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James Lewis Poem
Facedown on the carpet I just knew that I would die,
the red obscures my vision as the blood dripped in
my eye,
I never saw it coming, tell me, how could I have
slipped? But let me back it up a bit and tell you bout
my trip.
My mother was the type who gave me food but fed
me lies, the woman gave me life October 5th of '85,
while growing up I always knew that something was
amiss, my 16th birthday's when I found out true lies
do exist.
October 2K1 my goodness, it was such a time, I
lived my life the 'seat of pants' way, out there runnin
wild,
my b-day gift from Uncle Sal which I was blown
away, a nickel plated 22 he called a 'throw away'.
Mom Dukes was straight addicted to a lithany of
drugs, my father died absorbing quite a lithany of
slugs,
I thirsted for the streets and no amount of love could
quench, to now possess a firearm, it all now
seemed a cinch.
I had some people over to the crib to celebrate, my
little cuzzo Pop and plus my homies Rell and Nate,
we had the PS2 because that Madden game was
heat, you know how things occur sometimes when
you expect it least?
It seems that day my mother really snorted up some
blow, she had assorted stains of snow which
showed around her nose,
when Moms got high the sky could fall and she just
wouldn't know, she also had a case of real loose
lips because of coke.
Now everyone was chillin, plenty happy times for all,
then Moms approached my Uncle Sal, the rising of
my fall,
she then just spoke out loud enough for everyone to
hear, 'Why don't you claim your son right now while
everyone is here? !
The music stopped and pinheads dropped I'm
thinkin who the F? Now cheery Sal with teary smile
embraced me to his chest,
'I'm sorry it was done this way but yes there's
sumthin true, I have 2 sons see Pop is 1, the other 1
is you'
I fainted, dropped my brew and don't know what I'm
gonna do.......
To Be Continued......
Copyright © James Lewis | Year Posted 2011
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James Lewis Poem
Things are all slow motion like I'm Neo in the grid,
just layin here and thinkin back to when I was a kid,
with plasma gushin out my lid, my lashes flutter
tight, my 16th birthday 2K1 seems like the other
night.
My Uncle Sal, a won'drous pal, my father's brother
sure, was something like a Dad since mine was
killed when I was 4,
the hurt my mother dropped was unlike anything
before, I didn't want to listen but I had to find out
more.
It seems like Moms and Sal were more than pals
when Pops was gone, without no contraception,
Pops was sterile early on,
now 6 or 7 months of this I'm nothing short of
shocked, cause Mom Dukes came up pregnant so
she had to go tell Pops.
He died when I was young but it's just better still to
say, that he was murdered; splurtered goin 'cross
McCarter 'Way,
they never caught who did it, only clue, the car they
drove, an '89 Ford Taurus painted black and sittin
low.
My mom embraced the streets, but me I then
embraced the heat, I ran with shady peeps I knew
who played the game for keeps,
my Uncle and my Cousin Pop spread out to other
blocks, with lawyers, cops and judges, had the city
smothered; locked.
My specialty especially was dishin out that weight, I'd
ride around with Nate dispensing hate and bakin
cake,
we had our share to make and yet we always fought
for more, we took the town like Marlo in The Wire's
Baltimore.
My muscle Nate and I we held it down like Snoop
and Chris, you give it or get got, there wasn't time for
stupidness,
we revelled in the power dealing dope and coke
provides, until that faithful day when buried secrets
came to light.
This young'n by the name of Rich he banged and
slang them bricks, for us he ran a corner off of
Haynes Street in Da Bricks,
now homie was an alright sort just always late with
it, til Uncle Sal got sick of it and told us 'hang that
snitch! '
We scooped him up from Union out on East Route
22, one Friday night the time was right to do just
what we do,
he had some chickens cluckin at the Garden State
Motel, he knew why we were there and said 'Let's
play some show and tell.'
We rode him to this storage spot, no way that he
could run, with Nate up on the gun there'd be 2 shots
and it'd be done,
that's when Rich opened up a unit, sittin way in back,
a Taurus Ford that sat real low, oh yeah, and painted
black
it can't be that......
To Be Concluded
Copyright © James Lewis | Year Posted 2011
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James Lewis Poem
The month of February, ever since I can recall, is
known by most to celebrate Black History and all,
but every single year I always ponder, not to front,
just why our peoples' histories possess the shortest
month.
See if I ruled a perfect world I also shall declare, that
BHM, Black History Month extends to half the year,
with 1 month on and 1 month off I think that would be
fair, I'd also lock my hair inside a perfect world I
swear.
Now since I'd be the ruler making up new laws and
such, commit a crime against a child? I'd sew their
eyeballs shut,
and throw them in a tranny prison, worth the while or
what, with dudes I pray who'd make a birth canal
from out their butt.
I'd rule the world with iron fist my justice swift and
fair, when someone doesn't care someone will lift
them in the air
by ev'ry folicle of hair cause Lewisville is on a roll, in
fact forget the prisons dump these serpents in a
hole.
Stupidity not tolerated by a boy or girl, that's just the
way I'd do it if it were a perfect world,
and all drugs would be legal ev'ryday I'd bet that
quick, in Lewisville we'd grip a non-existent deficit.
There wouldn't be a homeless person anywhere in
sight, it'd be so safe to go and travel anywhere at
night,
cause crime also's not tolerated in or out of place,
forget the diggin ditches shoot these fools to outer
space.
I'd reach the people ev'ryday I'm sure you would
relate, there'd be no chance of rape just food and
drink with ev'ry plate,
my nation would be touted on this planet as a great,
no chicken wings and fries we'd dine on rice pilaf
and steak.
A young Barack Obama running things with my
Michelle, for criminals of Lewisville a fate designed
in H31l,
or worse if I prevailed it's just a thought so let it twirl,
around your head it'd happen, living in my perfect
world.
Copyright © James Lewis | Year Posted 2011
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James Lewis Poem
The original version of this piece is too long for me
to post in its entirety, so it had to be sectioned off. Of
all that I've written, I am most proud of this work due
to its historical accuracy. I hope you enjoy it as well. It
was an honor to write this.
Lying in this shallow ditch I hear as they arrive, the
miracle of God is all that's keeping me alive,
and it is that belief in God to which each day I strive,
surprised at this much faith? Just simply gaze into
my life.
Was born in 1800, month October 2nd day, and knee
high to a hopper when my daddy ran away,
before you climb your soapbox and begin to think
that way, remember these are times when all the
black folk here are slaves.
Imagine being sold like stock, to work when cold or
hot, the overseers beatin people if they're old or not,
do not defy the owner, best believe you will be sick,
of getting 10 to 20 lashes from the master's whip.
My last name wasn't given at my birth and that's a
fact, my given name's Nathaniel but they choose to
call me Nat,
the surname of my owner Samuel is what I claim,
you put it all together yes, Nat Turner is my name.
I think about Old Bridget, that's my grandmother you
know, they snatched her out of Ghana, brought her
here to freezing cold,
she ran the Coromantee who were known for slave
revolts, she watched the seeds get planted in me
grow and take a hold.
I thought myself the lucky one for I could read and
write, it brought me to The Bible and I learned to
read it right,
then spent my childhood years admidst the Spirit up
above, it fit my needy soul just like a mitten or a glove.
I ran away at first when I was only 22, I should've
stayed away because I really wanted to,
but 1 month later, picture this it's me a black man
free, a vision told me that I should go back and that
was key.
The visions I receive I know are messages from
God, Old Bridget had religion shining deep within my
heart,
I will inform the brethren and won't stop until they're
saved, The Prophet is the name that I was called by
fellow slaves.
As 6 years pass of this I know it never is too late, the
hands of the Almighty have me primed for
something great,
I carry heavy shoulders for a man of 28, until I
worked the master's field one faithful day in May........
To Be Continued
Copyright © James Lewis | Year Posted 2011
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James Lewis Poem
Reason number 1, your beauty hits me like a punch,
I'm leaned against the ropes and passed out drunk,
but that's whasup,
the Reasons 2-10, I just can't wait to meet again, I'll
share my rigormorted meat again let's skeet and sin.
But Numero Once' goes like this, your lips and toes
I'll kiss, subtract the 1 lip that's blackjack now add 10
for fingertips,
1 set of lips makes 32, I won't be hurting you, just
stating all the reasons, being mad assertive too.
We're battin up to 33 you're fly like birdies be, I love
the way you work it pleasurably hurting me,
it's not like I'm complaining cause I so deserve it
see, a little puff'a ganja urgently I'll murder thee.
I'm sticking to the script now onto Reason 34, my
love for you so deep I'll eat from off a dirty floor,
the rhythm that I'm givin is the kind you're thirsty for,
I'll splash my lemonade inside your mouth you dirty
wh0*e (just playin) : -)
Reason 35 extends to Reason 52, I can't do life
without you baby, what's a kid to do?
There's Reason 53, aggressively you stick with me,
although I have my moments like them Sex In City
Bs.
For 54 I'll kick in doors defend you til the death, I'm
spittin off that 50-Cal til emptiness is left,
inside the clip no time to slip, these cats'll git me
live, til someone has to die for you, that's Reason 55.
Now 56 is nifty cause we read and share it all, we
talk about this system and just where it's gonna fall,
5-7 plus 11 equals Reason 68, your oral skills
phenomenal but that's no big debate.
We're fine'lly here at last hurray it's Reason 69, we
both are very freaky but in time it won't define,
the measure of our love but with that up and down
it's fine, the reasons that I love you count em yes,
there's 69.
Copyright © James Lewis | Year Posted 2011
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James Lewis Poem
Call me the magician pulling rabbits out my hat, that
13th Friday Jason Voorhees stabbin at your cat,
with hocus strokus powers as I use my magic wand,
while upbeat melodies are sprinkled to a sadder
song.
Got oral capabilities to make you scream for God,
just wrap your legs around my love of flesh and
made as hard,
as concrete in the city jungle, let me splash and rain,
with multiplistic pleasures only you will ascertain.
The body of a goddess hottest motions we'll divide,
with feelings warmer than the hottest ocean when
inside,
your core of molten lava java with a dropp of milk,
your nectar sweet as sugar woman, not a dropp I'd
spill.
We're swimming in the heavens you and I collide as
one, the brownest colors sparkle when your eyes
align the sun,
for I'm your Mr. Wizard but our show aint for TV, it's
not for K-I-Ds the grown and onlyest is we.
I know that you are captivated by my strokus spell,
your chances of escape are like a snowball's
chance in h31l,
your cool demeanor melts so fast into a running
stream, my tongue will lap your essence up, a vivid
stunning dream.
The ghetto Harry Potter but I will not make a flick,
unless we're filming cunnilingus, lemme take a lick,
then afterwhich I'll stamp you like an envelope in jail,
the magic spells I cast will do much more than open
mail.
In fact extinguish all the lights, upon your walls I'll
write, graffiti in Tahiti, we will bounce and ball all
night,
because I'm a magician known for tricks and slight
of hand, I don't invest illusion, yes I am the rightest
man.
Before I end this baby I will get down on my knee,
and pledge undying love to you for all the years I
breathe,
it's more than just the magic of the stroke that drives
you wild, don't ask me how I do it, it's the hokus
strokus style.
Copyright © James Lewis | Year Posted 2011
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James Lewis Poem
I heard a loud noise in the heavens, God what can it
be? The air around me shimmered then a Spirit
came to me,
I couldn't move a muscle due to hard work in the
heat, the Spirit then began to speak direct and
indiscreet.
'Nathaniel listen closely for these words are very
true, you're looking for a purpose? Well the Serpent's
very loose,
you know that Jesus lay the yolk he bore for sins of
men, you must engage the Serpent for the time's
approaching when,
the 1st will be the last my son and last will come in
1st, the knowledge you've acquired will most surely
quench your thirst,
this great work is your task from God oh ye of flesh
and bone, so go and slay your enemies with
weapons all their own.'
It took communication to devise those early plans, I
had my 4 most trusted with me, Henry, Hark and
Sam,
and Nelson too providing bits of info that I sought,
these plans will take us weeks oh yes but forth they
shall be brought.
I saw the sun eclipsing as a sign attack the land, it
looks as though it's being covered by a black man's
hand,
the bluish-green eclipse of August 1831, the final
sign envisioning the slaughterfest to come.....
To Be Concluded
Copyright © James Lewis | Year Posted 2011
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James Lewis Poem
Put your toe inside my mouth, I wanna feel you
squirm, there're lessons to be taught tonight, I feel
you're gonna learn,
to let yourself be serviced in the many ways that
come, I love bare feet but time to switch, go 'head,
put on them pumps.
They're pointy toed and shiny with at least a 6 inch
heel, your muscle calves are flexing like Mad Cobra
on the real,
I think it's time for sex when shoes point up toward
the ceil, that Jimmy Choo Manolo Blahnik action
seals the deal.
You may think I'm a freak and you can tell from how I
speak, those pumps can rub my cheek for ocho dias
ev'ry week,
that leaves an extra day to flip off work for extra play,
you work them sexy thangs as if you twirk for extra
pay.
I failed to mention that you're nude with shoes and
that's the move, you got me thinkin baseball like I
wanna smack a few,
from out the park, the rout starts with your Peggy
Bundy walk, the stuff to have a buck of bud
combusting after dark.
See I can be your bodyguard, we'll play like long lost
pals, that 80s song goes best with Bundy, you can
call me Al,
I'd jack these sons like Janet if I say let's wait awhile,
them pumps worn with a short tight skirt? Now that's
the way to style.
Those shoes embrace your feet like Twista's
rhymes embrace a beat, I hear folks talk that bull but
are afraid to face the heat,
my catalouge competes without a Facebook post or
Tweet, your feet in them stilettos baby, muy dulce;
sweet.
Your weight is meaning nathan, lookin fine from
head to toe, these Lisa Lisa maricóns prefer thin
chicks to blow,
all on the magic johnson which to me aint meanin
jack, I'm talkin zapatos de negro, crotchless cream
and black,
dress nightie set, exciting yes, it all starts with the
shoes, the wrapping of your package leaves
exquisite parts to view,
a patient man I am my darlin, come and dance with
me, I'll end this as we move to music, you dressed
scantilly.
Copyright © James Lewis | Year Posted 2011
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James Lewis Poem
Technology's necessity, without it we would die, it's
fascinating really how computers run our lives,
the tapping of the keyboard and the clicking of the
mouse, it's gotten so that folks don't even have to
leave the house.
The world's right at our fingertips and there's no way
around, the fact that all you need is just a debit card
account,
to pay for what you wish, your items may get freely
shipped, you may get really gipped but I aint really
sayin spit,
I'll change it up a bit, now ev'rybody lose your mind, I
don't mean goin crazy just expand it and refine,
imagine you're agoraphobic, scared to go outside,
computers then present a slight resemblance of a
life.
The script rotates with ease I flip it 45 degrees, you
got the shady ones out there that steal identities,
bring fam'lies to their knees, absconding quick with
50 Gs, a scam that's ran leaves both the check and
save stash hittin E.
They're also in the mobile phones, there're no more
phones at home, no cordless in the kitchen only
touch screen mobile tones,
that come with email, news and weather packaged
up in foam, remember when we knew our peoples'
numbers from the dome?
I stand up self admittedly absorbed in techno-lust,
it's fright'ning if you ponder, it could all end with a
touch,
of just a button, maybe 2, a maze of 82, Verizon's the
horizon so we're really praising who?
The media in print is by the wayside, take a look,
we'll move a cursor but won't flip the pages in a book,
on that aspect I'm old school up unitl I d-i-e, you'll
always find a paper or a hardback right by me.
The future's in the hands of those who strive to make
it more, than being slaves to microchips like
Terminator 4,
there will be no salvation when the Ipads mess us
up, Steve Jobs is worshipped more than God,
beware of techno-lust.
Copyright © James Lewis | Year Posted 2011
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James Lewis Poem
We started going house to house and freeing all the
slaves, then killing all the white folks left with
hatchets, knives and chains,
we only used blunt objects to conceal our wave of
smoke, I'll surely be the father to the mom of all
revolts.
I speak of 'we' because by now we numbered 7-0,
and had the whiteness falling to the ground like
heaven's snow,
we went through 55 caucasians and their pretty
wives, we also killed the kids but there were some
who didn't die.
The poor white families were spared, we left them
all intact, they didn't think no better of themselves
than they did blacks,
the point of this to whites was our reality in chains,
reality depicting the brutality of slaves.
We only got 2 days before revolting was
suppressed, by white mobs and militias causing 56
black deaths,
along with others killed and beaten numbered many
more, I think it was 200 but I really can't be sure.
I ran eluding capture for another couple months, the
white folks swore that I would pay for all these
sick'ning stunts,
until the day October twenty 1831, they found me in
this ditch I'm hiding in, I guess I'm done.
They tried me and they found me guilty, sentenced
me to death, this happened on November 5th, there
wasn't much time left,
was hung on the 11th and for days that's how I
stayed, until they cut my head off and my body
chopped and flayed.
I look around at blacks folks in this modern day and
age, and there may be some freedom but y'all still
are truly slaves,
for me though death is nothing seeing those get
killed for drugs, remember me Nat Turner for the
man I really was.
Copyright © James Lewis | Year Posted 2011
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