Glossy (Spoken)

Insomnia + audacity + microphone + lil ol' me = Another attempt at Spoken Word (Glossy).

I'm trying to get more comfortable with reading my stuff. I don't consider myself a spoken word artist at all - I'm more of a paper poet, but once in a while I like to experiment and try something different.

And theres nothing wrong with that...

Ps: If you want to hear more, Click Here for my ReverbNation Page!

Glossy

Saturday nights spread thickly
like lip gloss
A sheer, pink shade that shimmers
beneath the lights
sending a violent heat wave
across the bar
when
trouble walked in with
boots
knee-high
and full lashes

all
eyes
on...

her.

She
made us stop
and take notice
She
made me wish...

wish my breast could know the sun
the same way this girl
knows danger -
the way she plays with fire
Igniting flames in the snugged parts of each man she passes
Inhaling the howls
and sipping on the heavy pants
sloppy
wet

glossy

I watch the
spectacle from afar
soaking in my own
mire of insecurities and
wondering

How much that kind of freedom would cost...

On any given rainy day,
how many pennies would I have to save
to buy that kind of power
with legs closed?

9 Days of Rain

It once rained for nine days straight here in Philly...



9 Days of Rain

It was suppose to be a red
and dry season
But it rained for nine days straight this month.

Her cries were
tears over the ocean -
They did not matter to him.

And she still believes them when
they say they can make her forget.
The two things she fears more than God are

empty bedrooms
and the slow movement of a single breath.
Why stop here when there is so much love in the world?

She can never let go
With a sweaty grip
She still holds tight

The last time she tried to say goodbye
She promised herself
that the next one would love her better and wetter...

better
and
wetter.

Sweet Tea

There was no real inspiration behind this one except that I love sweet tea. This poem was just for fun.

Ps: Sweet tea and love go together like summer and the city.



Sweet Tea

My lover from the northside
has gone to pick me flowers from my neighbor's garden
My honey boy, sticky and fresh
tangerine lips
How can I forget?
A smile that I feel somewhere deep
tickles my feet
Lost in his eyes
open spaces
where my heart is free to fly,

my lover from the northside...

made me breakfast while I was still in bed
Eggs, toast with jelly
and a nice hot cup of tea
'Extra sugar, please!'
Sipped his love slowly
Like the hymns of the pigeons outside
Momma said he seems like a good guy
And his hands never do lie,

my lover from the northside...

isn't as tough as he appears
Not stone-cold, grim
Yes, the boy loves his Tims
but when the boots come off -
under my bed
He is the perfect shade of red
Passionate and gentle at the same time
I'm a mosquito
and his sweet blood makes my tongue cry,

my lover from the northside -

his love spreads far
from here to Crooklyn
Feels like warm milk spilling in
He carries this poem in his back pocket
Understands the similes and metaphors -
says 'baby, I got it'
And on Sundays we lay
while the city's melody plays
Are those fireworks I hear
or bombs coming down?
It doesn't matter
Its calm in here

for now.

Glossy

For freedom, and for the glamorous life...



Glossy

Saturday nights spread thickly
like lip gloss
A sheer, pink shade that shimmers
beneath the lights
sending a violent heat wave
across the bar
when
trouble walked in with
boots
knee-high
and full lashes

all
eyes
on...

her.

She
made us stop
and take notice
She
made me wish...

wish my breast could know the sun
the same way this girl
knows danger -
the way she plays with fire
Igniting flames in the snugged parts of each man she passes
Inhaling the howls
and sipping on the heavy pants
sloppy
wet

glossy

I watch the
spectacle from afar
soaking in my own
mire of insecurities and
wondering

How much that kind of freedom would cost...

On any given rainy day,
how many pennies would I have to save
to buy that kind of power
with legs closed?

The Suffering

This one started with a thought ('a woman swollen with love poems') and flourished from there...



The Suffering

The night is deep and wide -
An artery
Pulled and bleeding

Tonight is a dirty mirror
and he is a man
staring into the face of someone who
once loved a woman
swollen with love poems

She was a damsel - in wreck
And he wore armor for just one night

After the fire
He was no hero
Just dessert
Merely a line in one of her poems
blood on her teeth

He did not put up a fight
welcomed the suffering

At daybreak,
she grew wings
and left
But not empty-handed

She took a rib.