Remember the time.
Remember the days.
Before the weave…..
After the straightening comb and fried dried perm, wig…….
When we were beautiful,
Oh, so black and beautiful.
When the character of black was natural beauty.
Full shaped, shaved afro, natural "angela davis beautiful"!
Afro
No chemicals, no perms, no madame Whoever
No purchased existential emulations of beauty from a foreign, shaved head
No synthetic being.
How can I feel beautiful with someone else’s hair?
No locks of beauty yet, yet, yet
Or fake braids down the back like you woke.
However you may have be born, you wore it, proudly.
But natural black beauty, real awoke.
Just our washed and sun-dried selves, picked out and afro sheen, clean pure razor-sharp black hair
Fists razed in defiance of oppression and beautiful.
“A natural,” they said
“Naturally, beautifully pure”
Now, WE ARE STILL BEAUTIFUL
Woke and beautiful!
A beauty that costs,
Nothing!
A beauty of the spirit
That has always and will always
BE NATURAL!
Categories:
emulations, black african american, change,
Form: Free verse
Spray your love in the masochistic mist,
shapely satisfying the illicit itch...
With handcuffs upon the wicked wrist,
narcotic nectars that will bewitch…
Salacious secretions that must assist,
appeasing appetites that shall enrich...
Salivating on parts hardly ever kissed,
exploring erotica within its niche…
Licentious desires amidst negligent night,
engulfing erections are craving...
Passionate pistils partake in their plight,
tender thoughts are misbehaving…
Bodies in motion divulge in delight,
as animalistic aphrodisiacs are raving...
Concupiscence convulsions do bite;
willing wanton wizards are waving…
Hold me tight as we twist and twitch,
upon luscious landscapes yearning...
Libidinousness lactations in their stitch,
beauteous breasts are burning…
Carnal covetousness stings their pitch,
for evocative emulations returning...
Leaving humble humanity in the ditch,
lacrimal lewdness upon learning.
Oct.15.2019
Itch, witch, glitch or twitch
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter
Background Music...Sade
"No Ordinary Love"
With Female Virtual Voice
N/A for contest
Categories:
emulations, beautiful, deep, desire,
Form: Rhyme
If languages were instruments,
English, the language of my own America,
Would be something like a piano.
Each word is clear and sharp-
When we sing, the note does not waver.
But I suppose it's more fair to say that
English is something like an electronic keyboard
With two hundred different modes because English
Has so many different versions,
Adaptations of other instruments,
Emulations, or imitations, however you want
To think of it; there is no accent that cannot
Be reconfigured to be
Played on keys in distinct shades
Of black or white.
Arabic though...
Arabic is more like a violin.
The sound of Arabic
Flies up and down the scale
In deliciously smooth legato,
Stopping to linger on vibrato;
Poignant
Categories:
emulations, arabic, international, language, music,
Form: Free verse
When I gazed at the sky,
Was devoid of celestial bliss to the eye,
Pitch dark, as dark as a black lie.
Obscured 'above the clouds' were,
Moon of my emulations and stars of materialism,
Rising upto infinite expanse and unlimited realm.
Ambitions coursed like blood through me,
Material desires unending like treadmill,
Unseable above murky dark clouds of philistinism.
Enthusiasm lost to adversities and fortune,
For lack of determination altered my traverse,
Time tricked me down like a running grave,
Rainbow that receeded as I advanced.
As the wind blew and the doors rattled,
Saturated clouds burst with the torrential rain,
Sweeping impatience and increased appetite
Cleared sky,of ambitions as hollow as soul of an echo.
Iniquity flees, and I find
my verves as new as the glistening silk of moon,
Determination as hard as a rock,
Metamorphosed into a millionaire's mistress.
And tireless I fly, conforming to all my aspirations,
Culminating at the crest, desires hurried like clouds,
And diligent I stand in complacency,
Where serenity is the denouement.
Written June 19th, 2013
Awarded 4th place win
Categories:
emulations, desire,
Form: Prose Poetry
Celestial wisdom; the mother of a precious starving infant, knows no shame!?
Transcending; as the father of an innocent war torn child, knows only pain....
Watching this world from afar these eyes, while it turns atop the bed of sorrows
Burning and yearning yet never learning; as tears keep falling, from broken hearts ~
You frankensteins; you hypocrites; you beast of burdens; you cannibals; you zombies
Lost and running around in circles while poisoning, tormenting and killing one another?!
Gnashing emulations; abominations, fulfilling the prophecies of its own saddened tales....
************************************************************************
....“Terrestrial Journals” *
Categories:
emulations, hope, life, love,
Form: I do not know?