Friday, February 27, 2009


Sitting on the couch with my hand inside my ziplock,

My phone sends word that my answer is coming,

A sweet voice greets my ear, gently speaking “I’m here”,

And asking if I could open the door,

So anxious, to show her the feeling that’s been feeling me up and down my body

I rose up slowly to the open the door that should remain closed,

But closed was my mind to the wisdom whispering “No”,

And as the knob twisted to allow an acquaintance most distant,

temptation’s scream “Yes” was all that I had listened too…

To her mouth to her neck going to the rated X,

I expressed loudly the noisy feeling that kept my ears ringing…

Heart pounding…Legs trembling…Lungs panting…

Underwear, panties, sweat, and sheets lay spread across the canvas,

Doomed to stay forever; the consequence of pleasure given by Temptation,

She kisses me slowly to seal my soul into the prison she keeps between her thighs,

As she uses her eyes to drown my flesh into the pool of her grey iris…

Skin dark chocolate…Body like a rocket…And a smile that could slide any boy into her back pocket…

Temptation was my first love and yes, I really mean it,

My heart was ensnared in her godless affairs and the pressure she bore on me when all she had to say was “I’m lonely”,

Never “I want you” or “You’re amazing” always that one simple phrase that would make my ego rise to 125 on a scale of 100,

Not knowing I was last on her list of caller IDs…

I was the only one thinking that our trapeze act was unique,

No safety net involved,

Yet still no crash,

Only meaning that there was no shred of evidence that us together ever existed…

Yet I poked my chest out and filled my head with helium because Temptation’s “I’m lonely” was my master calling,

Master bating myself to debating my wealth to such a diminishing level that when my reflection came from the mirror I felt like Dracula,

Invisible to the reality that it’s the death to my spirit that’s keeping my heart trapped…

All because I ignored the whisper of wisdom’s “No”,

And heeded to temptation’s scream of “Yes”,

Translated through Temptation’s sweet “I’m lonely”…

Friday, January 2, 2009

"Lean Thine Ear O Lord"

How come poeticism can't go over music?
I sit here frustrated with hip-hop beats boxing in my head,

It's not fair Lord that I can't spit Your word into a microphone within a padded booth,
Noise being blocked out by studio headphones.

Lord I don't want glamor or fame,
I even hid my name in a just in case fashion so they'd know You're not old fashioned,

So they know my poems phloem goes down to the roots of where it all started,
Where David first seeked Your heart,

Where Solomon climbed into a situation that he couldn't have imagined would have lasted eternity,
Yet the intimacy he spit watered a seed which sprouted into a biblical floetry,

Causing youth from futures unknown to kneel at Your feet with passions similar,
The only thing different now is my vernacular.

No more "thees" and "thous" or "bosoms" and "gardens",
but vocabulary with a lisp that forms even broader horizons.

It's our gift and curse of knowledge that accents our expression,
and it causes me to endure and expand further on this art of a poet's worship.

Even though the worship of the musician has grown so public now,
And honestly I desire to be apart of the powerful glow that comes in the form of blowing eardrums out...

See, a poet's worship gets drowned out by the drummed up guitar keys,
or the Pro-tools that blast out orchestrated auto-tuned beats,

And it's all because of the strings of an instrument or computer...
They cause my worshiping cords to strain and snap trying to match up with the glorification that they seem to give You.

See Lord, it's the poets heart that causes the vibrations that form this sound,
And yes I know You can see that but tell me how does that help everyone else out?,

You know I'd love to have international ears like The Breax, Theory and Lecrae,
not that I envy Your blessing to them it's only my desire that I feel will bring more demand on people to do things like Yahweh.

Well I desire that until You rebuke the storm after seeing my desire to give You praise,
At the same time convicting me with Paul's words reminding me that Your ways are not my ways.

Well Lord,
here I stand,

On the platform formulated for the worship given by the least heard,
but used in a mighty way simply because You made it apart of Your word,

And I will work overtime to ship this glorification to all ears,
because, thanks to You, a poet's worship is all I have to give.