You are viewing wordsongs415

Singin' for Change...

street life, wordsongs, african american, poetry, visual art

Tags:

Dancin lady on da Street

street life, wordsongs, african american, poetry, visual art

Tags:

One Bouquet, of as we lay

street life, wordsongs, african american, poetry, visual art

I have been waitin'... to touch you gurl
but I can't wait too long
my heart it hurts
my hand is strong
yo' thick redbone lips
make me wanna
Spin the bottle, spin the bottle, spin the bottle
'cause my heart it hurts
& my hand is strong
the days are hott
the nights are long
like the thickness
'tween my thighs

sometimes your eyes say
"
He is like the night."
& your lips, so thick
don't know what to say
as you gaze at me
your bottom lip hangs
like niggaz on a corner
hittin' weed & havin' fun
holdin' blunts & singin' songs
that are long like the night
& the thickness
'tween my thighs
drankin' cups of sin
on the rocks
playin' dat same ass tune
My sidewalk on Saturday Night Fever
I don't wanna let you...slide away
but I don't want to seem too eager
I jus' wanna be me...wit' you
sprawl my thoughts of forever
on the blades of your garden
I wanna be your "Hotchocolate Mandingo", Ndada
However, I was called upon with flaws
at least that's what some would say
& I wanna love you
how I am lovin' myself...today
I wanna be touchin' you
how I am touchin' myself... today
as I lay
along my bed
I lay alone...alone I lay

Tags:

Downtown San Francisco

street life, wordsongs, african american, poetry, visual art


I find it's betta
2 lay down all my burdens
right where I am at

Flesh of my flesh (first draft)

street life, wordsongs, african american, poetry, visual art


If time is my father
& the earth is my mother
then how do I as the Son
keep shinin'?
From the very first minute that time began
& the Lord blew life
into the nostrils of man,
time has decimated my mother.
Not once, not twice,
but thousands of times
& I, who have risen from the dust of her soils
to become this
which is, what I am.
I am her world,
yet she revolves around me.
Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood.

From the flesh of my flesh, and the blood of my blood,
I have learned to abuse my mother.
With war and pollution,
in so many ways
it seems no solution
can rectify the wrongs, that I have done
& it seems I have failed her as a Son.
Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood.


I was born in gravy

street life, wordsongs, african american, poetry, visual art

The dark seas
of the Indian Ocean breezes
like a river running nose.
Lions roar, while hyenas feast
with carmine teeth
on niggas with no lips nor legs.
Ancient trees mourn
                                                                         swaying
left to right.
Caterpillars cocoon into monarchs,
but my niggas...
may never know the form of black MEN.
Someday we will change-prison
concrete; cold like rainy nights
December shanks plank flesh,
with fire from a cold hell.
Crisp hat, white, crooked-to the side.
A indistinct individual amongst ants
scurrying inside a highway of swamp tar.
I WAS BORN IN GRAVY!!!
I knew niggas that flew
from the womb
into the wind like silverbacks.
Spiraling down a gnarled macabre-fastened road
searchin' for red-white-blue
rainbows, behind a desolate moon.
They crawl,
under the sidewalk of righteousness
& breathe only the air
of the skanless.




title inspired by a childrens book.

My Sidewalk on Saturday Night Fever

street life, wordsongs, african american, poetry, visual art


Cool, slate gray with crevices
decaying corners.
Curbs collect empty sodah-watah cans,
beer bottles with winos attached,
watch the show on Broadway
as the wind whispers a song:

                              It's no place like home.
                              It's no place like home.
                              It's no place like home.

Debris doing pirouettes,
like Jared the Junky's mind.
Urinating in his pants.

Skidmarks etched from stiletto heels,
beckon for help unheard.
"What's the word?"
The liquor store painted
crimson, minus the acrylic.
Sadie stabbed
Manolo last night
for having sex
in the kitchen with her homegurl.
The frigid cement
gave him rest,
as his blood
navigated the pavement
down the sewer.

Miss Mabel
leanin' on her ledge
waters ferns,
sighs:
It's been 87 years
& it still hurts
to see one of her plants die.

My Brown Strawberry

street life, wordsongs, african american, poetry, visual art

My brown strawberry
so down
so very sensual
so sexual
you saturate my eyes
with a waterfall of satisfaction

Ms Diva sportin' Baby Phat
Twistin' strands of braided brown hair
around scarlett fingertips
restin' palms on willowtree hips
Those eyes they kiss my skin
& send sensations like sake
shootin' thru me
I want you
to want me
the same way that I want
your brown strawberries

So round
so very sensual
so sexual
you send my eyes slitherin'
down delicious lady lumps
like frost off a can of cola
on the hottest day in California
I wipe my sweat
& whisper Hallelujah

Cause you make me wanna holla
but I don't
& you make me wanna touch you
but I won't
What I will do
is feel you like you be feelin' me
cause you recognize my struggle
when I am out there in them streets
With that gun out in them streets
But why am I out there in them streets
if I'm not runnin' to you
my brown strawberry

So saucy
so very...Supa-fine
supa-cool...but nothin' superficial
You makin' moves
to show & prove
so I sho' can't hate yo' hustle
'cause I recognize that struggle
that me against the world
mentality
that, "I'm ah feed my babies by any means necessary!"
That ,"I'm  ah take the rap like Lil' Kim,
& keep it solid."
That, "Aint nothin' gonna break my stride,
aint nothin' gonna hold me down,
oh hell no, 'cause I'm a keep it movin!"
That is whats so soothin'
although some may think that you're a square
your heart is so well rounded
& when a brotha come home from prison
you soak me in your arms
to keep me grounded
like roots deep in the soil
sometimes we toil at becoming one
but we are so close knit
the only thing that can rise
from between us
is a Son
My  brown strawberry
so down
so very...sensual
so sexual
you saturate my eyes

I want change

street life, wordsongs, african american, poetry, visual art

Tags: