Gay Poetry

01-21-12

2012-01-21T11:01:00.001-08:00

He was tasting
my balls to see
the fit of them both
in his mouth
he was stretching his hole
as I mounted him on the coach
fucking is an art
worthy of learning
put this leg here
put that one there
swallow the sucking air
slip in retreat
then again
find the rhythm
that causes sweat
exam the head
while giving it
explore ever corner of the bed
I have tasted pricks
as tiny as a child's finger
I have found the juice
of the fountain of youth
in grown men
and called it cum
the taste of cum
on my tongue
on my cheeks
riding down between
my legs
learn the business end
of lust
smoke the stiff warm pipe
never rubber stamp
your sex
or hide it under night
contemplate
your approach
get drunk on the
the musk under his arms
be healthy and harmless
and enjoy your sexual lust
chase him around the rooms
to catch your reward
work for it
and it will come.
-

I jotted down his first name
and added my last to his
he is foxy and naughty
and sweet of warm breath
and make our bed
squeaky with song
when he mounts me
his love never attack
never pervert
as he drag me willingly
through the tangle of the sheets
our love excommunicate
the hatred of the church
he sw3at my ass
and sex delightfully
stings and I buried
my face deep within
the region of heat
that he keep between his legs
he makes clever love
as warm as stones in the sun
slowly releasing it when
the day is done
I landed within him
My weight on his skinny chest
his body is a swamp
complex in its sex
full of life and moist lust
that will birth me no sons
I explore his manhole
with my tongue
I leave my spit
on the hairs of his arm
and he birth little sounds
pants of half breath
when I swallow the seeds
that contain all of who
he have become.

12-30-2011

2011-12-30T13:37:00.001-08:00

12-30-2011

America is not legal
its legacy is tinted
tainted with her living lies
she sucks the rimes
out of her rhythm
all questions she decline
America is manless
except for the blacks
who are all fine
America is a painted mirror
her true self she refuse to see
or she would be ashamed
of the way that she
treat dark you and dark me.
-

Honor thy father
bullshit!
Mine was a bigamist
-

Somewhere
over my man's ass
I get high
somewhere
dicks are waving
o why can't I
-

A nude black man
exhausts me
just to see
the mounds
of his ass
brings me peace
his forest of hair
between my teeth
I tongue his hole
ever dark and sweet
see
a nude black man
exhausts me
then we sleep.
-

Waiting, waiting
for a cool drink of you
man seeking God
to screw and be screwed.
-

All the bitches
I know are all men
they call themselves so
bitch this, bitch that
it's all that I can do
as not to have a
bitch attack.
-

Luxurious complexions
negro to black to
high yellow and dirty red
men with their musk
driving me madly wild
men stealing my love
with a smile.
-

12-23-2011

2011-12-23T09:54:00.001-08:00

Speak your worst
it will not stop
my manly loving
all said I still
give head as
one well bred
I hark and herald
and nail your
accusations to
your man made cross
and glorious cum
drips from my tongue.
-

The prick can be used
as a sword, as a club
within my duel holes
but my lover
is so bold
as to use his
with tenderness.
-

it is better said
if I give head
that the young boy
coming into his new manhood
knows that he is
not along in what
stirs his lorn.
-

Listen and hear
me clear
he poked his dick
into my ear
he spread his legs
and arched his back
and I slipped in
I did not attack
gentle is my loving
gentle is my hump
gentle my rhythm
of the glorious fuck.
-

I suck deep
I run my tongue
I labor my breath
when I come.
-

Men in love
will not deceive
the God made us
the man to sexual
please, we the ones
who tongue the head
we tangled in the sheets
we who moan
with delight
we hide not
in the night.
-

Unjust are
their calls
that Settians
should fall
to a hell
man made
no God can tell
that the love It made
is a sin
in the Christian way
Jesus loved all
and never condemned
such hateful and
mean spirited things
are the fashions of men
who wish to control
what masculinity means
as if it can be owned
but we are strong
as our sexuality is bold
we men who love as God
gave us to do
we who love
and fuck and screw
we are much more
then the sexual act
but hateful men
still attack
my wounds were healed
by fighting back
with the love of God
at my back.
-

God, why
do men lie
in your holy name
is it because
as corporations
men can go insane?
God, why
the Christian lie
that we sin
against nature
that made us
to do as we do?
We men born
have human history
on our side
it will be proven
by our science
that nature over rules
nurture
that time will not lie
as men are apt to do
that we are born
to it as true
as each new year
still we are born
sisters and brothers
stand strong
loving your true love
will not do you wrong.
-

Disdain me
if you will
and you will
I know
I still will be
no victim of your
hatred, no ennui
and will not pity myself
because you are against me
your insults and ill
use of our God
deprive only you
from getting into heaven
but pass a law
and you will fall
and you will
see true
that my words
without a pause
will nail the
government to
it's tin cross
I am a fighter
born to it by
the color of my skin
in America
I will not let
your barbarism stand
you who corrupt
the true sexual
nature of man
like me who
love them dearly
the way you corrupt
religion gets
all my disgust
I shall fight
with a polished tongue
hear my words
their meaning clear
you are fore warned
so let it began
know this that
in the end
God will make
you the victim
of your own disdain.
-

O what amorous lips

2011-12-22T14:17:00.001-08:00

O what amorous lips
are these
dark as a storms
over the sea?
Swim in me
and ride me well
your body locked
around all my cares
this man in dress
this lip I seek
such taste of
sweet reprise
come close, come dear
I will fulfill your needs
to sex me with sex
with rolled up sleeves.

Forms everywhere

2011-12-22T12:50:00.001-08:00

Forms everywhere
in trees and
blades of grass
machine's made
destruction filled
the land
radiant men
sent to earth
that i man
lamp their darkness
with my poems.

love me like

2011-12-22T12:46:00.001-08:00

love me like
graceful hesitations
spike my love
with another
time is mile
in the vault
of the tender colors
radiant hands
benevolent smile
such a man granted
this torrid sex.

This genuine grace

2011-12-22T12:33:00.001-08:00

This genuine grace
this fashioned glass
this unclean growth
that sprout out
my lover man
the purest taste
the aroma true
the unclean fragrance
the lovelier hue
genuine flower
embitter the garden
winter weary
I come to you
you another man
superb you can.

I watch him eat

2011-12-21T18:19:00.001-08:00

I watch him eat
across the table
I smile he ask
what?
I say we are like
the cardinal lovers
feeding together.

Silly see sea

2011-12-21T17:45:00.001-08:00

Silly see sea
I see you
said sadly
so on the sue
sends it's salt
say yes just so
certain men
loves the blow.

certain men

2011-12-21T17:38:00.001-08:00

certain men
come by night
to others sheets
they come with
a great yes
of love me tonight
some convictions
are ready men
when the darkness
hides their sex
beneath the cross over
some men hides
their convection
on the food of honor
where the path
is none-to certain
some men ask again
if you will love them tonight
only in darkness do
they reveal their
hidden sexual self
behind lies of nos
I pack no fudge
I slip not in
I tongue no holes
and drip not from the stiff.

14 shorts

2011-12-21T08:27:00.001-08:00

fall's rain
fills the air
I walk
behind him
enjoying the view
-

a black man
in high winds
I wish they
were my hands
-

the dead leaves
rustle with wind
far off he is
calling to me
-

some men
are powerful
as the air
that can not
be seen
-

he looks like
a good lover
he turns away from me
-

I seeks a heart
just for the night
-

he is not
as chubby
as a buddha
still his beauty
will do
-

when he walks
down the alley
it is a spring
path to my heart
-

more beautiful men
have walk
through allies
then walked on water
-

beautiful full lips
are not
a dine a dozen
unless you only
count black men
-

each day that I
do not see him
is not in vain
the first snow
and other natural things
-

if he do not come
I am reminded
that I must also
wait for spring
-

I learned how to be
intimate with him
because nature
is intimate with me
-

the cardinals
and the robins
never eat the bread
I throw to the sparrows
it seems that
for that beautiful man
I need some new poems
-

I watched

2011-12-21T08:25:00.001-08:00

I watched
the sparrows eating
and thought
he only loves me
with a full mouth-

Five shorts

2011-12-21T08:23:00.001-08:00

beautiful man
he looks up
and smiles
-

when it comes
to love
autumn will leave you
then spring will
come for you
-

the nuisance
of his sleep
he is dreaming
hopefully of me
-

a dark man's face
holds the shine
of the sun
-

he asleep
beneath the tree
will not know
of my passing
-

if god didn't

2011-12-21T08:13:00.001-08:00

if god didn't
want me to
be gay
it wouldn't
have
created
beautiful men.

Life led me by the hand

2011-12-21T07:54:00.001-08:00

Love pushed me into a corner
like it was the second coming
pushed and grabbed at my genitals
with its dark bushy hairs once
a nest for men mouth
and semen of doubts
growing from the proving ground.
I need a man as savage
as money
leaving
and CinemaScope of mothers
who give up their children
for a new husband.
I need a blues in my blood
to live this American life.
I need terrible memories
once lost among my crawling
moments held in the
chamber of my doubts, digging for jass.
Digging for and swinging love making
and ragged ass scratching for a fuck
from my heart's home.
I can hear the train
chuckling along
in the corner of a small rain
and the moon is wearing
a laced grown made of
whistling and thinking
and beating back
the journey to the
promises made by the moon.
Too soon the touch blossoms,
too soon the condition
of being human will kill you.
Too soon is just
an impressionistic mirror
where only within you can
see the true God.
Too soon December
is a weight for change
and a Pope named
Governor of the meek.
The pores of my skin
is as ecstatic as
Hebrews leaking
stuffed hitch cocks.
Of Hitchcock
Silent is my vacant ear,
my vacated declares
and beautiful ecstatic
guilt of being nothing
more then a man in love
with mystic sorrows
and damned innocent
waiting to be born again.
But life is leaking away
from me by the tic of a second.
Life led me by the hand
to my death that wait and can
hardly stand not to take me.
Death waits in an East lake chair.
Death to me have
lied all the time but
will not die out of my life
until the time I
have not the strength to requisite
my resisting of it.
Somewhere there is
always living its life,
all the years of our time.
Somewhere the wind is alive,
the running round of the stars.
Alive life is the only God
written in cosmetic's cosmic stuff;
dust and dirt at dusk
and decomposing
of cold men and women.
Life can not not be whimsical
and uncalled for, for
none asks to be born.
Life is only by the whims
of the Gods who birth us
then leave us to fend for ourselves
as we leave tracks
in the hell am man's making
but Nature will not long
let us spoil the garden..
The Gods do not speak English
Nature is their interpreter
and she have tings being born
and dieing as not to care
about the survivable of humankind.
The priests can only
translate for man made Gods
and the priest is human
therefore susceptible to the flesh.
Only poets not the priest
can translate what the Gods do not believe.

Completely wasted

2011-12-21T07:48:00.001-08:00

Completely wasted
sensual pleasure
utterly mustered
beside the bed
with much to do
about everything
borrows small practical
disdained sums
of money in the
money game
small difficulty
small cafe
small was the
long loosing day
in 1896
the bent erotic
flowed to the
sea and seriously
probably it is so
I mentioned beauty
as being appropriate
to the cause
but the sympathetic
never fall.

Equally brain

2011-12-21T07:47:00.001-08:00

Equally brain
beautiful brain
nervous state
day kisses kissed
and hug to want
beloved face
impeccable legs
and horse hair beard
beautiful
consummation of
lacking nothing real
desired and well bread
as any lover save the first
well bred as
any lover man
pseudo-beauty
drink and blunts
boredom with the fuck
that is me.

Wallow me wrung

2011-12-21T07:40:00.001-08:00

Wallow me wrung
to brothels or tavern
Tamides left me in the lurch
right me epochal to acquired
all my debaucheries are stored
in the church smelling of
fragrance
it is what I possess
abjectly the Nile
is always wet
as the desert advance
Alexandria's son is shabby
with wants constant beauty
remains the fleshy
part of who he be
beauty is full of two years
and marvelous men in between
the fragrance and the fish.
If all our days
instantly the hour
approaches handsome
of face with his spinets
introverts sixty pounds in a
gambling house where
unexpected to loose
is no good news
the honorable household
is depraved with out
of heart power and expensive
thinking that it is at all
that four )'clock the grave is given
and bedrooms full of marvelous men
spend their smokes of their cigarettes
in rings of troublesome thoughts
that hallo the heads
of giving head and getting wed in bed
mechanically the lungs takes in smoothly
are all over our breath
newspaper cafe are full of empty eyes
and presently it is since ten thirty-five
the entire reading drinks plenty when
the slightest doubt is a handicap
of hardship blessing let it
investigate let it inquire
to reform immediately the
radicals storms the blessings
put up to block the way
perhaps today we wait
perhaps the needed ones will
be needed
perhaps the request will be granted
or grand guilds bent their backs
and shot the hole through
possession trimmed and tanned
rightful and minuteman
we defined the carrying out
of ourselves we one still in
our demands ingenuity surgical to do
is excesses of top seeking
this is true and as so
as hard as a surprise
by love and when
and then and this and that
other then the precisely\propose the sacrifices of the souls
of the last investigation
into the everything whole.

Kleitos

2011-12-21T07:39:00.001-08:00

Kleitos found
morally sympathetic
exhausted with
love making of his man
critically he woos
the servant who
raised him when
he took the boy in
Kleitos trembles
within his youth
his terrible anxiety
is that he love to deeply
that he worship the turning
of all Christians one by one
they fall from the cross
and stigmata bleed with the mind
of an idiot with pancake eyes
secretly he loves
like living on the edge
kleitos is to sympathetic toward
youths he have found in Greece
in that learning all of which
he exhausted like Padma
on leave to his holy land
Kleitos met a young actor
in an Oneal play
the fever that decimated
his loving ways told him not to
trust anything straggle or
sweeter then pure honey
illustrious in his make.

I'll be your

2011-12-21T07:38:00.001-08:00

I'll be your
lady in love tonight
if you want me to
I'll be all for you
the one is so hard to find
one and one will always be two
as our love is true
make your love to my mind
and our bodies will follow
no other need bother
they don't have a clue
about me and you
I'll be your lady in love tonight
if you want me to
it's all up to you
stand by my side
in light and in darkness
I will witness that it is you
the one true lover
and how you do.

let me build

2011-12-21T07:37:00.001-08:00

let me build
within your heart
a bridge never
torn apart
step up into my heart
I wait for you
to do as you do
to love me true
we the two who woo.

Wanted

2011-12-21T07:34:00.001-08:00

Wanted
a Cimon
a handsome man
a sensitive longing
a king Clemenes
in Spartan
a demurred man
me single Settian man
6'2 170#
willing to try
all but crime
against the soul
will the store
and to before
my time die
you Egypt
guarantee of
being black
strong of thighs
and upper back
with your mouth
full of rumors
and hands full
of doubts
you laughed at
but certainty
and able to
indifferent
the Spartan;s pride
all that I request
is that you be
who you are with your skin
illustrious as a
Spartan king.
-

Retort my religion lust

2011-12-21T07:32:00.001-08:00

Retort my religion lust
concerning my beliefs
that god is a she
understand the
empty-headed Julian of Greece
clever man that will not
condemn the ludicrous man
who in his religious way
will not wait
till kingdom come
such men have won
the understood
condemnation of any son
go I yes go
annihilate the sun
that is the weight of
the motion of all that
you have won the booties
of wars the friend's benefit
of the kill you read into it
as a under-christian
like under-cover brothers
in fro and dashiki
and ludicrous love
sent from above
mined from below
the annihilation is cold
as day old gold
now concerning you
religion beliefs or your God
or Hermeteles or me
sleep a short while
notice often the swell
and ideal love is
grief-grief-stricken
with lust receive
the epitaph
your cousin in love
the last days are
spited into my color
and we grow together
we deeply grieve
we resentment of
all that is weak
of souls entirely
I have stolen
from Mary Lou
that Mary of God
Aristodemes is cold
as a satiated snow
the end is near
and during our last days
of the first that waits within
a poet once told me with
his red weepings of green and yellow
buying the market place
on a dine of doing time
as a man within his skin
and I O yes I
the bully bull of a boy
did drop my draw and let it in
he told me with hoe dead eyes
that destine is a traitor
and teller of lies
he told me that
I world rise down round the west end
and find my south just north
of the border and that I
will cover with words
the sky and that my
friend the painter
Steve will paint
satisfying as I feigning of spites
and perhaps under weed my love of him
and all men of human's's make
Cimon my cousin kin
grief-stricken to his
soul's gate waits
by the grave stone no bigger
then a apple skipped a
cross the river of graves
he waits the return of sensitive
resentment grow, yes grow
together deeply grow with
all images between thee
grow like sorrow close
to the end grow, yes grow
into an imagined man
see now the taken
henceforth malnourished
and excuse and wild
hair never the same
receive me receive
this poem as if it is
all through one.

I have seen him

2011-12-21T07:27:00.003-08:00

I have seen him
regularly in the tavern
slipping his run and coke
entirely unknown
to who I be slowly
I do approach
manly figure is he
suspicious is his
manly needs
I understood precisely
he that gave no change
to any black man such as me
and still I approach on
to his side where
on the bar he rest his arm
a steel gray a pleasing smile
that pleasure my ends
dark curry hair
as wild as I desire it
I ask, is it lust
that slick your mind
is it union that I desire
naturally I am
not of your kind
and you insignificance
is plainly known
that black man
have the oldest soul?
I suffer no flesh
no persistent desires
to touch me is to
set yourself afire
I am the first Adam
to an Adam born
I am the union
between the moon and the sun
I betray no God and then
I am still only a man
entrance into my world
is but an understood thing
before you sat your denial
sit and enter me
as if you wish
to entertain the ideal
that I will not go about
exposing your disastrous
scandals that you keep
just below the something
of your dreams
three weeks did I woo
and not a kiss did he spare
still I suffer not
his own weariness
until the time I last saw him
I did not look to see
if he was still sick
with lust and longing
for a black man to fuck
beware of he who quickly
expose his indifference
by way of the entrance
made by words
still comes the night
of bar fights
and dark drunk men
made by the poetic word
that I woo to get in
the night regularly without a fight.

Youth is ablaze

2011-12-21T07:27:00.001-08:00

Youth is ablaze
with being young
its amusement into
the name of creamy cum
into its activity
what is won, the birth
of a daughter
or son, ask me
who is he
this vulgar construct
of watery day
detestable in his needs
to deceive the deceiver
the day is in training
to be your own tomorrow
the statue is ivory and
gold the tumble of the tremble
are full of holy holes
and propel conduct is no more
little however it be so
the talking tongue
are salts of sores
the knavish lad
bend forward his back
in loving motion the
prick attacks
it is not enough
the poet's word
to run around the words that run
already the day is baked in clay
already the young waits
on another slacken but of fun
that desires the flesh of the young
love torn my lorn ablaze the night
and beautiful black men
fills all me sight limited
by the city's grayness of night
the city waits for
the amusements of night
and darkness flings itself
into the business end of day
the general employee
have not been paid
mankind can not do without
his slaves, sexual or of the soul
he dash his wreckage of words
he dash his work of words
into every hole
such a sin have it always been
never one to sin no more
the moon is still gray
monotonous and some did
will fall but not tonight
as you bed your dreams
for the desires of the flesh
isn't always clean
voluptuousness I find
in your name
figure your lust with
my sexual guns
possesses is the last
lustful way that beautiful
blacks men knows hot to play.

here my love

2011-12-20T19:53:00.001-08:00

here my love
the day breaks open
just because
it has been
done before.

What misfortune

2011-12-20T19:51:00.001-08:00

What misfortune
verse the dead
what christian mourning
stalks the vestibule
what is kept from the truth
when strange pleasure
of verses to the adored
speaks in low voices
full of the night's dark
the last day of the Christ
is constantly on our lips
and supplications of Mary
combs the rooms
where the middle
age man\come too soon
and immodest boys
tugs at their tools
and the perfect sense
of rhythm is gold
to my silver to
what I hold
Mithridates tops
the hill with his man
and powerful cities
made of sand
dissolve in the rain
the bitten path
leaves you to
the soothsayer
who dwells in the future
when power is born
and the secret place
in my heart offers
no clarity of opinions
send in the offers
of my heart
send in the
sufficient of poetic art
understand the distinguished one
who shadowy run
expose the perils
of poetry and let
the ancestors be
content to lie in
their graves and
wait the wait of
man's coming downfall
King Mithridates
salutary as on
spears my fortune
with the pen
unexpected to be let in
let the noble companion
remembered the traces
of time as if only
time is divine
the vestibule wept
it's reunion out of joint
and excursions
plumb the perils
that wait the wait.

old man

2011-12-20T19:49:00.001-08:00

old man
actor brought
to entertain
the young
with your wisdom
elder of the
drawing room
never come
too soon
you mingled
with crinolines
and Africa
you who love
the perfume
of middle aged
men
recite your love
with a sexual tune
shall I forbearance
your skin with
my musk?
My garden flower to pluck
growing in the dark
the darkness of your skin
the epigrams
euphoria is dead
of love in his bed
the stressing is
not necessary
the sacred valor
of hidden love letters
in a shoe box
in the dark
perhaps not
fanatic shouts
lies like leaping love
the quatrain pleases me
the phrases betray
that Prometheus
is a tragedy waiting
to happen and he
who is brilliantly with age roll
the boulder up hill
is a reminder of all my fears
it was seven
against Thebes
it was Datis and
his ranks of soldiers
who demanded
that time be
put on trial
too many poets
are cowardice
with their quatrains
and rimes stressed the stressing
a dead language
famous for being dead
when it is the spirited
letters that are
the living language
that are forming
within the head
to many old men
become stale with
well wishing phrases
also done down and dead
I expect to grow old
like Cassandra bold
remarkable in my skin
but now the hour is not near.

light the dim candle

2011-12-20T19:47:00.001-08:00

light the dim candle
dim the light
appropriate kindlier
our room is in
love tonight
this vision revery
immersed entirely
the shadows are
suggestions of
what we can do
disrobe the candle
of it's low light
appropriate thoughts
are not allowed tonight
legal sex has a right\
the age is clear
the meat to touch
the shadow flesh
of the fuck
is cast into the light
come come
you kindlier of love
you crackle dark
you vision of
the poet';s thoughts.

The Surrounding Center

2011-12-20T19:45:00.001-08:00

the years of years
the circumstances
remembered
the so many feelings
surrounding our love
just because the just
is right to sex
the dark people's night
and dispel his sorrows
out of so many men
I walk where the years
have created my fears
this house did doubt
this neighborhoods
within me this
which I have lost
my main man
to his dreams.

his soul

2011-12-20T19:44:00.001-08:00

his soul
yes that part
of him his
pains burns
to let me in
his truth
yes that part
ambitious and
much an able
snatched dexterity
naught his hands
at my wast
my long deep breath
impertinent with sweat
his prolonged prologue
his tears laments
in a dizzy state
with rivulets
of rain and
blood and drops
of pre cum his waves
just because the
revolution of our love
was forestalled in the wait
that on me my
ancestors laid
his cleaving marrow
yes this is confusing
it is what he does to me
when he do me done.

I will ayuga your skin

2011-12-20T19:43:00.001-08:00

I will ayuga your skin
my connotation of prostitution
as b-boy bubble butt
getting fucked
B/D top but your
baguette a baby Crockett....

Doorways leads

2011-12-20T19:42:00.001-08:00

Doorways leads
if you are led
southern crosses
tattooed on the
fore head
crystal charms
and combat booths
residue of lust
cicatrix and crucifix
which holds you in bondage
sexual choices of
a proud black man
flaunting his lust
for affections
crescent moon follow
him home dangling
dreams of those now gone
the path way is pitted with rocks
with negativity that
will ware you down
and pawn your crown
of thorns, life is
worth more then
a pair of sneakers
with someones else brand name
life is worth the price
of a condom to keep you sane
thee war of Kuwaiti is
the whites man's game
and blacks the same
the endless dunes is
a re frame
let me smooth yours
snappy pubic hairs
I use no lye, let me
unbounded your desires
I go down on my knees
it tents and cities
and feed you reserve-unit
rations when we choke
because of the smoke
bellowing from lit
to light oil wells
soldiers are leaders
soldiers are led
soldiers bed the desert
and other soldier men
soldier also gives head.

I keep many things

2011-12-20T19:41:00.001-08:00

I keep many things
names of men
the list is long
of them now gone
I keep my hurts
my overgrown scars to
smooth the stones
these gray grave markers
standing strong when their
bares are now bones
the marker of graves
of black men this disease took them
they did not want to go
the feeble attempt of names
sawed into quits
that covers no one
I have no needles
I have no threads
only patch works now
memories of them now dead.

AIDs 30 Years on

2011-12-20T19:40:00.001-08:00

30 year it have been
since the first one
marked on the head
of his dick a St. Louis teenager
died in 1969
30 years I carry
a touch whose flame
fought the winds
whose light flickers
to light my way
whose light dims
at the close of day
30 years packed tight
with black men like
some stinking cargo hold
of rotting flesh
I weep not for
them gone for they
have gone home
but for my young brothers
who because of their
sexual needs reject
the rubber for naked skin
and allow Aids in
brothers safe guard
yourselves it ain’t all that
protect yourselves against
the treat that will eat
away all your flesh
I will not leave you along
to sex with only yourself
30 years of death
and nature is not to blame
all things have a right
to life all things even
this disease that takes away life
it is you who must protect
your sexual lovers in the night.

The window is sitting

2011-12-20T19:37:00.001-08:00

The window is sitting
on a ledge dreaming
of the junkies who
ware stocking on their knuckles
the man with blue blood
is made up of grief
and his eyes are
the color of homicide
his tongue is an entrapment
his blood is drunk
on male love and
his smile searches
the sour needles
struck in the veins
of a hanging hung
on his flashbacks
memories are never
as innocent as graveyards
or the drug of sweet cum
that some men drink
like booze.
To soon he will monkey up
to his neglect and his
declared space on the corner
that he keeps beside all of
his indifference
the ice of his eyes
sees the lost regret
wallowing down the
let down of the streets
his ceaseless drugs
declare that spiting out
the blood from its sucker
punch will be practicing
color in the dark
there is a lump of the
real dream in his heart
there is a stolen bed
in his ways when
the night is as cheat
as lost prayers used
to introduce him to his God
who is pissing out
salvation that bruise
the skin of a dark corner
in paradise.

O night O day

2011-12-20T19:36:00.001-08:00

O night O day
O once again
O stay I am
the sucker thief
I steal fore skins
to ware as a ring
O rawdog queer
my tears are prayers
against your nightmares
O desperation of breathing
my home breath
O spent cares of my comfort
that rest on my warm breast
O evicted love
O landlord of men cum
I holler I scream
and the two-bit whores
came to save me.

I rolled down

2011-12-20T19:35:00.001-08:00

I rolled down
my tongue so that
he could take
a strode and
my nameless owning
the carders of my ears
bullets was
shot from my
nostrils they
ripped the image
of the fair skinned Christ
who offed me
a stagger of tabernacles
the lines in my face
was tasks that
I never got around to
offer me water to
shade my love of youngsters
offer me me relief
from the fire
of your touch
when grief
stalks me pass a
nameless rolls of Negroes
digging out
the eyes of
white soldiers
who killed the
last meaning
of being free.

You who renounce

2011-12-20T16:55:00.001-08:00

You who renounce
my love of black men
just because the Bible
it is said tells you so
do not lay with men
as you do with women
all you offer is fault chatter
self-centered is your move
so let me school
God is a lover
and bisexual to boot
your prudery is
all ridiculous
all hateful
most ungodly
and rise not even
to the childishness
of children
most certainly you
prefer the narrow view
the narrow road to truth
laid by your priest or preacher
a lair by any other name lies still
and what of Jesus in his efforts
sought to heal, sought to invite in
the acts of righteous men
but now who tells us
what is right against our wrongs
so is this that he himself
traveled his land with only men
till Mary caught his eye
still he loved one above the others
tell me if I lie
now with so much under the bridge
so much time have come and gone
that what once was writ for only men
can not stand true to modern women
so much time is laid waste
we do not know what filled his mouth
it seems he could not or wish not to write
we do not know what filled his mouth
what sex passed his tongue
the church is a single thought
that even sexually the priest
can not live up to.

up date 12-15-2011

2011-12-15T19:33:00.001-08:00

05-27-2011

The heat of the sun
inundate me
with warm wind
just fresh across
his tongue
our love is only
recognized by
our history
the breeders came
and murdered it
in its sleep when
we was not on guard
my mouth disdain language
my hands are
re[eating idiocies
used to touch
the memories left
on the kitchen table
like old newspapers
that have seen
better winds blowing
the streets, yes
the real reality
of being gay is
worth all the money
in my dreams
that I keep tugged
between my spendings
and my hollering at
the nobody of
my desires.
-

05-28-2011

There are no
cheat queers
no kindness
that is hollering
prayers at the
king of hearts
there is no
breath that can
not dance
can not scream like a
whore's prayer
my money is my lawyer
my two-bit is listening
to the tic of my heart
that weeps its humiliation
like standing on the corner
waiting for a John who
I can sweat into the throat
of traffic
there is a bed of speed
that is my thief my rancid reality
that creeps against the sucking
of me and my night
always nasty always
full of silk panties
worn under my breath
-

I have spent
my life suddenly
whoring the streets
with a gentle hello
and the ghetto knows
my name and the
city I have tamed
and the game is rigged
and my throat
is full of tears
and my bones
are hollow but strong
and my dreams
are my landlord
I traffic in sex
real sex not
that two bit
simulation kind
seen on TV between
breeders who would
murder me because I
am the way of all flesh
my sex is always alive
even when introduced
to Gods and angel a like
like a humiliation
of lost nights
and I yes I this me
this bone bruising
queen, me, my own
queerness that
will kill all of your
desperation and
replace then with kindness
I am feared because
the panties I ware
are not made of silk
with a lady's lace
but make of little
games played by
boys in the tenement
buildings ready to fall
I am the midnight call
to come quick
as quick as you
pop a nut when
I tongue your slit
-=

My poems and My High Heels

The ceaseless needles
of my pens poem out
poems like I am a
junky or a sour blue
the polices are
officers on my back
but will not take
me in if I come
in their hats
I am a practicing
homosexual
in living color
of all the colors
of man I stand
I declare my space
in the working of things
in me many men
believe that I
can save them
because I am not
embarrassed by
taping down my tool
to school the men
who hide in bushes
and go the next
morning having
hung their dicks
on the tip of my tongue
I am the spirit
in red dress
and my high heels
are a weapon
O roll your shoulders
into my heart you
know that I will
close the door
when the wreckage
of yesterday is
a still birth
full of moonlight.
-

The next morning
was barely hung
on the full moonlight
the color of cum
the sky was sobbing
dead rain and the
flowers have all gone insane
there was a devastating
smile in the refection
of the rainbow and a
drunk hurt that cursed
the birth of strange
spirits trying to
touch the sky
O why do I suppose
that memories never
grow old their
indifference full
of the wonder of any
overgrown graveyards
they say that the junkies
who stands on the ledge
neglected the entrapment
well breed in the head
they say that the
ancestors are all dead
when no one call upon them
dead in the garden of my heart
and I disrespected
the funeral decorated
with nightmares
they say my face
is a hard murder
of romance that
recite the image
in the mirror
but it was not me
who tore apart
your willingness to be free
it was not me
who screamed
at the summer
over dressed as some
queen on the midnight
corner where men
cruse the dead semen
tainted with a deadly load
they say that ex-lovers
are landscapes waiting
to be pruned
from my memories
but it was not me
who painted over
all of your windows
so that none could see
the awakening of
your sexual needs
no it was not me
who lost my clarity
in a bucket of malevolent
thrown like stones
skipping across
your soul only to
be blown in the hugs
of willing arms.
-

The anguish
of my fantasies
are a presumption
without credentials
and my intellect
is ignored by
the tiresome
solicitous needs
to be exploited
sexually I am
a trick tucked
between my desires
and my aberrations
I am blue black
I am invisible
to my kind who
finds me tiresome
because I am divine
and holds their
\futures between my legs
the night desire me
the night is my friend
it hides me within.
-

05-29-2011

Some men go for light skin
some the same for that straight long hair
some for big dicks
some a cute young thing to ware
some men are player player
get you to give them anything
but these men will not be tied down
with a wedding ring
some men are as dark as dirt
and will give it to you at their homes
cook you dinner and pay your phone
so glad to belong
some men play games like that
they will steal even your blackness
then blame the whole damn thing on you
some men are ever so smooth
to woo you with a kiss
some men will hit
some men drink to forget
that they are in love with you
some men will hit you up for gas
every other day
some men got a little bit on the side
yell some men be that way
some men will take you to school
some men suffer no fools
some men are to good to be true
and spend all of their little money on you
and they say a good man is hard to find
I do believe that some men are blind
seeking the flesh instead of the mind

06-12-2011

The wind chased
him into my arms
when I saw his
reflection in my soup.
Suffering from the fever
of love he grinned
at my needs and wants
Patrick the Scotch drinker
Patrick who Davided
me into becoming Dravidian
He was all about
the moments the here and now
like some black angel
who added water
to his Scotch and
spoke of Baldwin as
the savor who walked
on the water of our
consciousness to be complete.
I saw him grow
soft on me, his
form of blushes
his black-ash colored
skin that he was
not a shade to hide in
to use as a shadow.
He was touched
by some meditation,
some fire, some
deep waters
something he
could be a metal
blossom, a mirror
a rainbow with
tattered edges.
He was a dark word
a shoot black fired
across the line
of our enemies.
It was plain to see
that he was
my axis, my atom
in need, many
times I climbed
his spirit without fear
of falling
because I had rested
within the edge
of his flesh.
To fuck is not to love
but the love of the fuck
is caused by the woodiness
of his pubis hairs
the darkest part of him.
-

Openly I am me
against all banishment
that my people
throw at me.
The black serpent runs
the church. The apple
is rotting on the altar
the terror is the truth
that God have a sex
no one or the many
more then two.
The unfettered morning
will not wait till
they see our enchantment,
our blood of unites
and skin que mon amour
The exiled waits
in his fight that
right will be
seen as right
and de fur serpent
stains du jour
extrême taunt of skin
we fight that fight
will be seen as right
even our own
of God given deceitful
the old moon is
our side it have
seen it all, we are
no stolen light, we are
bright in our darkness
we are troubling the waters
we are your
breath's blush your
sisters and brothers
in the fight that
true love will be
seen as worth fighting for.

06-18-2011

If you look at
a Henry Fuseli or
William Blake painting
of their white women
you will see that once white men
loved their women fleshy with a kiss
of fat but modern whites men have
de-evolve from that now a days they
like them bone thin once while walking
down the 16 st. mall behind a group
of white women a 20 to 30 years I said
I just can't understand how you can
have sex with that kind
I just can't wrap my mind why
they are so thin so narrow if you
view them from the side they are
hardly there at all
even if you strange your eyes
black men like their women both black
and white with a bit
of meat solid in their stance
on their feet hip bearing women
to birth their child
while white men like
them thin not thee at all
I like my white men with a bit
of fat but my black men
any way they come
as long as they are mentally strong
in some African cultures when a
woman or girl is to wed the
older women take
her into a hut or house
for a month and
make sure that she is well feed the
need is to fatten her up
for her man and in time
she walk from it
transformed down
to her big bones cuss for the puss
as men are apt to say so if you
see a black man with
his white women think not that he
is wearing her as
some white badge trophy
but that in her fat and his dark skin
there is something ancient there it is
true that I do not understand
white men even tho some are
my friend there are ways
that he have that puzzle
me to no end I ask myself
what kinda man wish to
starve his women to bone and skin
that she feel that she must
regurgitate to fit into the latest style
designed by men for the what he like
before he call her his own
white men like to own this is true
be it woman’s flesh or me or you.
-
06-23-2011

I once was fitted
by what I wore
my booths shinning
my rank two fingers deep
I met my lover in the Army
where all enlisted are
brothers in the cause
don't ask don't tell
a secret we could not
afford I would
have given my life
if it came to that
for the American way
for you right to parade
against this war
I had my orders
shipped from Ft Leonard Wood
where I was trained to
take a life without
regret to numb myself
and pull the trigger
to hit my marksmen mark
in AIT and morning PT
in mess halls and platoons breast to backs
they got mines and I their
your left right your left right
Johnny got your gal and gone
sand my hair sand in my booths
the sweaty helmet I ware, the gas
mask the deadly air
the fallen brothers
the cross on the grave markers
the tiny flags
we report for duty
we clean our M-16s
we shower together
as men, we smoke
our grass and pop our pills
then we sleep as not to kill
I have known killers been one myself
for we are soldiers
come to rescuer men
POW the black flag wave
we liberate
our brothers pinned down
we try not to be caught
in the cross fire but shit happens
we save our dicks that stands
at attention for calmer days
we sleep in villages whenever we can
I got me an over-nighter
i hunt reconnaissance
from door to door
I seek the American's foe
who will do me harm
the medic is by my side
the generals far away behind the lines
we are the chess pieces
that they play the board is the killing fields
down the way
the gunners, the armor division
the leather necks and the grunts gun ho God given
grace bold forgiven
and when I have served my time
when I am a short timer
put my helmet over my booths
and let them stand in line
for rotation of being recalled to duty
I have but one regret
and this is it that
only the soldiers knows the toll, the cost paid
to blow a trumpet before the grave
a flag on our coffin
can not wave
the gun salute
only shoots holes into the sky
we brave soldiers we who
served and we die
we legless, we with sightless eyes
we who because of what
we see in war must fight
against out own minds
we brave who answered the call
we stand tall, we stand tall
for you all.
-

30 year it have been
since the first one
marked on the head
of his dick a St. Louis teenager
died in 1969
30 years I carry
a touch whose flame
fought the winds
whose light flickers
to light my way
whose light dims
at the close of day
30 years packed tight
with black men like
some stinking cargo hold
of rotting flesh
I weep not for
them gone for they
have gone home
but for my young brothers
who because of their
sexual needs reject
the rubber for naked skin
and allow Aids in
brothers safe guard
yourselves it ain’t all that
protect yourselves against
the treat that will eat
away all your flesh
I will not leave you along
to sex with only yourself
30 years of death
and nature is not to blame
all things have a right
to life all things even
this disease that takes away life
it is you who must protect
your sexual lovers in the night.
-

I keep many things
names of men
the list is long
of them now gone
I keep my hurts
my overgrown scars to
smooth the stones
these gray grave markers
standing strong when their
bares are now bones
the marker of graves
of black men this disease took them
they did not want to go
the feeble attempt of names
sawed into quits
that covers no one
I have no needles
I have no threads
only patch works now
memories of them now dead.
-

11-09-2011

The wounds I ware
are no lost of limbs
no hands, arms
or legs
the wounds I bare
is within
beneight my skin
the bone of my skull
is in my mind
that fights me
to define what all this killing is
I shot homogenizationwith my load
in the throat
he grittle out blood
and sons unborn
as if to slowly die
I had to slep
over his living body
and approch
the next door
where gehide hides\my weapon is still warm
it smokes at my side
an idea took for the eyes
of sargent Brooks
a Mississippi spy
struck of mine
he can not see
but he against
his first reply
his first wishes
did not die
the sand is warm
between my thights
and clump togetter
around a drop of blood
a house cat caught
within his cry
in our war is now
a decent hermit
like going
from door to door
within the building
there are no shadows\
that will not kill
there is no heap
of furntures
that do not hide
the sight of the cross hair
centered on my heart
that wants to do
only good in our world
sargent brooks is
state side with
the sightless eyes of his boy
from here on
he shall know
only the darkness
within and without
all the lights
that he shall
now know is
the lights of dreams
he will see his way
thought the boambed out
strets and buildings with torn
curtains and stained
dinner clothes and fallen cilings and
dark corners that
hides the booby tracks
waiting to take a life
no one dies in their dreams
all can see
within our dreams
that peace is to be fought for
but no oil or such
commodies things
that have no connection to Gods
the surge I mock
I embrace the suck
of the san boy
my hillbilly armor
is from the landfill of metal
geardo is a fobbit
and every groundhog
day is the next day
Rummy's dummies
will be waxed
and weekend warriors
are single-digitimidgets
I am no 4-f
I would 79 any
who thinks me so
I coxwaire flat
the flow of war
I glad boy my
fallen brothers
I grunt and booierat
I GSW by guns
the honey cart and
honey dippers the
hooch is now
clean save for
the stink of death
in the form of
midnight fires of
corbendenoxice die
Jhon Wayne died out
of the lie of
his stage proformance
O D is the sky
opcon open sheaf\
the OSS is over-niterthe fence haji stove
soot my soul
the jingle truck
sings me to sleep
I buy DVDs
at the jingle market
someone pinned
a night letter
on my soul
and I soldier bold
as to fuck in bed
the red head PFC
who gave me head
in my dreams
I call myself\tower head
dune coon
hajji camel jocket
in Mortaritavelle
the sweetboy is stolen
by Ali Baba and sold
to Chuville
who is doing
the death blossom
who the Frago can
not stand along
the main purse
the main boobs
the man cave of war
the testerong
manny man\
camp Bomba condo
is inside the wire
some of my worrors brothers
are firding into the brown
and the sleeping cobra
have given me V D
the gun bunny wont
give up the pussy
but he my man
says BOLTICA
when fumtu
wwe was zipped in
into the ambush
what is your A T F?
We boom-boom
we leater day coons
we rabbits of red
and white honkiec
dressed to be bed
and we see the diaper heads
as not a man
we men who are bold
to wed a man
we trading cum
we applesauce
we thickly spread
and give kisses like
giving head
and I am balled up
against the boney
Ali Barbuda does
nothingness full battle rattle
they plant their
bombs behind
the burred blues canoe
and sail you off
to heave heaven or hell
the bohic is not sweet
in camp ass and Christianity
in action never wore
a dome of obedience and
the dynamic truth
is that the echelons
above reality
is all flash-blast
don't handle my
ghetto grip
the idiot stick
is warm and I
know no mookie
at o dark 30
and P O Gs are
P U C in my mind\
I decline bogints
I trust no T E V Ps
and tarket peek
the waxed bodies
that is sweet in sweat
and male musk
and on my tongue
and sweet swimmers
of fresh cum
are swimming for the egg
the bodies that can yalla
the soldier's angels
that I have known
the angels are
in their graves
the dirt soldiers
the F O B taxi
takes you in a circle
the GWOTs got the guns
the Hiji mart
Hiji my patrol
the K B R is kug
the button man
rakes it in
the soldiers of the lord
ace C Y A with orders
Fred is in charge
the barrel smells like A-Zoo
the girl scouts are on leave
a piece of navy cake
is sweet in my thoughts
leave a/s/i on the stall wall
a still cock has
no concious
the transvestitve crown
is no a word but Aaron's rod
when we abdicate the
-

11-09-2011

The cosmic scale
of our love is like
sprigs of trellised
blossoms smelling
of April's pale droppings
and pale smells
of damp love like
moist sex and musk
slowly unfurling
slowly becoming
common place
in our heart.
-

Once I pissed on the continental divide

2011-12-11T17:05:00.001-08:00

Once I pissed on the continental divide

Once I pissed on the continental divide
And quenched the thirst of New York and LA
I pissed in the Mississippi it swims
In the head of Louisianan
I pissed in the Charles and intellectual
Radcliffe, MIT and Harvard heads had
Black mid-westerner comm. collage vision
Strong and stringent
I pissed blood the Red River
And Color-a-do carving through the rocky
If you are wondering, why I did such things
Well an ancienter of my blood saw
A struggling aisle of water
And was so move as to piss out the Nile.

Those amateur

Those amateur
American of the
Salvation Army
Of restrictions
Against male love
That broad board
Broad-shoulder men
Who people the Christian
Church and wait on
The second coming
Those minute minded
Men of forestalled
Cum and came come
When the deed is done
People me with salty
Tears kept in a jar
Made of years kept
Behind the sofa like
Some dead cremated
Grandmother
Who was ashamed
Of the way that I love
Those Jim Crow brothers
Cleaning the jungle of
Trees and dead praying
Insets mattering
Their death like
Seriously foretold
Nuts on the rocks
And size of sighs
Forgot those old
Eyes of promises
Made to forget
And waistline of
The best man that
I can get when
The night falls
Into desire
And old news
Is paddled as new
And machines
Of thoughts with
Rotcy in the
Hair of infantry
Of West Point
The points are
Pinned to listen
To something of
Sucked by that
Mother fucker
Doctor Higgins
Soft Britta of
Hiking hair with
Cracked hair and
Knocking nobs
Of kneels in the
Tongue of Tuesday
Morn and back
Door boys interested
Is rested and lets
Not forget the amigos
Darken then night
Lit room of drunk
Passion hurried
To the feather-bed
Where home gives
Heads to complete
Cocks in stained
Underwears.

Gavin gonna

Gavin gonna
Answer me a poem
Boastin of how
Good I come
Phillip fag me
Boastin how sweet
I suck so sweet
Stephen handsome
Lad had a fag hag
That made all
His deals to
Fill the gas bill
Paul loves falsetto
Some caught in
His throat
Edward ware
His master’s yoke
Blond like the
Diva he be Steve
Will never please
Me Arnie was
From somewhere
Unknown he will
Blow you for a song
Without stripping off
Your pants he also
Is good with his hands
Craig celebrate
His 25th year
Loving Ian
The Jersey kid
John writes
Haikus and sonnets
Of rug-haired boys
He’s susceptible to panic
When he comes
Adrian wants to
Be a Stanford wife
To a professor
In his own right
Lacy is good
For intrusion
Into the dark
Forest where
Poets looses
Themselves to
Dead words
Gerard stands
Guard over his
Loves like a lost
Hound sniffin
The crotch
Jonathan got the
Drop on little Miss
Sunny Lou Ann
Who really is a
Real man’s man
Selling his seeds and
Cum by day and
By night his
Boyish ways
Cliff got hot
Nuts of healin
Potion he’s
The boy who
Park cars
And George
Teaches school
He’s inevitable
But no one ever knew
Vaughn and Don
Are only friends
With benefits
Of gathering hands
David who lives alone
Is the writer of this poem

Turn around

Turn around
The world the
Boys can tell
That the sky
Is pulled like
Foreskin dark
And damp with
The boys are new
To town and
Pores are open
To the erect
Tongue of
Manly love found
In the morning breath
When night crawls
Into its shell
It is a warm
Thought to
You a nervous
Twitching of my hands
Along goodbye said
To the wind a color
Of cold water and
Cover of rain to
Play the game
With a pound
Of fisted breath
Turn around
The lips are able
To sing our
Songs unafraid
To love the ways
That man make
Love turns me
Inside out and
Come upon the
Beachhead of hearts
The war have died
Of its own cause
And in my eyes
Are all the boys
Who sooth the
Like hours of substitute
Pillows and nerve
Endings warm
As a bet of
Desires given
Yes the hour
Of our love is
Still erect
With what
Was left on
Our lips when
They met the
Beginning of love.

Pirates of nude angels

Pirates of nude angels
Black as any black man
And dirty red black men
And high yellow black men
And snow queen black men
Ripe men blackass fruits
Peaches and its juice
And flesh between the teeth
A scar of slavery
A branding only seen
By angels and lovers
I warned you black
Men I who patch
You wounds like
Whitman I
Pharmacist your
Needs with settian’s
Poetry I am your
Sexual product your
Doctor in arms
Keep me away from
Children pets and Gods.

When he is too ill the mind that

When he is too ill the mind that
Contain no fouler friend
But the painful mystery
Of choosing a mate,
The worse to hatch
To worst to catch
The worst to match
Each in an equal end.
His power and mannered ways
Succeeding his master’s proud
His smile leads the crowd
With fashion to beguile
All the poet’s songs.
He take hold of a company of ladies,
Liking their delicacies
He woe them with sincere silence
Their hives strive to thrive
Without deciphering the
Thickest flower of abject pleasure.
I met him beautifully full
Of his pride and he struck me
That he could be a woman
In some other life left alone
Against a breaking heart
With secret longings
Never satisfied quite happy.
Like a lady with a lamp
He stands in the great history of the land
A noble type of goodness for all men
Like a fair lily on a river floating
Pass two frail growing of a lover’s
Desire held in opened palm of being human.
The distance priceless gift he gives is
Respective thrift of man to man divine
He has chosen to pay for bread and spilled wine.
In life’s tempestuous hour
By the weary way feeling imparted
He remain justly to the present day
Of an age’s fault giving little attention
To the much easier to do ill for mentioned
Toward a heart bought pass passion’s glow.
The blissful scenes he surveyed
To pick out the talk to long to
Shine with wit on a rugged line
Little that there is he suits them
Not for food but the engineering
Of a way ward emotion.
He have played the actor
With inexpressive sex
Fitting like old shoes of an old father’s body.
He is uncle to all in his most sweet
Admired remorse of cold weather.
How weak a thing is educated blood
Not understanding its own daily pumping
Of solitary business.
The ladies of tomorrow are cheerful
As daughters and sisters of an open answers
They can not rule him with their charms
Of accepting humor, a mistress of itself.
Both beautiful and tucked with enjoyment
Toward comfort’s retirement of silence.
He wonders along while
Winter evening like a silver arrow’s motion
Of frozen dying weeping of a wedding garment
Hung it the old weather of a dark closet.
Within him wit clashes immediately.
He is never dull by degrees or sense
Less tiresome amount memories.
One may say of him that there is something
In him as a flower growing in the darkness
Summoned smartly from a deep talk
Divided mouth deep in a solitude
Known by a few who welcome the punishment
That appear from the wicked.
The great sun goes down into a weeping
And he comes to life as great riches
In little land where wealth to often is
Obedience to the eternal praises that few enjoy.
His human virtue obey the alluring
Silk of a night gown’s incarnation
Of mechanical skin on the inner body of the world.

Milky darkness men

Milky darkness men
Atuming my stress
Trees color at
Rest dinted rivers
Flowing as some
Great battle song
Centre with
Meadows level
Almost gone
Shaft the
Traced wound
That steep the
Bush and drawn
Lashes of sate
The burnt food
Is a corpse
Controlled by
Grey-green
Temperateness
Spiritual grace
And the place
Where thoughts
Lay is traceless
Sweet of all
Its undoing
Lost in the
Furthest reaches
Of a St. Louis
Hill in the
Shape of a
Bloom of
Rainbows O
My fair black man
Footing hold
Short half-hour
Of winter’s cold
Cool as hitting
Blossom helped
Indoor of
Houses quite
And fall of
Warmth and darkness that
Warms the fellowship
Of busy hands of
Work a day men
Mush-dreaded and
Standing alone
Shinning their
Quote on their
Tongues of
Showers frail
The steady watched
For and watch the
Swift stringy corpse
Close-rooted in
The ground when
It is time to
Bury your son
On Cummor hill
Full of graves and
Again and drops of
Cum then will
The hornborn
Boy bloom
Into a man
Of Wordsworth’s
Grave and
Rainbow skin
With country lips
Almost hip as
Trips taken
In an awaken
Running toward
Little Richard
Playing his guitar
Missouri beyond
The highest spray
Of for forgotten love
Black music is
Played in meadows
Of nude boys
Dancing on the
Graves of
Ashes sweet
With trees
And dark days
Come to meet
The dawning
Of the sun
Trace me
Fair as some
Color boy
Sharper then
The sweetness
Of honey a
River flows
Through youth
When I steep
The shore and
Bank by the boy
Burred and
Dented and
Dark in his
Making as to
Fee-wed the
Golden footed
Land where he
Make his bed
Out under the
Sun of foreign
Boys full of
Cum O say
That I have won
The last race
Toward the
Get-you sun
And crown me
With grace
Conterfoiling
Foiling underflighted
Alight to disclose
Fresh cheeksface and ass
Smooth as said
To aid all my
Midnights bedded
To days that
Shine before
The embrace
Of seas my
Watery home
O stay long
The true years
And name the
Honor that
I give O
Call me love
Call me when
The king with
His golden crown
From the town
And unto him
Be so true as
To short his
Fair head
With jewels
I am the
King’s friend
I am his
High degree
Blind folded
By sand and
Spunks and
Kneeled knees
Lowly down
Beside the sea
Where Ophelia drawn
Her flowed
Dress having
Drunk its fill
Pulled her by
Its heavy load
Deep within
The serving man
Call and she
Shall speak
Of mad Hamlet
Price who
Dismissed her
Love freely
Given as
Wilted petals
Of a plucked rose
Love her
Brother shall
Answer the call
When she falls
From life’s
Grace and be
As wise as the dead as
A taste of it on my lips
I have drunk the drown
Woman’s water and
Tasted the dew-down grace
Before I
End this song
Before I
Make of my
Breathe a kind
Long regret
Redeemed when
Lord William
Pray for thee
That we may
See the green
Sea that keeps
The haunt for
Tomorrow out
Of reach let
Our great gold
Bones be used
As flutes
For heavenly songs.

I once was fitted

I once was fitted
by what I wore
my booths shinning
my rank two fingers deep
I met my lover in the Army
where all enlisted are
brothers in the cause
don't ask don't tell
a secret we could not
afford I would
have given my life
if it came to that
for the American way
for you right to parade
against this war
I had my orders
shipped from Ft Leonard Wood
where I was trained to
take a life without
regret to numb myself
and pull the trigger
to hit my marksmen mark
in AIT and morning PT
in mess halls and platoons breast to backs
they got mines and I their
your left right your left right
Johnny got your gal and gone
sand my hair sand in mt booths
the sweaty helmet I ware, the gas
mask the deadly air
the fallen brothers
the cross on the grave markers
the tiny flags
we report for duty
we clean our M-16s
we shower together
as men, we smoke
our grass and pop our pills
then we sleep as not to kill
I have known killers been one myself
for we are soldiers
come to rescuer men
POW the black flag wave
we liberate
our brothers pinned down
we try not to be caught
in the cross fire but shit happens
we save our dicks that stands
at attention fore calmer days
we sleep in villages whenever we can
I got me an over-nighter
i hunt reconnaissance
from door to door
I seek the American's foe
who will do me harm
the medic is by my side
the generals far away behind the lines
we are the chess pieces
that they play the board is the killing fields
down the way
the gunners, the armor division
the leather necks and the grunts gun ho God given
grace bold forgiven
and when I have served my time
when I am a short timer
put my helmet over my booths
and let them stand in line
for rotation of being recalled to duty
I have but one regret
and this is it that
only the soldiers knows the toll, the cost paid
to blow a trumpet before the grave
a flag on our coffin
can not wave
the gun salute
only shoots holes into the sky
we brave soldiers we who
served and we die
we legless, we with sightless eyes
we who because of what
we see in war must fight
against out own minds
we brave who answered the call
we stand tall, we stand tall
for you all.

Marc Anthony

Marc Anthony
now that Jennifer Lopez
is in the wind I want to
'marry you but
I must tell you
of the scars of my dick,
my foreskin
I got it from my yobo
who got it from a fellow soldier
We was red bloody American's sons
I sold liquor and cigarettes and anything
American’s on the black market the
Korea women in their ceremonials robes
who worked at the PX didn't have
to robs it was all about loosening themselves
to the all mighty dollar they knew
what was up at the checkout counter
The little dark skinned boy with the Korea eyes
outside of the main gate
who sold clewing gum and patriots
and could get anything that you wanted
He was mama san's grandson
he lived in the orphanage with the other
displaced as discarded Eurasian child
The boy, the dark skinned boy
with African American blood
the Eurasian children are red bloody chorea’s children
with American's blood
One night I slept in the village
on a over-niter with Kim, my Yobo
and a fellow soldier in the next hooch
died of carbon monoxide
in his sleep, took
hold of the enternal dream
that is death. He is only
a red bloody American's boy
playing with wars of men's minds.
At the D M Z the North Korean
put their most musical
and taller soldiers on the front line.
While they dug tunnels under it
Kim the KUTSH introduced me to mama san
she got me a 20 s0mething boy
and we made love in my sleeping bag.
In the tent In the morning the boy
was gone back to the farm the Korea
children woke me and when I came
out in my underwear they who and odds
to see my bare skin dark all over.
They called me Ali Ali Washington D C.
They rubbed me up and down then looked at their hands.
I was out on maneuver policing the camp
finding roaches in the back of each tents.
We was red blooded American's boys
One asked “You been Washington D. C.” ?
Washington D. C., and Ali as American as
Johnny Apple Seed as Paul Bunyan as
Mr. green jean or the Jolly green giant
All red blooded American's sons.

The next morning

The next morning
was barely hung
on the full moonlight
the color of cum
the sky was sobbing
dead rain and the
flowers have all gone insane
there was a devastating
smile in the refection
of the rainbow and a
drunk hurt that cursed
the birth of strange
spirits trying to
touch the sky
O why do I suppose
that memories never
grow old their
indifference full
of the wonder of any
overgrown graveyards
they say that the junkies
who stands on the ledge
neglected the entrapment
well breed in the head
they say that the
ancestors are all dead
when no one call upon them
dead in the garden of my heart
and I disrespected
the funeral decorated
with nightmares
they say my face
is a hard murder
of romance that
recite the image
in the mirror
but it was not me
who tore apart
your willingness to be free
it was not me
who screamed
at the summer
over dressed as some
queen on the midnight
corner where men
cruse the dead semen
tainted with a deadly load
they say that ex-lovers
are landscapes waiting
to be pruned
from my memories
but it was not me
who painted over
all of your windows
so that none could see
the awakening of
your sexual needs
no it was not me
who lost my clarity
in a bucket of malevolent
thrown like stones
skipping across
your soul only to
be blown in the hugs
of willing arms.

The wind

The wind chased
him into my arms
when I saw his
reflection in my soup.
Suffering from the fever
of love he grinned
at my needs and wants
Patrick the Scotch drinker
Patrick who Davided
me into becoming Dravidian
He was all about
the moments the here and now
like some black angel
who added water
to his Scotch and
spoke of Baldwin as
the savor who walked
on the water of our
consciousness to be complete.
I saw him grow
soft on me, his
form of blushes
his black-ash colored
skin that he was
not a shade to hide in
to use as a shadow.
He was touched
by some meditation,
some fire, some
deep waters
something he
could be a metal
blossom, a mirror
a rainbow with
tattered edges.
He was a dark word
a shoot black fired
across the line
of our enemies.
It was plain to see
that he was
my axis, my atom
in need, many
times I climbed
his spirit without fear
of falling
because I had rested
within the edge
of his flesh.
To fuck is not to love
but the love of the fuck
is caused by the woodiness
of his pubis hairs
the darkest part of him.

Many are my thoughts

Many are my thoughts
dark my days and nights
I am not right
in the head
all said I brood
caution not to cry in public
I sink into my body
eyes agleam awakening
into this love
that rushes fluids
into me
I as window
as poet that you
can look though
I am many meanings
of blackness seen
on the bus sunk
down on the city's
street I the greener grass
on this side of town
I dark drown
hugging all darkness
all skin color
echoing nigh
I conspire to
win your heart
only if it is
willingly given
I am not right
in the head
I think that blacks
can save man

Man, man, my lover man

Man, man, my lover man
let my love stain your
nails, let my love
cling to your skin lik it’s
your clothing in the rain
man, man, my lover man
hold on firm
let the palm of your hand
let it touch all
secret spots and hard work
the hard fuck of our joints
in a sexual lust
man, man, my lover man
let my love be lost in your hair
and let it nudge in the warmth within
and of that spot
warm between the legs
let it be done in our bed
and when all is done
and all is said
let my love for you
live in this poem
as in the living head when
I am all done and dead of flesh.

They call me Mandingo

They call me Mandingo
but they know not what
it means,
They say you have a big Mandingo,
between four and fourteen, I youngster
have my genitalia
ritually cut
they never call
me the smoke king
I tame my unities
I tip my tongue
with pills and trill
runs in the water
there once was
a time that I was told
that I spoke white
but I was bold to use
my words as if I owned
the world dictionaries
then I heard Malindy sing
then I lost the wedding ring
that wedded me
a mere boy to the black church
a child groom because
of the slickness of my tongue
I fall like a leaf
I humbling raise
I cure the day that god
enslaved me. I am the music
that rants and rage
and make white’s blood
to dance on my grave.
I am the scared
fire unknown and tried
still I my flame thrives
with words I pile my mouth sweet
and make you weep
for a tease of taste
of my peace
word that hides my doubt
that such a thing as me
should know such a thing
as what it means
to be the likes
of this here me
I know no rest that I can take
no break but that that breaks
my black back
even my brothers of my kind
deride that I am able to shine
with such a grave that God
covers his dreaming eyes
as not to see that he is
heaven blind

The moon

The moon is
kicking itself
to see all the fun
had by you and me
still it will not give
up its place
it knows not that
it waste away
but this is a
good thing
the moon does
not dream nor eat nor sleep
\nor birth but dust
as a son the moon
is just because and
nothing more then holds
its place in the make
of things
it have no atmosphere,
it have no
rings of Rioting’s roar
what it holds
we do not
fully understand
sure we know why
it is round and
catches the light
of the midnight sun
we know that it
is stone and dust
and cares not
that we place our trust
in its sway of ocean
and our blood
sure we know that it
far above and circles round
just because gravity holds
it in its place and sure
everything wastes away
but what is sure
is subject to change
no one can count the grains
of rice and seeds and
sons of weeps every sweet
that cam and went
without a notice by man
and some have their Gods
to explain what is before
their eyes in nature’s way
the meaning of things
and why the flesh is weak as meat
man will always be man
and try to control
what resits him
in the custom house
down the way
the building is of stone
and heavenly in the way
its architecture sits
on the land and
justice is too blind
tyo understand
that what is just
can fade fast like
the stolen light
of the moon.
-

Smear green dollar's nickles

Smear green dollar's nickles
on your face
and white the wait
black hands that hesitates
in their throb
irresolution without anguish
sweat their hate
men tighten themselves they struggle
the noose of God and man
black men in the wrong
white men hand will fail
to be a full black man
thousands their black bodies in butt ends
and can spit out the juice of reason
men who sexual pause wins the prize
will cry the pain from my eyes
and men strong as bulls by and by
will loose the noose and set you free
men with the grit off their teeth
grind the rime and drink the juice
of what drips down the corner
of my lips and I piss into the wind
to let the yellow warmth in
and I ride the one who rode me
and we are one in two and
two in one of who we be
within the skin of our sexual meat
black men who give away their hands
for a bit of peace can not keep
the drops that weep themselves away
O say can you see the red white and blue
weaker then the green that nature gave you
O say can you say that by the way
a drop of rain cleans clears the make shift
hour of our dreams
O say can you wait till the flange flag wave
away the dead hour of all my cares
and I butter nobody's black man
as my slave of comfort, I need only
the sweet drips that drips away it's needs
and I am not the self same me that I know
O say can you peace away the wars
of man's discord and dream of a time
that once was a divine clock
ticking away the skin of time
O can you meet the face that you meet
in the castle darkness of who you be
and meet yourself on level ground
and go round the rim of a hour
gone insane because the day is wasting away
O say can you heap then weep out a piece of peace of
your time as a thing wrought from the Gods
the last divine man born to it
has died on the cross of time and his words
rides in the head of many
thought he himself wrote not a word
so wherefore was it said that he said is
only some other man's words changed
to fit outside of our prescient present time
never again born one divine with his
love of men on the outside
never again the dying sun runs up to you
and kiss your face with a heat icky hickey
ignite your desires as if a starter fire
of flung friends casted from the watery
surface of your eyes
man lives the lie that he is not divine
he is not one of the many
that populate popularize the flesh of nature
none is less holy then the ant
nor less as he can't rise above the fray
and be one known to himself
none is less then the bee no indeed
not you nor me or him that reads this
I am no saint but will get my wings
made of black bones trimmed to the T
when I am allowed to pour out the dawn
into your wakening throat
between the world and me the flesh is freakishly black
but firm and fit to kiss the empty kiss
of the charred knee that kneed that drains me
none take the time to pray on all four
to be closer to his God, none opens wide
the back door to score the seeds of God
trust no God that is a virgin still after all these years
and none who is not bisexual in his deeds
for such a thing is needed to come
to know both sides let not the women of your race
loose her place as the mother of man

-

Sit here my love

Sit here my love
and meditate
on the art of poetry
desire your feelings
as merciful things
unfulfilled is his reply
this figure of
middle aged love
beauty lives in his eyes
as fashionable things
I 'm perceptible round
the hours impressions
carved into my bones
combine the days
with the years
always none gone
I comb the hair
of my lover
indistinct as my lost
the lines in his face
are lames of memories
and time for all
it's forward movement
can not catch up
with itself
he leaves me fed
as a new beginning
he fulfills my
sexual needs
and our bed is soft
as plucked roses
hurrying toward
their birth
the rose's hips
are furtive
the bed is sensual
with delight
the separate love
and furtive and
holds no doubts
in a little while
the bed will fall
out of it's betrayal
the artiest in me
is a muse's slave
because I will not betray
the truth that I
have learned by the way
with vigorous verses
composed of the beginnings
I am a soothsayer
I am a love of bores
I am all of your beginnings
to ask what's the cause
I walk on somewhere
as if it's fires of coals
uneasily I go leaving
prints of poems in the snow
my fulfillment is what I gave
my mattress is a rose
for the imprint pg his
form that it holds
rose to the bee that blows
it's nose hurriedly the hour pass
speaking in a holy tongue
the words are able artiest
uttered as sensual love
tomorrow is no beginning
today never comes
vigorous my verse
will split your tongue
I am speaks with forks
of love time deviate
sensual delight
like my love
dark as night
as not to be seen
without light by the whites
separately the mattress cry
house in love with it's foundation
the bricks of which
I am composed
have holes, bubbles of air
that furtively wares away the dawn
the uneasy streets
betrays the streetlights
fads as fadding day
dress yourself separately
dress yourself as
some Demaratus
unbound, roll the
hill up the Boulder Colorado
of crouse I speak
rhetorically
none-the-less
or less-the-none
king Xerxes lost his son
and none, yes none
will be vindicated
as God’s lost son
the army of citizens
insults the public way
and the graves are
lonely both night and day
humble yourself
bride the Gods
shamelessly Aristotle
is no enemies nor
long lust intending
as some airborne
conversation over
heard by Porphyry
here is the great injustice
that man was ever born
shamelessly
the deprived darn dart
is the Sunday of the cause
bloody Sunday
bloody Monday
count all private
citizens as one
publicly the feast
with great zeal
Xerxes will not
kill the dawn
in the public square
the Christians getter
to conquer your soul
but be fore warned
of their boredom
they have no
moments of joy
without a thought
of their God.

What misfortune

What misfortune
verse the dead
what christian mourning
stalks the vestibule
what is kept from the truth
when strange pleasure
of verses to the adored
speaks in low voices
full of the night's dark
the last day of the Christ
is constantly on our lips
and supplications of Mary
combs the rooms
where the middle
age man\come too soon
and immodest boys
tugs at their tools
and the perfect sense
of rhythm is gold
to my silver to
what I hold
Mithridates tops
the hill with his man
and powerful cities
made of sand
dissolve in the rain
the bitten path
leaves you to
the soothsayer
who dwells in the future
when power is born
and the secret place
in my heart offers
no clarity of opinions
send in the offers
of my heart
send in the
sufficient of poetic art
understand the distinguished one
who shadowy run
expose the perils
of poetry and let
the ancestors be
content to lie in
their graves and
wait the wait of
man's coming downfall
King Mithridates
salutary as on
spears my fortune
with the pen
unexpected to be let in
let the noble companion
remembered the traces
of time as if only
time is divine
the vestibule wept
it's reunion out of joint
and excursions
plumb the perils
that wait the wait.
-

beautiful man
hr looks up
and smiles
-

when it comes
to love
autumn will leave you
then spring will
come for you
-

the nuisance
of his sleep
he is dreaming
hopefully of me
-

a dark man's face
holds the shine
of the sun
-

he asleep
beneath the tree
will not know
of my passing
-

I watched
the sparrows eating
and thought
he only loves me
with a full mouth-

fall's rain
fills the air
I walk
behind him
enjoying the view
-

a black man
in high winds
I wish they
were my hands
-

the dead leaves
rustle with wind
far off he is
calling to me
-

some men
are powerful
as the air
that can not
be seen
-

he looks like
a good lover
he turns away from me
-

I seeks a heart
just for the night
-

he is not
as chubby
as a buddha
still his beauty
will do
-

when he walks
down the alley
it is a spring
path to my heart
-

more beautiful men
have walk
through allies
then walked on water
-

beautiful full lips
are not
a dine a dozen
unless you only
count black men
-

each day that I
do not see him
is not in vain
the first snow
and other natural things
-

if he do not come
I am reminded
that I must also
wait for spring
-

I learned how to be
intimate with him
because nature
is intimate with me
-

the cardinals
and the robins
never eat the bread
I throw to the sparrows
it seems that
for that beautiful man
I need some new poems
-

Equally brain

Equally brain
beautiful brain
nervous state
day kisses kissed
and hug to want
beloved face
impeccable legs
and horse hair beard
beautiful
consummation of
lacking nothing real
desired and well bread
as any lover save the first
well bred as
any lover man
pseudo-beauty
drink and blunts
boredom with the fuck
that is me.

dark meat sex with me

dark meat sex with me
with your tongue and run
your dick head that helmet
of cum down my
metronome tar tarnished
tongue a musical run
a primaeval image
unfolding it's fold
between my legs
I am the shadowing of the
Zulu king dangling
priest like nacre
and ormolu and
rejections of the Gods
any holy sock of the soul
remember me in the
hollowness of your hearing
each poem is a
metaphorical dance
of wind's breath
and words spoken
through a glory hole
and words of hysteria of rhythm
a decor of rimes
each poem is a
cocaine remembrance
a ballad of troubled
generosity and a
grand design like cuss words
through teeth of gold
and old shoes leathery
wind wind swept toes
each poem is a token from
the soul a coonskin
Daedalas in love
with a juju man named
conjo juba jump jingle
go like a poem with
your weariness in toll
fly like drifting through
the Malinda wind
spread your arms
like legs made of
wings and sing, sing, sing your poems.
-

I live within

I live within the hollowness
of my soul I bold
death-headed rose
as violent as violent
as a winter rose ironic
and real and bestowal
of blessings of growing old
I once remembered me
gray as a queen of the fuck
each poem is a schizoid subterranean
a jubilee of banjos
and drums a weaving of
threads of time and
mazurka dolls with human eyes
each poem is a presence
you to hoo doo
that dance and rants the
real way of the flesh
of how to recognize
your ways of feeling
as one human and yet
divine as a thing
of God's own design
fly. Fly, fly like a kite
made of skin
catch the weary wind
waddle yourself in
rub your bones
against the tombstone
sharpen them to a point
and write the poem that
you was meant to write
as if it is the food of life
d it within your heart's end
thought your emotions
and win the key to the
coffin's gate lay like
licks of love any gardening will do
because of ways that you pray
old on and within
Sunday shouts hallelujah
to forgotten folks as sweet
as stale bullets and the
gun smoke is a diva
a planted poem to raise
in the comfort of your arms
plant the horses children
sharp as thorns
each poem is a recall
of shattered words
that escapes like
black birds from
the hollow of your head
each poem is bold each long since old
each poem is a bear back ride
of sexual possessions
a broker of spring
of growing broken things
green as money and
muscleman mosaic eyes
that cries god speed you
to your grave to meet
the maker of everything
god speed by and by
each poem sees like florist
the vivid children who circus our lives
and turn the super markets
into a zoo
go sue the dark side
with wrecked moments
and Mendelian and sweet
talk poems that can hush
and hustle the heart
warble your fancies
you who would
pillow the dawn with poems
the unrelenting sunflower
is like each poem like
quarrels between the thumbs
and clipped nails each
a crescent moon
the whipping struggle
is alive in our time
the unchristened racism
do not winter's it
Sunday in the church
christian Christ in a sob
i am for sure the son of gods
i am a thing that
knee grip man and i can
write the breath of God into a poem
knee grip man blows their
hate into children
who sucks on it as some sweet candy
charm is tinted by racism's labor
against the children of the child God
each poem wakes
the slanting angel
chronic in their lust
with their polished
austere poems writ
from Frederick of the Douglass liberty
beautiful one the
systole stolen from
and silver given to the poor
each poem is like brain matter
from which they come
great as dead blood
and dead rain and dead tears
and joys of dead fears
each poem is a vision
of the Gods speaking
in tongues
writ in bronze
runaround darkness lit by a last
lust lost in the lingerings
of the lustful suck
each poem stumbles pursing your heart
and your lost needs
each east by northeast
the younger shapes of thing to be
shapes of shackles at the feet
of that green lady who lights the sea
shackles gleams
in the sun lady bronze
your shadow blocks
the yearling ones
here for generations
long since born
freedom is no bonanza
but golden ring
welled in place is
the true nature of the thing
to you who are my subscribers
beware the tainted corn
by Monsanto the maze
is a whirlpool that seeks into
your genetic to enslave.
-

hide the full moon

hide the full moon
within the bright places
of your paediatrics’s
parry roller 's heart hush the
hustle of dead
folks like they are
watching tv of
which Whitman
never wrote
the stealer of your
Moses are stolen
like slaves shipped
down river dead or
alive is Ezekiel to
be paid and John
Brown's body is laced
with deliver me Jehovah
the leaves are scariest
still on the trees
in November
their dead toned voices
Malik the hood with hoots
calling of the dead to wake
in Mexico
and smuggle themselves north
over to freedom
as a blaze of grass
or strand of pubic hair
between the cheeks
of the ass
eternity never returns
repeatedly or otherwise
only epiphanies borrows
the sleep tossed
into their dreams by
tv still awake in the darkness
all of your undiscovered energies
are still an armor
half-roses half-knocking in rimes
it's angels never recognize the heat
spent in the dance of sex
it's truly OK the leukemic pistols
are only killing their own
Ms. Tucuman’s skin
jaybird its jungle of coins
last month the ghosts
was in town looking
like children with
mouths full of candy.

-

Antiochus the Epiphanes

Antiochus the Epiphanes
the beloved of the loved
the struggle of his heart
in the place of the
elegant place
set him apart
in Pygna the king
falls just for a moment
and all calls the
beating of the pulses
of Macedonians hopes
the lion horse is dead
the Tyrian coral lead
the brief moment
remembered what
was not said
Ammonius Saccas
is in the church
of curiosity
and the barbarous face
made of wretch glass
cracks its baptized ass
debauchery is something
that will always last
and the generous allowance
is falling fast
stop the ostentatious dawn
stop the selling of the sun
the dived gift
is the love of the piss
in ten beauty handsome faces
endowed with Sophist
and grace and perhaps
nevertheless the destiny
is broken on the bow
strung from cloud yo cloud
endowed just so
I appropriate your love tool
I school the fool
I laudably woo
the high-sounding remembrance
of who is who
o return my friend
to beauty and sane
endowed to play the cock game
I am the customer of my breath
I am the pagan at rest
I call on the best
idiot to my politic.
-

valiant Achean league

valiant Achean league
fear no deed indeed
Daos and Critolaos
wept for thee
marvelous praise
sways the day
into night's glory
Ptolem of Lathyrus
our nation shows
that there is writ
in banished gold
the seventh year foretold
in an old book
of the lost souls
of utter sensual love
fitting for sex
without the glove
this is an artist’s evident
easily understood
this is the chestnut eyes
deep in colors of wine
offer your beloved body
to the shameless man of the moon
with moon eyes
he comes like youth
ideal lips licks and suck
limbs for bed
and the ready fuck
morally I have no shame
painting him with words
was destined to raise
the cock sky high
with wet praise
he fresh from
the funeral of our friend
he King of Commagene
epitaph told with
weeping voice
sojourned the journey
of the soul
disconsolate as if
the scholarly Antiochus
was laid to rest
in a coffin of gold
venerable in his young age
taken by A I Ds
no worthy glory there
humanity's lost
courageous laid to rest
such a nobly quality
to his death.
-

Gladly I approach

Gladly I approach
with praises on
my tongue of he
the loved one
benevolent in body
suggested in his walk
Callistratus reborn
I have not a doubt
mild and meek
descended from the Greeks
hospitality in his talk
the sway of provident
in the sway of his hips
the quality of his lips
to kiss and suck
no Julian's indifference
in the pounding of his fuck
a high priest of manly love
exhorting and gushing
and positive spin
he is fond of his
love of men
consider this
his nurtured friend
a conception of
performance in his love
nothing excess nothing lost
women of Greek
did talk when he
left my bedroom
still smelling of his
body's perfume
I was always able
to please him sweet
and toward the grave
maim of God did
we seek last I seen
he organized his cloths
and rose to meet
religion for he be bold.
-

Esteemed citizens

Esteemed citizens
dark-clad of skin
verse of pleasure
of love of men
I compose this for you
agreeable handsomeness
like some childhood tune
I hear the bells of birds
chattering sweetly
I measure the pleasure
of his meat and
lay my head down
to sleep my sleep.
-

beloved, completely

beloved, completely
do I adore
the embrace
of yielding to
your given love
lips like other
are stigmatized
against mine
and I have no
shame in my desires
of imagination
divine completely
given is what I give
sensual delight
to mount the coming years.
-

Fulfill my deviate delights

Fulfill my deviate delights
sensual as is so right
hurriedly speak of love
uneasy the furtive lust
linger long and
gains its vigorous
as we sleep away
the peace of being suspect
artists compose
the mattress as a rose
the thing is still
the thing by any other name
meditate on what is brought
what distinct mommies
have taught combine
our passions into one
perceptibly we
round the night
fashion half seen
our feeling into desires
let me not be unfulfilled
sometimes it hurt
to say I am yours
you are mine
remember the lines
of my face there
is a map of memories there.
-

completely in despair

completely in despair
I spare my lips
the hurt of your kiss
embrace my wanted desires
there is still time
time's sensual delight
is stigmatized in the light
this is the Wednesday
morning that I give to you
what have you got to loose
but deletions of flying away
my imagination is your to have
for I seek your lips
and tune your kiss
seeking not to miss
completely the risk
of what love can do.
-

beloved man

beloved man
yes I can
loose my lost
sensual delight
sing with me
come onto the stage
in the theater where
our love plays
out the acts
of chattering morality
handsomeness is as
handsome men do
do you find me
agreeable of my
tongue's language
do you see beyond
my skin of verses
of my pleasures
daring be mine
like some candy heart
at valentine time
I am a choice
cut of meat
a citizen of loving men
I agreeable as is the sea
that birth me
within my mother's womb
to me you are esteemed
as one who I should love
just because your
beauty moves my loins
I touch you and I catch fire
I ride like riding the waves
upon which is played
no rebuses of rejections
I and Pink Floyd are
wishing that you was here
to strawberries my letter 22
and do me pleasure
clandestinely I sought
you out of your hole
you holding on tight
as white on rice
as black on walnut
as if Eric Clapton
is the forever man
you esteemed man of my heart
how many times
must I say I love you
when the stage is played
in the theater of the grave
the theater of Sidon
400 A. D. three and three
you to me want you
be my all over man
rebel man rebel man
shall I all over you
with love with
leading love like
God's in the house of sex
or lord's going down
on the crown head
little Feat got nothing
on me I am innocent
of being a Dixie chicken
this is so true of
both me and you here
in dark-town St. Louis
here completely undone
embrace the cold
of the setting sun
once I was lost in time
now with you
divinely at my side
sick sensual desires
are slick as ice
of love's have not
drip and rip to drop
there is an antiquity
in the miracles of your eyes
and I a sensual pagan
of desires
the temple is ready
for worship the
enthusiasms of the crowded
theories of Maximus
someday will fall
over heard frequent
conversations falls
from the wall the
manifested greatness
is none to clever at all
here is my uneasy
result, here is mine
church of Nicoinedeia
reverence is forsaken
and the piety of
Christians are never
admired without pity
the corn hog is rooting
in the wise soil
of the soul and uneasy
I go by Scriptures
never before told
who ride upon the back
of the church, who
in uproar reeds
who the pagan praise
the Greeks and still
have no God to meet.
-

Love's certainty

Love's certainty
lives in a distant place
circumstances separate
the wen from the wane
grieve deeply if you can
desires circumstances
considerable as a man
perhaps destiny
is but a dance
that fads forever
into a certain happenstance
perhaps attraction
is obliged to beckon
you in and win for you a mate.
-

I have a rhetorical tongue

I have a rhetorical tongue
I vindicate the young
I oracle of none
deprive the sun
of submittable love
I love no boy and
want none, I am
shameless just because
you decided to love me
shall I woo you
with my suggested hands?
Shall you bride my
tongue for a poem?
Shall we love as men
content to lay lazily
all undone and
as humble as a pillow
with its dent of your head?
Our enemies are
at last dead of their
private publicity
and publicly we
walk hand in hand
resignation has no
meaning when all
is said we humiliate
none and none Persian
the rug, we are intriguers
of love's last stand
we are men in love with men
the anxiety that hides the night
fright the child but
I act upon the conquer
and give the finger to the moon
explaining that no true
lover who is true will
come too soon
there is a child of chills in the wind
as it should be in mid November
and the wind swept leaves
are auguring in the streets
a kind-a dance rhetorically.
-

For the feel of joy

For the feel of joy
the peaks of it to reach
the victorious love
of the faces that we meet
in dim bars and
hidden back rooms
and manicured parks
the plain faces of boys
who calls to joy
here is my love
here is my life
here is the right to love
and the right to fight
no shame touches us
no suggested conversations
unheard
to many cares
of the many words
moments of words
is mine to give
give what you feel
is our only right
in an army of men
at the humble feast
the table is set
for men to meet.
-

If Heracles

If Heracles
is an elegant taste
if memories plays
at taking its place
if age guide young men
toward an ancient grace
out the center is the
center of the place
the amorous water rung
the handsome face
the noble face
the purest is always
difficult to take
the plain is on
an elegant taste
the man I love is full of grace
I love a mighty prayer
and I plunge my hands
where the silver lay
and mighty my face
as best as I can
O hear the silver bells
calling all to grace
the set is set at
the table of our race
this elegant flower
of a man, this
excellent that waits
on the closing hour
where love is made.
-

I beg to differ

I beg to differ
that age is a wound
no such hideous knife
can cut so deep
the art of poetry
is no such drug
to dull and numb
the suffering of the
imagination and words
fetch all that you are
unaware of growing old
with grace
as if rightly should be
pine not for spent youth
do not dig into the wounds
the edge is sharp this is true
endurance is not for youth
my refuge is clear
my gray hairs are here
my growing old
is a step forward.
-

Ostentatiously

Ostentatiously
the Christians
are baptized
in the grave
the holy water
can not wash away
the stains of the minds
the wretchedness
of their abandoned God
generous will the sins
of his lords
O such a horrible thing
the customers are
generous with their
allowance is a corrupter
house without and within
these word I give
by the poet's tongue
none is the parent
and none regards
the traditions of things
to come high-sounding
is my tune higher
then me and spiritual peace
is no similar thing to teach
remember my words
and this matter strong
some will say
that I do Christians wrong
the divine gift
will not lead you wrong
when the house of the church
is some secret den
wherein boys
are molested by men
then God have fallen
from his high place
and the wretches guards the gate
idiots of the sinful church
barbarous is your hate
baptize none with your
debaucheries Christians
where is your once
handsome face?
Why regard you rarely
the whole human race?
My life endures the
slings and arrows
and bullets to booth
of your traditional
philosophers who
in the name of our God
yes yours and mine
the saving of all souls
is ostentatiously declined.
-

But nonetheless

But nonetheless
he said when he spoke
your God is but a ghost
a secret host
and as such so it be
the sorry wretches
comes of hats
and suits and ties
their ears still
ringing with the holy lie
ten years now since
last my beauty fled
and with it it took
all of my curiosities
no longer am I
a customer of the truth
for it have forsaken me
when last fled my youth
for a body still fit
full of youth
regard this as my last stand
as no plead to relive
the life given me
for I was baptized
in poetry and can
no longer see through
the rose colored lens
of my parents the Christians
meantime my mind
was already gone
toward the divine gift
of a handsome face
and the horrible lies
of the Christian race
when the dance is
more generous
then your God
when so much
sinning you are allowed
when nonetheless will not stand
and beauty is a philosopher
in the banker's hands
and the church is
but a secret den
and the official baptize
is done in blood
man will sin just because.
-

I saw him in the dark

I saw him in the dark
walking in the shadows
of the shadows of tress
his shadow looked like
a lap dog the kind
that I have never seen.
walking in the shadows
of the shadows of tress
his shadow looked like
a lap dog the kind
that I have never seen.
-

What misfortune

What misfortune
verse the dead
what Christian mourning
stalks the vestibule
what is kept from the truth
when strangle pleasure
of verses to the adored
speaks in low voices
full of the night's darkness
the last day of Christ
is constantly on my lips
and supplications of Marry
combs the room
where the middle aged man
comes too soon
and immodest boys
tags at their tools
and the perfect sense
of rhythm is golden
to my silver to
what I hold
Mithridates tops
the hill with his man
and powerful cities
made of sand
devolve in the rain
and resolve the beaten path
leads you to the soothsayers
who dwells in the future
when power is born
and the secret place
in my heart offers
no clarity of opinion
send in the offers
of my heart
send in the sufficient
of poetic art
understand the
distinguished one
who shadowy runs
expose the perils
of poetry and let
the ancestors be
content to lie in
their graves and
wait the wait of
man';s coming down fall
King Mithridates
salutary as on
the pin of a pricking
spear my fortune
with the pen unexpected
to be let in
let the noble companion
remember the traces
of time as if only
time is divine
the vestibule weeps
its remains of reunion
out of joint and excursions
pumps the perils
that waits the wait.
-

Here my love

Here my love
the day breaks open
just because
it has done
it before.
-

Flippant Byzantine

Flippant Byzantine
flippant serious matter
diligently I cuss
the God that did
not give me head
be you familiar with
your God in a sexual way
be you lustful
before the grave
the Syhvaliant Achaean League
fear no deed indeed
Daos and Critolaos
weep for thee
marvelous praise
sways the day
into night's glory
Ptolem of Lathyrus
out nation shows
that there is writ
in banish gold
the seventh year foretold
in an old book of poetry
of utter sensual love
fitting for sex
without the glove
this is my artsiest evident
theses poems
easily understood
this is the chestnut eyes
deep in colors of wine
offer your beloved body
to the shameless man
of the moon
will moon eye you
he comes like youth
ideal lips licks and suck
limbs foreboded
and ready to fuck
morally I have no shame
painting him with words
was destined to raise
the cock shy high
with wet praises
he fresh from the farm
from the funeral of corn
our lost friend
he King of Commagene
epitaph told with weeping voice
sojourned the journey
of the soul
disconsolate as if
the scholarly, Antiochus
was laid to rest
venerable in his growing
young age
taken by Aids
no worthily glory there
humanity's lost
courageous laid to rest
such a noble guilty
to his death.
-

Gladly I approach

Gladly I approach
with praises on
my tongue of he
the loved one
benevolent body
suggested in his walk
Callistratus reborn
I have not a doubt
mild and meek
descended from the Greeks
hospitality in his talk
the sway pf provident
in his hips
the quality of his lips
to kiss and suck
no Julian's indifference
in his gracious fuck
a hijack priest
of manly love
exhorting and guiding
and positive spin
he is found of his
love of men consider this
his nurtured friends
a conception of performance
in his love
nothing excess nothing lost
O how the old women
of Greece did talk from their windows
of the passing day where
from building to building
across the street is laundries strung
they talk when he leaves my bedroom
it still smelling of his
body's perfume
I was always able
to please him sweet
and toward the grave
mien of God did
we seek last I seen
he organized his clothes
and rose to meet
religion for he be bold.
-

Esteemed citizens

Esteemed citizens
dark-clad of skin
verse of pleasure
of love of men
I compose
this for you
agreeable handsomeness
like some childhood tune
I hear the birds
chattering sweet
I measure the pleasure
of his meat and
lay my head down
to sleep my sleep.
-

Beloved, completely

Beloved, completely
do I adore
the embrace
of yielding to
your given love
kips of others
are stigmatized
against mine
and I have no
shame of imagination
divine completely
given is what I give
sensual delight
as light as light to mount
the years.
-

Fulfill my deviate delight

Fulfill my deviate delight
sensual as is so night
hurriedly speak of my love
uneasy the furtive last
lingers long and
gains its vigorous
as we sleep away
the peace of suspect
artiest compose
the mattress as a rose
the thing is still
the thing by any other name
meditate on what is brought
what distinct memories
gave taught, combine
our passion into one
perceptible we
round the night
fashion half seen
as a feeling seed of our love
seed our feelings into desires
let me not be unfulfilled
sometimes it hurts
to say I am yours
you are mine
remember the lines
of my face there
is a map of memories there.
-

completely in despair

completely in despair
I spare my lips
the hurt of your kiss
embrace my wanted desires
there is still time
time's sensual delight
is stigmatized in light
this is the Wednesday
morning that I give to you
what have you got to loose
but delusions of flying away
my imagination is your to have
for I seek your kiss
seeking not to miss
seeking is mine says the lord
not to completely miss the risk
of what love can do to me and you.
-

Beloved man

Beloved man
yes I can
loose my lost
sensual delight
sing with me
come onto the stage
in the theater where
our love plays
out the acts
of chattering morality
handsomeness is as
handsome men do
do you find me
agreeable of my tongue's language
do you see beyond
my skin and the verses
of my pleasure
darling be mine
like some candy heart
at Valentine
I am a choose
cut of meat
a citizen of loving men
I agreeable as is the sea
that birthed me
within my mother's womb
to me are esteemed
as one who I should love
just because your
beauty moves my loin
I touch you and catch fire
I ride like riding the wave
upon which is played
no refutes of rejections
I and Pink Floyd are
wishing that you was here
to strawberry letter 22
and do me pleasure
clandestinely I sought
you out of your hole
you holding on tight
as white on rice
as black as walnuts
as if Eric Clapton
is the forever men
you finessing man
of my hearty heart
how many times
must I say I love you
when the stage is played
in the theater of Sidon
400 A D three to three
you to me want you
be my all over man
rebel man rebel man
shall I all over you
with love with
leading love like
Gods in the house of sex
or lords going down
on the crown head
little Feat got nothing
on me I am innocent
of being a Dixie chicken
this is so true of
both me and you here
in dark town St. Louis
here completely undone
embrace the cold
of the setting sun
once I was lost in time
now with you
divinely at my side
sick sensual designers
are slick as ice of
love's have not
drip and drip to drop
there is an antiquity
in the miracles of your eyes
and I am a sensual pagan
of full flesh designer
the temple is ready
for the worship the
enthusiasms of the crowd
the theories of Maximus
someday will fall
overheard frequent
conversations falls
from the wall the
manifested greatness
is none to clever at all
here is my uneasy
result, here mine
church of Nicóimedeia
reverence is forsaken
and the piety of
Christians are never
admired without pity
the corn hog is rooting
in the wise soil
of the soul and uneasy
I go by scriptures
never before told
who rides upon the back
of the church, who
in uproar reeds
who the pagan please
the greeks and still
have no God to meet.
-

be valiant who fought

be valiant who fought
full not for glory
blameless is the cost
of all things holy
boast your might
and our nation strives
piss eyed into the wind
when you cry
turn, turn your back
on the holy lie
and catch the tears
that I cry
valiant, marvelous as one
who loves the fuck
of brother's cum
it is writ in water
that such men as I
turn tail not to victory
when the victorious is done
hear my words and hark my deeds
the grave at last is at peace
Daos and Critolaos
fear not the weak
and weak no lost love
to keep their peace
the fall of leaves
is windy as spring
and Achaean is dressed
for Lathyrus to meet
the meat of love
is roasting on the spit
the seventh year
is dying still
turn your fought
into the wind
and hear the fall
of glory falling still
valiant men who
loves the men
they will say of you
that your love sin
but boast against
all their lies
and be a man
willing to die.
-

In despair

In despair
I cast the
leaves from myself
like years dying
without a cure
lost forever
I wanted to save
the night from
the approach of day
the summer from
the delusion of spring
the stigma stigmatized
sounds of the storms
that rings the globe
completely am I a son
seeking lips' fold of gold
completely wanted
by only the no ones
sensual delight is
fading fast
only time has
time to last.
-

Dig deep into my heart

Dig deep into my heart
seek you the folds of my lips
never be and never be
the wanting saving of me
love lost linger and lost love
sways night's sweet darkness
into the bilker’s day
the die is cast
the cold unfolds
the leaves dead in color
are growing on still
on the tree still they holds
such is me such foretold
the wind is lost
in the cities now
the doubt is the cost
of the shame you save
the ring around the rosy
has no end it spiral where it lay
where it begins and ends.
-

The skin of my

The skin of my
life's journey
will be forgot
by me first
and you last
time sucks
the sand
from the glass
time is a crank
of tiny villages
no suburbs true
only the finest
olive oil smooths
time scent
the leaves of the trees
with rusty colors
too real as not
to be believe
time leaves
but leave nothing
undone, time
has a son called God
the crowd jostles
to be let into heaven
and set at the feet
of the victorious palace
where God ace
his ace-boo-coo
and knock about
the angels until
they are befuddle
they love it that-a way
they hurls
gigantic madness
in between the inbreeding
of the night and the day
the streets are crying
for fresh soil of concrete
the parade amble
down the sleeping street
the music of medley
is rolling on the tree
pull me into you
let me slip in
give me shatter
I have frankincense
and gum stolen
from the manger
of a new born son
of the later day shopping
center the clouds are
sawing at the sky
and chicken little
refuse to die
little boy blue
sings the blues
with a red slay
he scent his hair
with the scent
of Antony of Greece
who wear a village
in his lapel.
-

I am lenient

I am lenient
I am annihilated
as one of the who
who hold the pen
I am Constantinople
of the triumph men
esteemed with words
I beg you to let in
my preparations absurd
yes this is true
but those around you
are up and at it
to no good good
hear me writing
the clicks of my keys
is a rhythm of the beat
of the dance of my finger
hear me writing the truth
as it is seldom seen of
goat hair wine-wasp and
bony thin branches of wings
the mind fly come
roll with me
then gigantic and the feet a toe
are sweet in stew
and rein lock in your youth
to little we poets we
do not let words
set you free
the gab-hogs and hog-get-tot-ree
are swimming in the poo pad
of all our use to bes
hear me say
I love you u da u b
I drop of l all the yous and your
of your wordy souls is
still unwritten but some day
will be set not in stone
if you do not poem
your way through the trees
where little
mart Riot if Window lane
is cooking up a mess of
snot noise in brine and pee
frank are my words
on the tip of my tongue
bill are my thoughts
of the day to come
only idiots live
within the poem
skinny things with lost birth
save for day maybe hour
once born they lay like
frozen flowers
waiting for you to break
them in a thousand
and that Shaky baby
or shakeabilly will
his rimes is the dying words
of always dying time
the poet are reeling
in the sun with the
moon as a fish line
and all are dying
just because there
is nothing else to do
let the poets woo
let them take and give
let them feel the feel
of you coming in
do not let the priest ride
beyond a little tune
played on the tree bark
do not give them
a perfect pitch
do not give them
you only soulful heart
for they in their ways
are all up to no good
at lease not something
as high as heaven
smooth me with ink
from my pen let the
symbols in within
let the Jon of DE Arc
free the slaves
who are chained
still chained to the graves
as if heaven is in the doorway
to wherein the kin
of men are hustlers
waiting to be paid
Jesus Christ, Christ!
me true and take away
the last perhaps of my youth
i am as old as man made sin
i am bold as prostration
before the bleeding heart
I am torn apart by my pen
that turns on me
and make me speak things
that have set heaven and all its host
against me with mocking words
within me the angels
are having a party
within the because
of what i do do i sleep
like living off of your youth
O hear the bells that tells
the time in sounds round and clear
as falling rime in the ear
I am Lazaro come from the dead
I whisper into the ear of Satan
because God told me to do
I slit open youth to find the young
I am my own happy moment
of no one
promises and imbecilities
are still good waiting
to be spent on man's misfortune
and nobble men are knocking on the door
at the last moment the bishop succeeds
to write on the bible with his dick
or a prayer in piss
and sucks the sucking
of the choir boy boy's prick
hear my words hear them clear
as bells of balls and tall
talk of they have
not the power to
clean the sinful lips.
-

The shear flesh

The shear flesh
was still breading its bleed
and the afternoon
is running red
pass my lips
is beauty's shame
I took a leak into
every ideal flesh
hark the heal
hurled into my pocket
the angels sings
glory to the new born thing
that man can make
of his reality
little shared save for zoos
they there we here
little survive he in mine
rats and racoons
possum and homeless cats
sleeping crows and black birds
sparrow and barn owls
bees and all nature's matter
of things that be
in and of earth the mother
strong that will
do man some powerfully wrongs
killing and a killing
kicking the can
clean kill is the
marksmanship of man
the poet is 58 last
he touched the keys
the derisive dawn
has a heavenly ring
and I piss on
my sheer love of man
he come and he came again
the afternoon is
a historian of sins
he laid and laid the rot
he tired the night
into twenty-none knots
the sofa sits by the window
dreaming that someday
she will be a couch
queen Ann fine legs
east lake clutter of trim
fit for a black man
and who this
black be who is he
hark the Harlan angels sing
God of birthed
by the black man's king
I can barely forget to forget
something that itches me
I have passed on love
like giving head in bed
of lit candles
glow of flesh and mercy mild
God had birth
the black man's child
poets slip things in
into tight holes
and cramp corners of rats
like that what I pass
with this poem
is time not a clock
no such artificial as all that
I ware no watch
to measure the passing
of my life
need none other then
the sun the stars in
monotonous colored’s dark sky
in St. Louis the night is gray
the darkness is all gone
miles away man made
children grow
with no wonder of seeing
all the stars no field trip to
but open a Mall
and the yellow buses are there
where is the last Lord
where the birth in the shopping cart
in the park do the
babe be this lost and unwanted
he or she this brother or sister
to hasty how now the blue cow can cane the come
and lay me down
my golden crown for I
am Ricky McGee so say me
poets openly say of me
he was a poet as
Greyhark said
worthy to ware the black betray
read in the eminent
and you will be set free
the ideal Flesh of Jesus
shoulder a tree or river
as muddied ad the Mississippi
Jesus is as handsome as figure
tied in a beauty knot
of we being unable
to live in the past
and we who willfully by
blind fate follow to the grave
the entire devotion of who we be
is long lost to even me
the ideal hour
approaches fast
even time
forgets to last
sheer earth
have no conscious
and without it
consciousness birth no son
the afternoon is undone
lived out to it's last imminent
the lips plays the fiddle
it the passing of the wine
times for a blunt to rest
this poetry driving mind
the passing of the wine
is split from the vine
time is a most percussionist
killer yet none
can kill time.
-

Rick James

Rick James
was the first
black-white man
I ever heard of
or was it Shy Stone
of Billy Preston
pressing the Beatles into
the grove
never in the flesh I
ever knew but once
had a talk with
Jim Brown buying
disposable shaving razors
in a Denver Woolworth
once talked with
Baldwin at a book signing
and Walter Cronkite
at a church father and son
dinner my dad never there
big mama’s brother
uncle locust took me
Rick James had the funk in him
he was freaky
in many ways
free basing his needle name maybe
my main man, my might
free basting the grayness
of a city's night
the clouds assiduous assault the sky
the power lines are running
out of time, crows gather
and struck their stuff
and shits into the river
of our rushing
lust lusty in me
as Whitman in St. Louis
to visit his brother
who lives down the way
and the son of the adding
machines writes here
in the dirt with a tree stick
trunk rules my rotting tongue
just to say here lies Dave the don king
the freaky labor
of all his days.
-

Youth is ablaze

Youth is ablaze
with being young
its amusement into
the name of creamy cum
into its activity
what is won, the birth
of a daughter
or son, ask me
who is he
this vulgar construct
of watery day
detestable in his needs
to deceive the deceiver
the day is in training
to be your own tomorrow
the statue is ivory and
gold the tumble of the tremble
are full of holy holes
and propel conduct is no more
little however it be so
the talking tongue
are salts of sores
the knavish lad
bend forward his back
in loving motion the
prick attacks
it is not enough
the poet's word
to run around the words that run
already the day is baked in clay
already the young waits
on another slacken but of fun
that desires the flesh of the young
love torn my lorn ablaze the night
and beautiful black men
fills all me sight limited
by the city's grayness of night
the city waits for
the amusements of night
and darkness flings itself
into the business end of day
the general employee
have not been paid
mankind can not do without
his slaves, sexual or of the soul
he dash his wreckage of words
he dash his work of words
into every hole
such a sin have it always been
never one to sin no more
the moon is still gray
monotonous and some did
will fall but not tonight
as you bed your dreams
for the desires of the flesh
isn't always clean
voluptuousness I find
in your name
figure your lust with
my sexual guns
possesses is the last
lustful way that beautiful
blacks men knows hot to play.
-

I have seen him

I have seen him
regularly in the tavern
slipping his run and coke
entirely unknown
to who I be slowly
I do approach
manly figure is he
suspicious is his
manly needs
I understood precisely
he that gave no change
to any black man such as me
and still I approach on
to his side where
on the bar he rest his arm
a steel gray a pleasing smile
that pleasure my ends
dark curry hair
as wild as I desire it
I ask, is it lust
that slick your mind
is it union that I desire
naturally I am
not of your kind
and you insignificance
is plainly known
that black man
have the oldest soul?
I suffer no flesh
no persistent desires
to touch me is to
set yourself afire
I am the first Adam
to an Adam born
I am the union
between the moon and the sun
I betray no God and then
I am still only a man
entrance into my world
is but an understood thing
before you sat your denial
sit and enter me
as if you wish
to entertain the ideal
that I will not go about
exposing your disastrous
scandals that you keep
just below the something
of your dreams
three weeks did I woo
and not a kiss did he spare
still I suffer not
his own weariness
until the time I last saw him
I did not look to see
if he was still sick
with lust and longing
for a black man to fuck
beware of he who quickly
expose his indifference
by way of the entrance
made by words
still comes the night
of bar fights
and dark drunk men
made by the poetic word
that I woo to get in
the night regularly without a fight.
-

The amateur

The amateur
is still true
the finished painting
done by a youth
his details is loose
he wares a wet lie
of lives his open collar
a gate =way to
the forest of his bare chest
the temple of his beauty
his hair mannered
completely wild
with waves
study the lines
of my face
right temple dent
the face like dimples
of the strongest race
his lips like lanes
leading to yesterday
paint him in gray
rose color his face
his chest invites
his shirt ironed
his neck like a
thumb of a still
living tree
entirely the perfect
years fall's leaves
itself away
the picture is done
and his heart sways away.
-

Retort my religion lust

Retort my religion lust
concerning my beliefs
that god is a she
understand the
empty-headed Julian of Greece
clever man that will not
condemn the ludicrous man
who in his religious way
will not wait
till kingdom come
such men have won
the understood
condemnation of any son
go I yes go
annihilate the sun
that is the weight of
the motion of all that
you have won the booties
of wars the friend's benefit
of the kill you read into it
as a under-christian
like under-cover brothers
in fro and dashiki
and ludicrous love
sent from above
mined from below
the annihilation is cold
as day old gold
now concerning you
religion beliefs or your God
or Hermeteles or me
sleep a short while
notice often the swell
and ideal love is
grief-grief-stricken
with lust receive
the epitaph
your cousin in love
the last days are
spited into my color
and we grow together
we deeply grieve
we resentment of
all that is weak
of souls entirely
I have stolen
from Mary Lou
that Mary of God
Aristodemes is cold
as a satiated snow
the end is near
and during our last days
of the first that waits within
a poet once told me with
his red weepings of green and yellow
buying the market place
on a dine of doing time
as a man within his skin
and I O yes I
the bully bull of a boy
did drop my draw and let it in
he told me with hoe dead eyes
that destine is a traitor
and teller of lies
he told me that
I world rise down round the west end
and find my south just north
of the border and that I
will cover with words
the sky and that my
friend the painter
Steve will paint
satisfying as I feigning of spites
and perhaps under weed my love of him
and all men of human's's make
Cimon my cousin kin
grief-stricken to his
soul's gate waits
by the grave stone no bigger
then a apple skipped a
cross the river of graves
he waits the return of sensitive
resentment grow, yes grow
together deeply grow with
all images between thee
grow like sorrow close
to the end grow, yes grow
into an imagined man
see now the taken
henceforth malnourished
and excuse and wild
hair never the same
receive me receive
this poem as if it is
all through one.
-

Wanted

Wanted
a Cimon
a handsome man
a sensitive longing
a king Clemenes
in Spartan
a demurred man
me single Settian man
6'2 170#
willing to try
all but crime
against the soul
will the store
and to before
my time die
you Egypt
guarantee of
being black
strong of thighs
and upper back
with your mouth
full of rumors
and hands full
of doubts
you laughed at
but certainty
and able to
indifferent
the Spartan;s pride
all that I request
is that you be
who you are with your skin
illustrious as a
Spartan king.

Remember

Remember
the battle at
Actium of Sam
that liberated
the Romans
of Antony's ruinous
Caesar of Cum
the conqueror
are glorious
the Milyrapest military
enterprise is
beautiful with
political exploits.
-

let me build

let me build
within your heart
a bridge never
torn apart
step up into my heart
I wait for you
to do as you do
to love me true
we the two who woo.
-

I'll be your

I'll be your
lady in love tonight
if you want me to
I'll be all for you
the one is so hard to find
one and one will always be two
as our love is true
make your love to my mind
and our bodies will follow
no other need bother
they don't have a clue
about me and you
I'll be your lady in love tonight
if you want me to
it's all up to you
stand by my side
in light and in darkness
I will witness that it is you
the one true lover
and how you do.
-

Kleitos found

Kleitos found
morally sympathetic
exhausted with
love making of his man
critically he woos
the servant who
raised him when
he took the boy in
Kleitos trembles
within his youth
his terrible anxiety
is that he love to deeply
that he worship the turning
of all Christians one by one
they fall from the cross
and stigmata bleed with the mind
of an idiot with pancake eyes
secretly he loves
like living on the edge
kleitos is to sympathetic toward
youths he have found in Greece
in that learning all of which
he exhausted like Padma
on leave to his holy land
Kleitos met a young actor
in an Oneal play
the fever that decimated
his loving ways told him not to
trust anything straggle or
sweeter then pure honey
illustrious in his make.
-

Aged servant

Aged servant
aged angel
on his last wing
critically ill with
the sickness of man
B.B .King has lost his thrill
a learning upbringing
a found excellence
exhaustion lift in his will
the idiot child is blessed
by the bite that bites down
but does not kill
parental parent compassion to give
worship of man by angel
will in the end kill one or the other
worship the anxiety
that old actors play
the true life to live this way
old mark Mack
is dressed in gray-black
like the lack of darkness
in the city of the graves
she jumped the fence
for $52.00 of scent
she jumped so high that
she reached the upper room
in the sky and she found out
that only lost angels do not cry
she jumped so high into the sky
that she needed an old fashion angel's cry
that she never came back
till the 16th of July
care to carve my cares for me
cure my ills to foresee
that the servants of God's grief
is an Augus gull of old men wild
who mercy away their short lives.

-

Wallow me wrung

Wallow me wrung
to brothels or tavern
Tamides left me in the lurch
right me epochal to acquired
all my debaucheries are stored
in the church smelling of
fragrance
it is what I possess
abjectly the Nile
is always wet
as the desert advance
Alexandria's son is shabby
with wants constant beauty
remains the fleshy
part of who he be
beauty is full of two years
and marvelous men in between
the fragrance and the fish.
If all our days
instantly the hour
approaches handsome
of face with his spinets
introverts sixty pounds in a
gambling house where
unexpected to loose
is no good news
the honorable household
is depraved with out
of heart power and expensive
thinking that it is at all
that four )'clock the grave is given
and bedrooms full of marvelous men
spend their smokes of their cigarettes
in rings of troublesome thoughts
that hallo the heads
of giving head and getting wed in bed
mechanically the lungs takes in smoothly
are all over our breath
newspaper cafe are full of empty eyes
and presently it is since ten thirty-five
the entire reading drinks plenty when
the slightest doubt is a handicap
of hardship blessing let it
investigate let it inquire
to reform immediately the
radicals storms the blessings
put up to block the way
perhaps today we wait
perhaps the needed ones will
be needed
perhaps the request will be granted
or grand guilds bent their backs
and shot the hole through
possession trimmed and tanned
rightful and minuteman
we defined the carrying out
of ourselves we one still in
our demands ingenuity surgical to do
is excesses of top seeking
this is true and as so
as hard as a surprise
by love and when
and then and this and that
other then the precisely\propose the sacrifices of the souls
of the last investigation
into the everything whole.
-

the woman who is a man's man

2011-12-11T14:14:00.001-08:00

the woman who is a man's man
the sand that pin pricks my soul
I the bold boy
of long ago the the
bully boy of men soul
the haunted day
upon earth the rose
growing before the door
and will not let me in to pass
the outer lynching
of my suspense
I the judgment of death
the hours that comes
for you is already spent
my tortured body
tortured by spring
is vengeance
hideously full of holes
I have spent my life
on the point of a pin
and still the Gods that be
will not let their blood in
I the judgment of life
have spent my life
on the shore
where the shroud of the
harvested water is a poison
and it brands the damaged
with the middle passage
for years I have decreed
that vanity is sought and borrowed
the flashing sails
of the fleshes winds
is wild with weapons and
cocked favors high
my dying, dying, dying
my whole life thought
the shore of life is my voyage
in dead April
my black rebellious nature
of uneasy linguist
who is the morning of all my morning
come to soon
leaps a crazy laughter
of the stagnant water
of black seed America.

with ragged individualism

2011-12-11T14:12:00.001-08:00

with ragged individualism
unanimity is the American way
will the crying of the day
the regular syphilis
of the sexual night
drips away
mega men black
as the day is long
fuck behind the puppet your sons
black choppers of
the common fuck
common blacks
chop opportunist
of the blood of Christ
police pf morals
to the washer woman's hands
mulatto tattoo
artiest of the flesh
lingers by America
my tenant God
my landlord of my soul
in cold water flats
of thin holes
conterminous of
staving to death
planters of commissaries and
commodities of overseers
of God the unpublicized
philanderer of the
public way
the impoverished tide of water
seeks down into the grave
and all is said
all is washed away
none lives forever
none is allowed to stay.
-

bedrock preachers

2011-12-11T14:11:00.001-08:00

bedrock preachers
honey colored black cherubic
untouched by the
common hand
tongues like wolves
riches planters
of hell's fire revenge
such men who speaks
to black women
about black bastards
that do not fit in the night
intervals specialists
in the socialist of
the lingering ghost
of the glow
hit it a Tap
that ass and
on ragging
rig a mos roll
men of Miguel
with the spilled tongue
that hanged the bastard
that broke the Lord's word
the blacks are aces
in the sight of God

What

2011-12-11T14:08:00.001-08:00

What of the character
of Demaratus?
Where do Porphyry
lies in his grave
who is the young Sophist
passing his days
humiliated by the moon
leotychides is an intriguer
and Greece did not
conquer their slaves
O lovey man of wine
the purest silver
is a gleam in your eyes
the priest have
the gift of gab
but I listen
no more
for the nails
are rusting in
the cross and
Jason's melancholy
is a hideous knife
that cuts me to the core
the art of poetry
is my savor
the unaware wounds
is my drug
I took a joint
and blunt my breath
as if the wine marker
is also a bore
plug me into the water
Baptiste me in wine
amorous Heracles
is naked and I
have trusted the excellent
tears of his eyes
prevail the brook and
thyme O lovely ,am
as handsome as a prayer
elegant as passed time
I too will die
the soldiers fell
the flowers drinks
the amorous rain
and many say
with mistrusts of truth
on their breath
that I am insane
O memory o leg of lamb
O succulent center
of my wounds
I am I as a lovely tune
I attempt to numb your
sorrows of suffering
I attempt to two the same
the hideous drug of
awareness is but
a little something
longer then my refuge
you renowned philosophers
Saccus of handsome faces
destination is a joke
played on the poor
who endure the laudable
Sophists
I am the politic
of high rememnering
I am the tradition
of soundings traditions
the Epochal is my idiot
and the Christian church
is ostentatiously pagan
as all religions before
debauchery is my customer
and handsome faces my divine delight
I endure the mean times
of all of my rights
philosopher
Padam is in Athen
he is owned by Circe
what of a father
allows his only
daughter to own
rag doll on the bed
that dear Kay made.

Sit here my love

2011-12-11T14:07:00.001-08:00

Sit here my love
and meditate
on the art of poetry
desire your feelings
as merciful things
unfulfilled is his reply
this figure of
middle aged love
beauty lives in his eyes
as fashionable things
I 'm perceptible round
the hours impressions
carved into my bones
combine the days
with the years
always none gone
I comb the hair
of my lover
indistinct as my lost
the lines in his face
are lames of memories
and time for all
it's forward movement
can not catch up
with itself
he leaves me fed
as a new beginning
he fulfills my
sexual needs
and our bed is soft
as plucked roses
hurrying toward
their birth
the rose's hips
are furtive
the bed is sensual
with delight
the separate love
and furtive and
holds no doubts
in a little while
the bed will fall
out of it's betrayal
the artiest in me
is a muse's slave
because I will not betray
the truth that I
have learned by the way
with vigorous verses
composed of the beginnings
I am a soothsayer
I am a love of bores
I am all of your beginnings
to ask what's the cause
I walk on somewhere
as if it's fires of coals
uneasily I go leaving
prints of poems in the snow
my fulfillment is what I gave
my mattress is a rose
for the imprint pg his
form that it holds
rose to the bee that blows
it's nose hurriedly the hour pass
speaking in a holy tongue
the words are able artiest
uttered as sensual love
tomorrow is no beginning
today never comes
vigorous my verse
will split your tongue
I am speaks with forks
of love time deviate
sensual delight
like my love
dark as night
as not to be seen
without light by the whites
separately the mattress cry
house in love with it's foundation
the bricks of which
I am composed
have holes, bubbles of air
that furtively wares away the dawn
the uneasy streets
betrays the streetlights
fads as fadding day
dress yourself separately
dress yourself as
some Demaratus
unbound, roll the
hill up the Boulder Colorado
of crouse I speak
rhetorically
none-the-less
or less-the-none
king Xerxes lost his son
and none, yes none
will be vindicated
as God’s lost son
the army of citizens
insults the public way
and the graves are
lonely both night and day
humble yourself
bride the Gods
shamelessly Aristotle
is no enemies nor
long lust intending
as some airborne
conversation over
heard by Porphyry
here is the great injustice
that man was ever born
shamelessly
the deprived darn dart
is the Sunday of the cause
bloody Sunday
bloody Monday
count all private
citizens as one
publicly the feast
with great zeal
Xerxes will not
kill the dawn
in the public square
the Christians getter
to conquer your soul
but be fore warned
of their boredom
they have no
moments of joy
without a thought
of their God.

most diligent

2011-12-11T14:06:00.001-08:00

most diligent
is my love
most scripture
is his needs
most difficult
is his doubts
that he will
no longer love me.

flippant Byzantine

2011-12-11T14:05:00.001-08:00

flippant Byzantine
flippant serious matter
diligently I cuss
the God that did
not give me head
be you familiar with
your God in a sexual way
be you lustful before
the grave
the Synodical canons
written in blood
and the insis
of scriptures
the talk of the
father and son
is dreadfully malevolent
as the suffering of Doukaina
who was a bore
composed in sextettes
and octets and
sonnets to amuse
the mythological
Peloponnese
and Constantinople's men
Alexander balas
is dead by the pen
have you heard the words”?
The fine night wine of Antioch
is glorified as a wrong
as such a young rose
as weak as Balas as
strong as the one
I do adore
tomorrow is a contest prize
and the crippled weakness
will not die
lovely young men
are running out of time
and foolish
victory of the
wheel of the chariot
is rotting on the vine
Antioch is lost
but still glorified
as if some adored
tomorrow never died
to death a second time
ordeal your secrets
order your prize
the Flatterers
are still divine
and dreadful
churches matters
are diligently
declined as
something not
brought as art
something indistinct
as faded memories
in the hands
of time fashions
wares out your
round the clock
combine your
doubts and successions
leave no impressions
imperceptible.

here my love

2011-12-11T14:04:00.001-08:00

here my love
the day breaks open
just because
it has been
done before.

old man

2011-12-11T14:03:00.001-08:00

light the dim candle

2011-12-11T14:02:00.001-08:00

The Surrounding Center

2011-12-11T14:01:00.001-08:00

His soul

2011-12-11T14:00:00.003-08:00

His soul
yes that part
of him his pains burns
to let me in his truth
yes that part
ambitious and
much an able
snatched\
dexterity
haughty his hands
at the waste
my long deep breath
impertinent
with sweat
his prologue
his tears laments
in a dizzy state
with rivulets
of rain and blood
and drops of dos
his wave just
of pre cum
because the
revolution
of our love
was forestalled
his cleaving marrow
yes this is confessing
it is what he do to me
when he do me done.

Something touched me

2011-12-11T14:00:00.001-08:00

Something touched me
on the back of the shoulder
I looked none here
but the hand of air
and the warmth
and light of the sun
my god as gods goes.
Then something slapped
on the back of the head
I turned and saw only a long
curly strand
of my hair hanging
lightly on the tail
wind of a fading wind
Somethings are
shooting into and
out and through me
it is the cosmos breathing
it is this God or
uncontrollable
dream of some God
complete with nightmares
of children hungry
in their beds
and bullets holes
in the school house walls.
These things leave
no holes but they
hold me fast
like a water of fire
and creativity's
cultivated prayers
falls from my eyes.
Yes I have water
made within me
and word filled
breath of winds
and sun heated skin
as well as heart within
its warmth warms
the way I walk through
what through in and
out of me.
God is my Mother
my Nurse Maid
and Mid Wife wedded
to darkness and light.
This mom ménage à trois rules
my life. All that is
is by pleasure of
darkness and light
and the cosmos
raise and falls
and dark hole
themselves to death
and life is born.

his soul

2011-12-11T13:59:00.001-08:00

Stranglers in the Cemetery

2011-12-11T13:58:00.001-08:00

I will ayuga your skin
my connotation of prostitution
as b-boy bubble butt
getting fucked
B/D top but your
baguette a baby Crockett....

Doorways leads

2011-12-11T13:57:00.001-08:00

I keep many things

2011-12-11T13:56:00.001-08:00

AIDs 30 Years on

2011-12-11T13:55:00.003-08:00

we soldiers

2011-12-11T13:55:00.001-08:00

I once was fitted
by what I wore
my booths shinning
my rank two fingers deep
I met my lover in the Army
where all enlisted are
brothers in the cause
don't ask don't tell
a secret we could not
afford I would
have given my life
if it came to that
for the American way
for you right to parade
against this war
I had my orders
shipped from Ft Leonard Wood
where I was trained to
take a life without
regret to numb myself
and pull the trigger
to hit my marksmen mark
in AIT and morning PT
in mess halls and platoons breast to backs
they got mines and I their
your left right your left right
Johnny got your gal and gone
sand my hair sand in my booths
the sweaty helmet I ware, the gas
mask the deadly air
the fallen brothers
the cross on the grave markers
the tiny flags
we report for duty
we clean our M-16s
we shower together
as men, we smoke
our grass and pop our pills
then we sleep as not to kill
I have known killers been one myself
for we are soldiers
come to rescuer men
POW the black flag wave
we liberate
our brothers pinned down
we try not to be caught
in the cross fire but shit happens
we save our dicks that stands
at attention fore calmer days
we sleep in villages whenever we can
I got me an over-nighter
i hunt reconnaissance
from door to door
I seek the American's foe
who will do me harm
the medic is by my side
the generals far away behind the lines
we are the chess pieces
that they play the board is the killing fields
down the way
the gunners, the armor division
the leather necks and the grunts gun ho God given
grace bold forgiven
and when I have served my time
when I am a short timer
put my helmet over my booths
and let them stand in line
for rotation of being recalled to duty
I have but one regret
and this is it that
only the soldiers knows the toll, the cost paid
to blow a trumpet before the grave
a flag on our coffin
can not wave
the gun salute
only shoots holes into the sky
we brave soldiers we who
served and we die
we legless, we with sightless eyes
we who because of what
we see in war must fight
against out own minds
we brave who answered the call
we stand tall, we stand tall
for you all.
-

Many are my thoughts

2011-12-11T13:51:00.001-08:00

Many are my thoughts
dark my days and nights
I am not right
in the head
all said I brood
caution not to cry in public
I sink into my body
eyes agleam awakening
into this love
that rushes fluids
into me
I as window
as poet that you
can look though
I am many meanings
of blackness seen
on the bus sunk
down on the city's
street I the greener grass
on this side of town
I dark drown
hugging all darkness
all skin color
echoing nigh
I conspire to
win your heart
only if it is
willingly given
I am not right
in the head
I think that blacks
can save man

The window

2011-12-11T13:50:00.001-08:00

O night O day

2011-12-11T10:54:00.001-08:00

I rolled

2011-12-11T10:53:00.003-08:00

Boys are

2011-12-11T10:53:00.001-08:00

Boys are more concern
with their muscles
they can not resist the run
it's all just boyish fun
boys kills more
creatures then girls
they tear off the
light of firefly
and wear it as a ring
boys are not mean
they are inquisitive about
creep crowing things
they are allowed
to get dirty
boys will play
with toy dolls and
toy guns just for fun
they love the
new electronic gadgets
boys learn to
hold their tears
to bite down
on their pain
they think girls
are wearied
in a girlish
kind of a way
boys like to
go fast to
give it all they got
on the swing
from which they jump
in mid air
and sand box
pouring sand into their hair
boys collect
natural things
like sea shells
and rocks
and stamps from overseas
boy takes the time
to closely examine things
boys are impatient
they have energy to spend
boys loves to throw
the farest the best
and boys like to bet
boys aren't afraid
of bad words
you will hear them
on their lips
boys can be cruel
to cats but hold
dogs with respect
boys look more
closely at dead things
and ask you why
the hark got
a pigeon in his mouth
boys like to play
will splashes in puddles
of dead rain
boys like to
explore far
and near
boys must be taught
to pull back and wash
the foreskin
boys will walk
the tight rope
of what it means
to be a boy
and they will
shadow box
and wrestler
with their friends
boys will pick a fight
to see how
far they can push
and pull the hair
of little girls
to say I like you
boys will shoot birds
with their bb guns
and break windows
with their balls
all in all
boys are made by
and boys are taught
that man knows best
without a doubt.

His walk is like a song

2011-12-11T10:52:00.000-08:00

His walk is like a song
not just any old song
but the kinda song
that Nina Simone
want to take on
put it on me, baby
his voice demands respect
the kind that you get
when you learn to
spell it from a song
r-e-s-p-e-c-t sister man
asking this of me
put it on me, baby
his smile a hidden clown
the joy bring kind
cause he's brave enough
to pull the hairs
from his chest
the kind that
asks in a 70s
kinda way
didn't I blow your mind
this time, didn't I
put it on me, baby
his feminine is strong
he bares it on
his shoulders
like his bravery he do
it is as beautiful as
embroider silk
and strong as kente cloth
he is the ancestral drums
that moves our hips
of who we be
put it on me, baby
his lovin' is like
my ace boon coon
the kind that people
seldom sing of
the kind that
poets breathe
their breath to
catch a whips of
put-it-on-me, baby
his touch touches
my lust it dispel
my fragile hurts
he tongue my embrace
I assure his gender
when he put it on me.

2011-12-11T10:42:00.000-08:00

is my love
most scripture
is his needs
most difficult
is his doubts
that he will
no longer love me.

There are no

2011-12-11T10:17:00.001-08:00

There are nocheat queersno kindnessthat is holleringprayers at theking of heartsthere is nobreath that cannot dancecan not scream like awhore's prayermy money is my lawyermy two-bit is listeningto the tic of my heartthat weeps its humiliationlike standing on the cornerwaiting for a John whoI can sweat into the throatof trafficthere is a bed of speedthat is my thief my rancid realitythat creeps against the suckingof me and my night always nasty alwaysfull of silk pantiesworn under my breath-

I keep many Things

2011-06-23T11:26:00.000-07:00

We Soldiers of the Cause

2011-06-23T10:58:00.000-07:00

30 Years

2011-06-23T10:57:00.001-07:00

30 year it have been
since the first one
marked on the head
of his dick a St. Louis teenager
died in 969
30 years I carry
a touch whose flame
fought the winds
whose light flickers
to light my way
whose light dims
at the close of day
30 years packed tight
with black men like
some stinking cargo hold
of rotting flesh
I weep not for
them gone for they
have gone home
but for my young brothers
who because of their
sexual needs reject
the rubber for naked skin
and allow Aids in
brothers safe guard
yourselves it ain’t all that
protect yourselves against
the treat that will eat
away all your flesh
I will not leave you along
to sex with only yourself
30 years of death
and nature is not to blame
all things have a right
to life all things even
this disease that takes away life
it is you who must protect
your sexual lovers in the night

Some men

2011-05-29T16:12:00.001-07:00

Some men go for light skin
some the same for that straight long hair
some for big dicks
some a cute young thing to ware
some men are player player
get you to give them anything
but these men will not be tied down
with a wedding ring
some men are as dark as dirt
and will give it to you at their homes
cook you dinner and pay your phone
so glad to belong
some men play games like that
they will steal even your blackness
then blame the whole damn thing on you
some men are ever so smooth
to woo you with a kiss
some men will hit
some men drink to forget
that they are in love with you
some men will hit you up for gas
every other day
some men got a little bit on the side
yell some men be that way
some men will take you to school
some men suffer no fools
some men are to good to be true
and spend all of their little money on you
and they say a good man is hard to find
I do believe that some men are blind
to seek the flesh instead of the mind.

The heat of the sun

2011-05-27T15:46:00.001-07:00

The heat of the sun
inundate me
with warm wind
just fresh across
his tongue
our love is only
recognized by
our history
the breeders came
and murdered it
in its sleep when
we was not on guard
my mouth disdain language
my hands are
re[eating idiocies
used to touch
the memories left
on the kitchen table
like old newspapers
that have seen
better winds blowing
the streets, yes
the real reality
of being gay is
worth all the money
in my dreams
that I keep tugged
between my spendings
and my hollering at
the nobody of
my desires.

Boys are

2011-05-23T22:19:00.000-07:00

Boys are more concern
with their muscles
they can not resist the run
it's all just boyish fun
boys kills more
creatures then girls
they tear off the
light of firefly
and wear it as a ring
boys are not mean
they are inquisitive about
creep crowing things
they are allowed
to get dirty
boys will play
with toy dolls and
toy guns just for fun
they love the
new electronic gadgets
boys learn to
hold their tears
to bite down
on their pain
they think girls
are wearied
in a girlish
kind of a way
boys like to
go fast to
give it all they got
on the swing
from which they jump
in mid air
and sand box
pouring sand into their hair
boys collect
natural things
like sea shells
and rocks
and stamps from overseas
boy takes the time
to closely examine things
boys are impatient
they have energy to spend
boys loves to throw
the farest the best
and boys like to bet
boys aren't afraid
of bad words
you will hear them
on their lips
boys can be cruel
to cats but hold
dogs with respect
boys look more
closely at dead things
and ask you why
the hark got
a pigeon in his mouth
boys like to play
will splashes in puddles
of dead rain
boys like to
explore far
and near
boys must be taught
to pull back and wash
the foreskin
boys will walk
the tight rope
of what it means
to be a boy
and they will
shadow box
and wrestler
with their friends
boys will pick a fight
to see how
far they can push
and pull the hair
of little girls
to say I like you
boys will shoot birds
with their bebe guns
and break windows
with their balls
all in all
boys are made by
and boys are taught
that man knows best
without a doubt.
-

05-06-2011

2011-05-06T15:05:00.001-07:00

A coffee cup beside the night stand
holding up night
for all to see in its shadows
what there will be
things that have lost their forms
your underwear thrown cross the chair
your limbs half hidden beneath the sheets
my spring lover your warmth is
by the comfort of our bed.
-

in the crowd
along the street
for the gay pride parade
i see them wve
to a drag queen
who legs needs a shave
the illusion is not complete
for me to go hunting
to meet an endless man
to carry my love of peacefulness
he illusion is half baked
when a four o clock shadow
shadows the face
this one dressed in black
a legion of falsies
glued to her chest
a dog walks by
ten an old man with a cane
the church bells rings
a pale tree tremble
in the lost winds
i am earnest earth
my absolutely impossibility
to save when wars rages
the respect the wagging war
and the young salutes the flag
i will not drag their lives away
when war is chained
to the wallet like
a ball and chain
God once showed
the way of ways
me i am the key
I ware a paper hat
he specks like he is a shadow
in want to cry and see
what of earth can we call our
distanced for commonality.
-

When he passed me
i looked back to see
that his ass is as fine
that of Sidney Portia
tight in Lilies of the failed field
black men in black and white
are enhance with a dark glow
beyond the meat
of their flesh
on the table for a blow
the feast for my eyes
black men love their sex
and have grown accustom to
the struggle against
both church and state of
what it means to be black and gay.
-

Up my anus
you will find
majestic design
there are diamonds
the stone of April
you will find
much to explore
what caret I contain
my anus carry
the scrofula
for my man.
-

i am without
a lover
i am without
a man
immense is my struggle
non sacred my yes and cans
my nakedness goes darkly7
down the salt sea shore
my blood is beautiful
good nature as
a waiting arrow
ready to explore
i am a primal secret
i am adored and adorn
by chromosomes
coalescing expectation
behind the barred door
the rain is shooting hard
the electric icteric swimmers
are ready at the mark
the clouds are half as stubborn
as the all embracing dark
thunder is deliriums
the moon metamorphose
the irresistible fountain
of my erect dick
severance with under tolls
of spirituality trammel
of the unknown sky
I have no needs for adolescent
to stiffen my sexual dreams
they are too young to satisfy me.
-

he caught me
staring at him
I smiled he blushed
-

I followed
the curve down
of where the
crown of his butt
goes to meet
the back thigh
a shadow there.
-

he said that
i smelt as
Good as I looked
because I wasn't
waring any cologne
just the scent
between my legs
and under my arm.
-

it's hard work
to be in love
with me
i reguie
.
-

If i had
a stud farm\
I would puck
the slender
ones themselves one tense
of muscles
on narrow bones.

I put a ring on it

2011-04-14T18:33:00.001-07:00

I put a ring on it
yes that pussy is all mines
no one else shall smell
the fishiness of her
pussy divine
I put a ring on it
yes that dick is mines
no one else can ring his cock
like this hole divine
I put a ring on it
yes that ass is mines
no one else shall sweat
the musk of his ass divine

Up my anus

2011-04-14T18:30:00.001-07:00

Up my anus
you will find
majesty sexually deigned
there are diamonds
the stone of April
you will find
much to explore
what carats I contain
my anus carry
the scrofula for my man
it have burn down
the hysteria’s teeth
and ware the impetuous
missionary position
around my neck
I am a speck of duration coal
an endless major pose
before the black bold
men who woo my heart
I am the vengeance unfolded
the black head of my taste
is the king's staff I carry
my anus remember
who will fit the gorgeous
railways of my slit
the munificence of my ways
the thrush hole that tighten
in a sexual grip
the blowhole the back door
of old black blues men
the lingual tool at my use
coconut cream runs down my thigh
madden through the corner of my eye
I resend the sinister
thickness and he glides within
sex makes a radiance of my face
and my nakedness is pleased
I am tied to earth by
a dick of an umbilicus cord
grumbling with an excellent song to sign
my milky white tugging tool tied with a ring
I am overflowing with backwater
of my rushing dreams
I use no plumb
of a milking machine
to leak out my sons
to be in my dreams
the armor-plated chest
that is my muscles
trilobites in half light
swollen thick in mirrors
vigorous as tender
my pouch of irrepressible
joy opens to the cause
corpuscular taste
and I want not a seed
nothing ripe but dick heads
swollen in my dreams
the vinous word
descry my honor
descry the reptile
motion of my member
because it is a rusty dark dick
that quiver at the moment of penetration
in me is a nocturnal love
that never sleeps
in me my anus is wild
to welcome in the metamorphosis
call to arm with a smile
I never use my dick
as a sisal sword
never wishing to love
a younger boy
never fight to shoot my seeds
I am not infantile in my sexual needs
for cum thick as
sour cream
I am top soil
where you can plant
your sexual dreams
I am the falcon that
fly between the rain
the vivid flesh
the cerebral cortex
the contours of my ass
is a beautiful hill
of feast and function
blissful is my tenderness
rock hard my dick
with soft plasticity
with adolescent pre cum
remembered for its
muscular effort
the thorny pluck
of ready to pick lust
the ancestral silent
of dusk that blaze
a crackle of summons
as my dark inheritance
victorious in zeal
resplendent and proud
I am the serpent's eye
the thunderstruck
thunderbolts that cracks
the anclis of a
hallow of carcasses
let your dick
slumber in my anus
let me feel all of your weight
pound against my ass
as riding a rail ride
me full of sexual laughter.
-

O what matter of man

2011-04-14T18:21:00.003-07:00

O what matter of man
my fancy seeks
what lovely face
and stature with
a bit of fat
what size his continence
what kinda man relish
my heart with wooing words
words and perceived
sexual wants
I know not but
take them as them come
for all black men
are beautiful
under the gracious sun.

I love to love birds

2011-04-14T18:21:00.001-07:00

I love to love birds
of all kinds even
the cantankerous Mockin' bird
who harass every other birds
and squirrels but not the brown Sparrows
I love to bird my love
to peck at his nipples
and balls even when
he is cantankerous
his juices flows
I love to bird my love
feed him sunflower seeds
and bread and chicken wings bones
with a little bit of meat
as if my love is a Starling
I love to dress as a bird
Cardinal red Bluejay blue
Carry yellow and Black bird's
iridescence darkness as my lover
as if I was made of plumes
I love to love birds
who shy away from my
approach as if I
had in mind bird's nest soup
or squah or pigeon stew
I love to love
as if it was a singular cantankerous joy
sometimes cantankerous
with erect nipples and
drawn up balls that
flush sons and would be daughters
through the pee hole
I love to love birds
the way that they
perch beneath the out door faucet
and mine it for a drop of water
the way that the Robin
lands near when I am over turning the lawn
his eyes ever watchful of worms
their bird's brain
knows that man can
be a source of food
the vultures of their ways
will not waste your meat in the grave
the way they rub their
breast in the dry dirt
is like my lover in the
shower who would
not give me his musk
because he was upset with me
I love to love birds
the Little Bee-eater
the Red and Yellow
Barbet the Snake Eagle
the Maasai Ostrich long of neck
flightless wings
largest bird as large
as my lover's love for me
I love to love birds

He

2011-02-14T16:53:00.001-08:00

He dropped
his draws
and learned
his lesson
I told him
that I was
a rough ride

Come fo ta

2011-02-14T16:52:00.001-08:00

Come fo ta self
save my soul
sure footed
throws of feet fall
comin' fo to self
save my soul
black man Settian bold
gate keeper growin' old
God smiled his grin
wide as the sea
comin' fo ta save me
he be tha thang
tha lovin ring
of cock ring
wrung round
my thing he be
black as mississippi coal
bold lips, bold nose
he be lovin me
lik I's his king
.comin' fo ta
save my ancient soul
he be son
of the first man
mad desires
comin' fo ta
save my soul
he be sure stance
and steel will
to pile his nuts
as a meal
comin' fo tra
save my sexual soul
he be rock-fire
home hung high
rebellious fellow
by and by
comin' fo to save
my soul he be
lovely by a mile
hung in hunger
to swallow my thick
comin' fo ta save
my sould he be
elder mainstay
seldon low
comin' fo ta
save my soul

Lewdly he lay

2011-02-13T10:37:00.000-08:00

lewdly he lay
enticing me
to undo his belt
I bid you my main man
to maiden my heart
to subject me
with my lust
I am already wet
I giant in
my needs to gain
your rocks full
in my mouth
as a rein round
my tongue
I am better
from the back
my vertical tool
my pipe my
bidder's call
to pay the price
of a blow in
the shades
a tasty burly man
between the abutment
of my ass
lewdly he lay
chocked with desires
as to sweat musk
more masculine then
any cologne
the fore-motion
of his thrust
his dips and
round motions
his discharge
that drips down my leg
his sweat that
drops into mine
his black smile of
stratification of
a job well done
a sanctification
of my satisfaction
of the heart he have won
my pride my
squat with
all the motion
against gravity shoots
across the bed as
if sons unborn
swimming for the egg
I call him
Prick Daddy
for his sexual hunger
his lewd lustily
hunger and
the comfort in which
he fucks my thirst
groping my dark flesh
his sexual appetite
is strong enough
to stiffen the bent
dicks of the Gods.
-

I wet his draws

2011-02-07T17:44:00.000-08:00

I wet his draws
with my tongue
still the lovin'
was not done
I wiped his balls
of all their sweat
still it was
not time to rest
I bent my back
to the fuck
still I did
not come
I laid beside
him and slept
still he fucked
me in my dreams
wet with my sleep
it seem that
too much of
a good thing
is sometimes
just enough.

The last time

2011-02-07T17:42:00.005-08:00

The last time
That I saw him
He was writing
His name with piss
In the new snow
That malted a crooked caverns
Of running pissing
Outside of the liquor store
Rough trade with
Rough hands and
Stubble of beard
The last time
That I saw him he
Was bumming change
In front of the high school
Being the man he is
He withstood the
Thunder snow of
East St. Louis where
St. Louis thugs dump
Their bodies
He hasn't lost his historical
Renegade nature
He dirty his hands
With the business
Of the streets
He'll sell you his thighs
And drink your whiskey
And piss it in the snow
Going home.

Spring men

2011-02-07T17:42:00.003-08:00

Spring men
shoot lovely lush
of brush haired
with egg eyes
and huts for nostrils
and swamps for lips
and weeds that
are flowers and
fair flings of loves
lovely spring men
lust for the fuck
with echoing touches
lingering long
Crystal Christ like their love
strong and full
of thunder and wet snow
and old growth
new again in their stand
upon the branch
spring men are
April survivors
to hear their
love speak of it
grassy brush of pear tree
new tender leaves and
buds of ready nuts
to pop their flowers
of daughters and sons
little swimmers ready
at the mark juicy men
lush with ready lust
and stormy thunder talk
let spring men
soak you up
of deserving good
let them depend within your bloom
and fling to high heaven with
baby thrush singing
to the blue let
spring men strike
you with their love
their may love made
on Mayday let their
love rush riot run in you..

Spring men

2011-02-07T17:42:00.001-08:00

Weeds of me

2011-02-07T17:41:00.005-08:00

Weeds of me
would be flowers
of who I am
elopement slumbered
gaze of days daylight
prosperity trembling
at its best loaded
with plunging
bolted back the word of my hands
digging in the dark
for some dim light
irregularly
like digging for desires
down in the ditch that
died slow of cries and
God forsaken whys
my scars protects me
from the burly
wind winning its
way true home
being followed
by the moon
my hardness is harshness
is always harnessed
to my sense of wonder
my weed's ways
growing in the cracks
clad all of my gladness
and time's breath
is a leisure growth
toward the death
that I can never know
and gay gray attire
of ideals on how
to be the weed man
who suppliers the Gods
with high hopes
of worshiping the insufficiencies
of souls blessed
by breath by the busyness of life
who has no time
for no one
weeds mines
grace that lag
between the flesh flash
fir forecast the burning of things
the smoke I stroke
the embers of me
and leisure into
a piece of peace
I slumber spread legs
starry to do the work of the bed
I sow weeds
into the balance
I spread eagle
at sea level
I wet wood of
brittle yellow
dappled as some
daffodil's shadow
I am a growth
wild as weeds
as flowers of leaves
and trees and
laughter’s last hum
I am only a theory
of what truth means
a brain boy a head whole
exhibition I am
half of the children
that will not submit
a fleet of wheat
a gay blade of
dusk and golden
rods baying at the wind
wild water is my wetness
inversnaid fleece foam
drowning in a sea
of ferns fiddle heads
tightness is the wilderness
I play a weed by any
name will still
flower its smell as
sweet as the musk
of my might
braes my groin
and I sing the sexual burn
of digging into
the flesh of things
of earth things
in golden groves and
nature's comforts
nature's roguish
tediousness of tricks
of a variation on the theme of life
weed tongue
older then the flowers
weed weep the wan wood
weed hung like imp's
rúng of men who go to seed
are laced to witness
the joy of flower boys
who beckon to be loved
tender men of lost Jacks
with bit lips and hips
that dip in the fuck
blushed men without
wedlock's duty men
grown into their skin
men anointed
by their impatient sex
to guard the gate men
of weed's big boned
in their handsomeness
heavy as sweet reprieve
boisterous men elder
to the cause
young John's of men
who live their
life with a kiss.
-

Weeds of me

2011-02-07T17:41:00.003-08:00

Weeds of me

2011-02-07T17:41:00.001-08:00

Kuumba

2011-01-03T17:12:00.001-08:00

Kuumba

Creativity

I am Griot
I am Poet
I am the first fruit
Black is my people
Red is their struggle
Green is their future
By the light of their muza
And their elders
Loved above all things
And mubidi of
Their children
Who are a donation
To our future
We slip libation
From the unity cup
To honor our ancestors
We do as we can
When we can
From Joseph F. Beam
To you to me
To leave an inheritance
A black legacy
It is the creativity
Of our children that
Shall repair and
Heal the world
Yes, serudj ta
Is there tool to
To make the world
Beautiful if only
We as black folks
Come to heal ourselves
First if we have hope
We are an injured people
In America
A people of struggle
And self inflicted pain
It is our God given creativity
That have made us strong
To carry on against all odds
The Odu lfa tells us
That anyone who
Does good
Does it for himself
And anyone who
Does evil does it to himself
Do not use your creativity
To damage the race nor the world
Do not use your creativity
In the guise of religion
To impose on others
Do not use your creativity
To justify unjust wars
To seize and occupy
Others land
Do not use your creativity
To justify injustice
Do not use your creativity
To turn away from
The suffering and pain of the world
Nor for unneeded material gain
The measure of all things
Is not to use your
Creativity to pollute
Plunder, deplete nor
Destroy nature
But use it true
To plan the eternity
Of our youths
And black generations
That shall follow you
-

Nia

2011-01-03T17:10:00.001-08:00

Purpose

What is the purpose
Of your black skin
What is the purpose
Of our elders
Rich in the knowledge
That only age can give
To teach the youths
Of our black kin
What is the purpose
Of unity when you
Feel yourself alone
Go into the soup
Kitchen where some
Black children
Call their second home
Books can take you
Only so far
The elder's flesh
Holds the key
To unlock the door
Of who you are meant to be
And how to deal
With adversity
How to make your
Way pass those
Who would stomp you down
Go into the convalescent homes
Go into the schools
Volunteer to be an ear
To our elders
Volunteer to teach our youths
Leave not our elders
To die alone
Martin Luther King said
“Service is the substance
Of greatness” he served
So surely he knew
That to be true to yourself
To our elders and children
You must be true they both
Count on you
What is the purpose
Of your purpose
What is you God to you
What are you here to do
Go away from your
Computers and t v
Sit your old school
Or hip hop ways aside
Sat to hear the teaching
Of our elders what need have they to lie
See the gleam in our children eyes
The truth my sisters and brothers
The truth that calls your name
Is found in the rich
life of our elders
Make of this our children the same
let them teach you before they die
What is the purpose of your life
What is the purpose of your death
Each of us must seek the answer
Deep within our children and elder's breast
Nai

Ujamaa

2011-01-03T17:03:00.000-08:00

Ujamaa

Cooperative Economics

Some say that
Integration was the death
Of black owned businesses
Some say that the Civil
Right Act was the death
Of the traditionally black neighborhood
That those who could afford it
Moved out to leave the
Poor of the poor and our elders
To fend for themselves against
Young black warriors
Who only respect
Getting hold the processions
Of others by any means necessary
Some say that
The black middle class
Has turned its back
On their sisters and brothers
Some say that Cosby
Who set on the sideline
During the Civil Right Moment
Should had told us first
Before he told the whites also
That he have nothing but disdain
For the black and poor
And that this is evident that the
Black middle class is
White washed by the greenness of their money
As in all things there is
A grain of truth like
A pebble in our collective shoe that
That rubs us raw and
Some middle class blacks are
Walking on a cloud of self delusion
As not to muddy their designer shoes
In the muck and mire of the ground in which
The poor are digging out a living
Ujamaa- Cooperative
Economics\
The black green back buck
Is not our savior
But only a tool to be used
To buy new and stronger booth laces
In which the poor
Can pull themselves up by
Cooperative is the telling word
That guild us as a black light
That will show us our true color
Economics is what we should
Be teaching our children
Is only a mean to a greater end
None of us should be intransigently ignorant
Of this fact
The church both black and white in its misguided
Way have been trying
To save us with a white God
Once black but we are
Hearing none of that this idea
That Jesus was black is as
Distasteful to blacks as it is to whites
A dark people without a dark God
Is lost in the wilderness of whiteness
And that wilderness is our home
The land of the brave and the colonized.
And no manner of musical or sport bread crumbs
Can save us
Ujamaa
-

Kujichagalla

2011-01-03T16:49:00.000-08:00

Self-Determination

Knowledge is the root
Of spiritual power
And power is the root
Of spiritual knowledge
Know yourself and you
Know man, know Nature
And you know yourself.
As a thing within her.
Self-determination
Is confident in knowing
That you have a place
In the universe, a place
That is yours along
The self determination
Of the self is the determination
That acts out its dreams
To be of use in our world
Crowded with individuals
Who work with or against you
A case in point the
Settian man who says
To himself first
I am me apart
Of the God head that
Is the only existence
That I can ever know
I am Settian in my bones
A black man who
Enjoy the sexual
Flesh of men and in
My love I harm no one
In my joys I rejoice
In the sexual knowledge
That I am one
Never along
In my life's journey
Full of ready breath
Of men who love as I do
The sexual self and the spiritual self are
Tow heads of the same coin
As it is true that ni man knows everything
And no man knows nothing
So is it true that self determination
And self-acceptance
Are two heads of the same
Be you self determined
Toward self acceptance
Above all things
You are one of a kind
None before and none after
Shall come this way
My black brothers
Know that you are
Loved by the poets
Know that you
Are the fuel of their poetic fire
That burns its heat and light
In your honor
Kujichagalla
-

Umoja

2011-01-03T16:39:00.001-08:00

(unity)

From the souls that jumped ship
The children, the woman folks
And the men with King's hands
We unite with you
From the Blacks that bore the licks
of the tip of the whips
When the whites refuse to understand
We unity with you
From the black bent backs
Of the sugar mills and indigo factories
And cotton fields
Where out sweat stained them all
We unite with you
From W. E. Du Bois
To the by all means
Of Malcolm
We unite with you
From Booker T's disenfranchisement
To Martin Lutheran King's
I have a dream
We unite with you
From the tobacco farm
Of Benjamin Baneker
To the covered miles of
Sojourner Truth
We unite with you
from the Jacobs Free School
To Cummell's American
Negro Academy
We unite with you
From then North star of Trubman
With a $40.000 bounty on her head
Yes the spy
We unite with you
To George Washington
Carver ransomed
For a $300 prized race horse
We unite with you
From the carpenter's hands
Of Ida Wells that held the pen
Of Southern Horrors
We unite with you
From the wisdom of Mary
Mcleoad Bethune
Who breath the air
That I breathed in 1953
We unite with you
From the once lost grave
of Zora Neale Hurston
And the Black Bourgeois of
E. Franklin Frazier
We unite with you
From the weary Blues
To the blood of Charles Drew
We unite within you
From the Warrior Intellectual
Of Loraine Hansberry
To the Presidential Medal of Freedom
OF Colin Powel
We unite with you
From the Fences and the Piano Lesson
To Edward Blyden's Travels in Africa
We unite with you
No longer do we jump ships
No longer bears the whip's
Licks save what lies
Are told of our unity
Told against our indigenous ways
To be as bold of mind
As we are of bold of skin that unite us.

Umoja

2011-01-03T16:36:00.001-08:00

2010-12-09T15:52:00.001-08:00

Poem for Cleo Manago

2010-12-03T14:49:00.001-08:00

I stride my replies
And yoke beside the
Wise morning full of birds
In their living out of doors wisdom
I strain to walk the lane
Again and again to rest
In the belly of the west
With its laborious mountains
Above Denver
I give my best Bill and me
Will our sexual aim still
As going insane we rise
Above the common game
And they call us homosexuals
As if sex is all to me
I sex the way you do as
To sex if we are true
No more no less its measure
Is of its place in all my human things
Sex is a treasure to give and take
To tongue a dick stiff of tongue
And suck and wait the swimmer’s run
The seed head from pulled back foreskin helmet
They call us homosexual because we play each other
With morning’s beams and
Teams of sweat and pale lies
We sigh to bay and dark tones
By birth won and leave
The morn to the forlorn who
Sell their will from an empty well
And what about our hidden doubts
Down in St. Louis town
Where flowers of pretty god byes
Of dusk brims burning with
Desires that spans the land to the rim
Together we love a strong
Black strive of interlocked
Thighs our broad noises and wide lips plump
Like lanes in the land that lead from
Nude man to nude man of bear form
And tongue warmed by sweet cum
On the hills of our bellies
Tomorrow will round and
Fall from the sky and
Sex or love denied is perhaps
The trustless touch
Love is luck and lust
Toward the fuck is momentarily filled
But acts as if it is starving soon again
The Settian hour is at hand
For same gender loving black men
Who know that the word gay
Is full of holes so must go
Only to them to which it belongs
Comrades leave that home
And heavy yourselves as heroes
Fighting the good cause
Born from your dark skin
Black men O my comrades of mind
And sexual body’s desires
Let the lie die out of you
And your brothers recruit
Toward the Manago frame of mind
No better teacher and hero
Have I then the truth of his black light.

There is a handsome God

2010-11-14T14:29:00.001-08:00

There is a handsome God
Like a bare back black man
Reposed half hidden by the sheet
A bear built God bold willing
To pump and pack life into the hole
To sweat his skin against mine
This God have an erect prink prickly
With sons of seeds little swimmers
Of whom he is physically
This God gold glow against his skin
Stander of a man
This bold black bag
Of African wisdom inherently hidden
Will not hide his love of me
This sexual power pure as male sex
Seeks to set his seared foreskin
Within me and teach me and tight me
And spill his sons within me
There is a handsome God
Who lay his fat to my lips
And we sweet the salt of life
And we worship the prick of life
And we know that all Gods
Are sexual that life may grow.

What Harm in a Word

2010-11-03T18:28:00.003-07:00

My nine years old grand nephew asked me is the word gay was a bad word? I said to him “I am gay am I bad”? He said “No way Uncle David!” As I thought of it I had already made up my mind that in fact being gay was not bad but it was used in a limited way at the exclusion of black. To all my same gender loving brothers I have a proposal for you. I purpose that we as Black people drop the word gay to define us. If you do a google on the word gay what you will get is the some-what colonial inspired white way of knowledge of white middle class gay men,. It is necessary for you to qualify the word gay with the words black or African American.. What use have we as black people holding onto a word that represent us as a second class qualifier. We African Americans have a history of self defining ourselves as Africans, or niggers. It is time that we as same gender loving men define ourselves and I propose that we use the word, Settian a word that I coined from the African-Egyptian God Set brother to Horus, here is a bit about Set, more info on him can be had on the net.
It was also said, during these contendings of Horus and Set, that Set had sought to support his claim to the throne by showing Horus was submissive to him, and consequently seduced Horus, with lines like How lovely your backside is. They had interfemoral intercourse, with Set taking the top role, but Horus secretly caught Set's semen, when he ejaculated, and throws it in the river. Subsequently, Horus masturbates, and secretly places his resulting semen onto lettuce, which Set then unknowingly eats, as it was his favourite food. To prove his dominance to the other gods, Set explains to them that Horus submitted to his advances, and calls forth his semen as evidence, but it answers from the river. Horus then calls his own semen forth, which answers from inside Set, making the gods feel that Horus was the dominant one, and therefore the rightful heir. In later versions of this myth, it is Thoth's magic that causes the semen to respond.
To self-define ourselves with this subjection we give relevance to am ancient African God that is apart of the ancestors history of the black man on the gracious and honest earth.

David E. Patton

What Harm in a Word

2010-11-03T18:28:00.001-07:00

My nine years old nephew asked me is the word gay was a bad word? I said to him “I am gay am I bad”? He said “No way Uncle David!” As I thought of it I had already made up my mind that in fact being gay was not bad but it was used in a limited way at the exclusion of black. To all my same gender loving brothers I have a proposal for you. I purpose that we as Black people drop the word gay to define us. If you do a google on the word gay what you will get is the some-what colonial inspired white way of knowledge of white middle class gay men,. It is necessary for you to qualify the word gay with the words black or African American.. What use have we as black people holding onto a word that represent us as a second class qualifier. We African Americans have a history of self defining ourselves as Africans, or niggers. It is time that we as same gender loving men define ourselves and I propose that we use the word, Settian a word that I coined from the African-Egyptian God Set brother to Horus, here is a bit about Set, more info on him can be had on the net.
It was also said, during these contendings of Horus and Set, that Set had sought to support his claim to the throne by showing Horus was submissive to him, and consequently seduced Horus, with lines like How lovely your backside is. They had interfemoral intercourse, with Set taking the top role, but Horus secretly caught Set's semen, when he ejaculated, and throws it in the river. Subsequently, Horus masturbates, and secretly places his resulting semen onto lettuce, which Set then unknowingly eats, as it was his favourite food. To prove his dominance to the other gods, Set explains to them that Horus submitted to his advances, and calls forth his semen as evidence, but it answers from the river. Horus then calls his own semen forth, which answers from inside Set, making the gods feel that Horus was the dominant one, and therefore the rightful heir. In later versions of this myth, it is Thoth's magic that causes the semen to respond.
To self-define ourselves with this subjection we give relevance to am ancient African God that is apart of the ancestors history of the black man on the gracious and honest earth.

David E. Patton