Young G’s sporting tattooed gunz, on rolling black streets,fishing without water, amphibians of the dark ghettos,with names like Ricochet Rob, because he once dreamt of shooting straight.Mumbles, who’s mom was a midnight walker. He was not named for that, butbecause he was hit in the head to much, as a tike and stays drunk, on liquid crack.Then there is Bboss, just because he says so and their ship goes wayback. Riding in circles, on the wavy vinyl streets.They roll up on their port, this side of an intersection, they cannot pass, for the other side its just to deepThey hop out of the grey primered lowrider and begin clubbing, off the hip.Clubing their wares, slingin caps, dumping on anything, that is hauling ass.The stray paint hits, an innocent ankle-biter, across the sea.The truth is black lives matter, unless you are a pirate, with a carbineand are colored blinded, by dead presidents.
4/30/2017
Categories:
wayback, abuse, america, black african
Form: Free verse
Desolate thoughts
and counting crows
Specs of light
spread across
Across the bridge so far
The Darkened moonlit sky
Red white and blue
Neon lights
Sparkle for the few
Left hanging out
In Spanish Harlem
That very night
Looking through
The windows of lost
souls
I cry laugh and rejoice
Seen what you didn't
See in me
And what I couldn't see
In myself
Images of yesterday
Entombed in our hearts
Minds seeking outlets
Through an opening
That wasn't there
Seeing Mirror images
Of myself the fellas
The girls what a world
What a time
What a life
We jitterbuged
Around the concrete jungle
The streets showing off
Our colors galore
Our names of Lore
Shown on those white walls
Girls For show
Carmen Linda Brendalee too
The other side
Chino Tony and jap
Say hey we can't forget
Bozo the base
The Lords we were
We sang from
Stoop to stoop
Subway to rooftop
Harmonizing to the sun
Singing into the darkness
On the stage we call life
Wayback when
Sharing windows
Of yesteryear
Friends of yesterday
Mirror images
Shadows of...
Oneself
Categories:
wayback, dedication, friendship, life,
Form: Dramatic Verse
Let us sit besides one another on a deserted bench.
A longing of feelings we still need to quench.
There's no need to open your mouth,
words are not a must.
With one nibble behind your ear,
my lips regain your trust.
With a single wink of the eye,
and the ecstasy of a gaze.
That's enough to draw me closer,
That's enough to keep you in a daze.
There's no need to write letters,
no use in leaving short memo's.
With one gentle touch,
We'll let the talking up to our fingers.
In this oasis of lust,
there are no numbers to dial,
no need to leave a message,
With one kiss,
two bodies learn to speak the same language.
As far back as I can recall,
Wayback and ever since.
Nothing has to be said.
What a blessing it is,
communicating our love in a silent presence.
Categories:
wayback, love, longing,
Form: I do not know?