of mind that left you brainwashed. What I put out on the table was an offer you would not and could not refuse! I made the goose bumps on your body come to life.

I am the reason your legs shake till you fall a sleep. You wonder why your mind wonders when we are apart. Don’t you understand we have molded each others mind into one cohesive unit of  love!

I know exactly how to start the flows of your body that kick-start an emotional rush that no other man can give. Nobody else could give you that feeling of erotic emotions! You want me to take over.

The helplessness!

The feeling of being lost but knowing you were safe.

That’s when LOVE comes back into play!

Of course I have taken you on a conquest of our sensual tensions. Coming together to climaxing explosions! The passion. The feelings of my fingers running across your spine, and then around your waist. You can feel every inch of imagination as I explore your uncharted mental territory.

Where only I would go when it’s cold, but alas that sensation and feeling is over. When I come too, I am left to a surreal state of relaxation.

My LOVE prose!

Where we come together with smiles of affection, and warmth in our hearts as we cuddle, and fall into a deep sleep of LOVE.

Lie In Bed

Drunk and powerless my past creeps up like shots straight to the heart. My lies in bed shutoff the staggering pain of insecurities.  An unfaithful past.

Like rotten milk it still wants to come up, stank, painful, and unmatched…

Hip-Hop Lied

For those who say hip-hop is alive are lying to its loyal fans. Industry insiders cry foul out albums sales, and parade around the advance money to show off a fallible lifestyle.

I beg to differ!

In the landscape of today’s music artist are now as to do a song and dance to have others hand in the cookie jar of their brand. Can we market our look? Can they sell sex? Can a 360 deal bring the label success?

No longer is music about the art. Labels want people who can create a quick buzz. Hum a tune. Have YouTube success. The overnight sensation that dies overnight.

Hip-hop is now the Uncle Tom of music that no longer has a visible genre to lay claim to. They have pimped the content of an artist to sell some headphones. ” The Machine” markets society’s idea of whats in style and not what is timeless.

Artist pimp the newest product of the day. Market with a team of people who barely know their real name. Often you can insert the JET Beauty of the Week that was discovered last week to market hip-hop.

It’s really a painful reality when die-hard fans of music cannot appreciate what hop-hop has become. The radio has become the airwaves of spins that most won’t play at all. The same songs on each radio station. The same top 8, the infamous exclusive that I can hear on any station. We don’t need innovation, we need hip-hop to convey life, not fantasy.

Can we get an artist to do a freestyle, and not recite the rhymes of a studio altered song? Can you even do a live show? Today artist cannot connect with their fan base because they are disconnected from the garbage they pass off as music.

Go unplugged!

Do shows at smaller venues. No wait, that doesn’t sell! Nevermind!

Do you even know there are musicians in revive the live that are bringing the color back into hip-hop. They are bringing real sound back to life.

People need to know the roots of hip-hop and be taught the history of the art. We can get hip-hop back if we take the capitalist bureaucrats out of the music and leave the numbers to the boardroom. Take a look at Outkast. Emulate a young Nas to see how something from scratch can bring sparks to flames.

To the underground artist being underground means that you don’t sell so you have to take it upon yourself to sell. Artist in the game don’t know about hard work. Grinding work! You have so many people on team built to make their money, while you spend away today.

It seems the industry have people, who need people, who have other people to confirm their artist is the next best thing.


The secret garden of your passion is hidden from me. I can see the zeal you have for life as you live out your purpose instinctively.

I value your drive.

I water your life by the eyes of meticulous gardening.

I want to see you grow.

I feed you the fertilizer that maximizes the potential of your dreams. I wont kill you with pesticides.

In my mind I realize you are a growing prize with the potential to save lives. Your mind is a beautiful place that is hidden from the real world.

I need you to show the growth of your life. It hasn’t been sunshine, yet the rain has helped you grow into a beautiful life.

Tagged , ,

Tired of Me?

I write because I think too much.

Bored with questions.

I want answers.

I gave up on my ambitions when I lied to my dreams.

I’m too hard!

Lying to you. Lying to the my character.

The reality of my thoughts set the tone for what would not be.

I walked through the lives of other people. A mirage of a deferred dreams!

I turned up their volume while I muted me. I could only hear what they had to say about me.

I was too busy obsessing over how emotions dealt with love, life, and misery.

I tried to yell cut, but I was intrigued by the need to pay attention to their fallacies.

Have I lost me? Has my displeasure evoked an emotional rollercoaster with no end in sight?

I was deeply entrenched in heartache. Todd lost the roadmap to me.

Can I use GPS (God’s Positioning System) to reach me? Be who God envisioned in me?

I’m sorry. I know I love you, yet are you tired of me?

Black Entertainment?

I’m tired of listening to the lies that are inside the idiot box to keep me a stray.

BET your showing me while I’m looking at you. The preview of repugnant garbage that’s uncut. Your programming is see through. 

That’s nice you have a new lineup of shows. A line up at a strip club has new acts to keep the old ones in tact. 

Your programming is transparent, but its more of a parent company like Viacom that pulls the stings. Now we are more n’sync with MTV.
Oh I didn’t forget about your little brother VH1 that exploits our women with short dresses, and black men I can’t look up to because their hair is as long as Brett Michael’s.

A lot of people have been real nice with the words they use. Now I fully refuse the amusement by the muse you choose to market. This community is worth more than the commercialism you capitalize on TV.

How dare you think you can play me on your shows with that tomfoolery you put on prime-time TV. The hurt and pain I express is seen so far that most African American’s can’t look at you.

You have become so mainstream you polluted the basic cable waters that supply us with even the most basic information. BET is the CNN of tragedy. BET display’s videos of nonsense, and a senseless mockery of what real journalism is!

Entertainment isn’t all you are looked at to do. I know black people aren’t asking to much of BET. Unlike Charles Barkley “I am not a role model!” cannot be your decree.

I finally caught on to what you do. The condition is now terminal and no single act can save you. When I get done with your channel you should be put on blast, not in a tirade but like a breath of fresh air. 

Until then the parents in that board room are guilty to.  They can’t claim you know what we want to watch when the quality you promote is CO2.

Odorless, painless, you have put us to sleep for years, in fear that we would one day wake up.

You locked us in a box of stereotypes. The radio is blasting, car in gear, rear-view camera in view. We are on candid camera, Viacom is pimping you too!

People always say well at least you have BET stop your complaining. Wish on that black star power that we had BET too.

Viacom has that and MTV and VH1 too…