Guest poet

It's been awhile since I've posted. That's because I've been so busy trying to promote my book as well as attempting to be signed by a literary agent. Hopefully now within my busy schedule I can get back on track.

I'm proud to present, for the first and hopefully many times over a guest poet. My first guest poet's name is Lynnette Powell but goes by the powerful handle of Latifah. Her work is powerful, heart felt and not for the faint of heart. Keep an open mind and feel her pain.

"Time and time again" (Africans not your friend)
Time and time again
I ask simple questions
trying to be your friend:
But now I've learned;
Your friendship
cannot be earned!
                                          * * *
Why? Why? Must I ask?
Does being your friend
Mean kissing your ass?
                                          * * *
Tell me
what is the act?
Should I ride you
like you ride the white man's back?
I'm so angry and sad
that before I do that:
I'd rather have a fucking heart attack!
And what I'm expressing
is not no bullshit rap!
                                           * * *
It's so damn sad
And such a shame!
When blacks keep playing
the white man's game!
                                           * * *
There's no more being told verbally
what to do!
Because we do everything
On an unconscious cue!
                                           * * *
They can barely talk
barely read!
Yet they have the nerve to act
as if they don't bleed!
                                           * * *
Like they're over here doing us a favor!
It's funny
ignorance won't allow them to understand the flavor!
Like the looks of African Americans
can't be savoured!
                                           * * *
We're the sweetest fruit upon this earth!
Because of our ancestors
we are the cream of American Black Birth!
                                           * * *
Stop forgetting
It's because of us!
That your able to come over here
and ride a bus!
So what's the big fuss?
I guess its that Africans
have no trust in us!
Shit like that
makes me wanna cuss:
Yet I write in my book
that's a must!
                                            * * *
Or I take it to GOD!
Who I know would never rob me
Of who I am
Or where I'm from!
Because GOD is the CRUST!
And never the CRUMB!
                                                   By Latifah

Good looking!!!

I made my first sale of my new book, "Life: A murderer's love story". Thanks to my man big Bruce. Thanks a lot. I really appreciated that.
I'm a poet who writes hood novels. I use these novels just like I use my poetry. They're a vent for my pain and emotions, some would say the blood lust and malice that lurks in their hearts. But that's the beauty of writing, we can take all the hurt, pain and darkness within us and turn it into something beautiful and promising, instead of turning our lives into something destructive and senseless.
Poets and writers alike come and join me and support our works.
"Life: A murderer's love story" available @ www.createspace.com/3676589 or http://www.amazon.com/

"Who done it?"

"Women who wasted their emotions over the years became mean black women. Disillusioned. Frustrated. Powerless in their own lives, living with wounded souls." -Unknown

"Who done it?"
Who wounded you?
Who caused you to waste your emotions?
Who took your power and made you mean,
disillusioned and frustrated?
Who made you hate?
Hate so much that I want to hate you.
Who took a heart full of love and turned it into
a void deep abyss?
A black cesspool, metaphorically stenched
and sewn with the scent of piss.
Who took my woman and gave me a bitch?
Who took my well of wealth once rich
and overflowing
And replaced it with a heart in a trench with views
that only leads to a roadside ditch?
Who took your soul,
twisted it, corrupted it
and turned it black?
Not the beauty of black
but the dearly departed light of happiness,
the darkness of a crooked heart.
Who touched you and filled you with pain?
Who birthed misery and made wickedness your gain?
Who took my fire,
left you scorned and with out oxygen for your flame?
Who left you cold, unreconciling
and devil admiring?
Who made you poison
When you were once life?
Who desecrated
who was once to be my wife?

"Until my eyes open"

I don't want to wake from this sleep that I'm in.
This sleep I'm in
Protects me from the hurt of yesterday
And surely the pain that would face me today.
This sleep I'm in
Makes me feel like you're still here
And it would only be until my eyes opened
that I would realize that you were never there.
A dreamless darkened sleep
where my consciousness cease
and my war is at peace
and love doesn't have to be deceased.
This sleep I'm in
doesn't remind me that I can no longer hold her
because sheep took over
and days awake without her is simply colder.
This sleep I'm in
warms my nights with fantasy sin
and a remembrance of lovin'.
This sleep I'm in
Is all I have until my eyes open.

Temptation

Years ago, my cousin entered one of my poems, "Foreplay before sex", into a college poetry contest. She went on to winning the contest. She wanted to give me credit but I told her that she didn't have to. I would prefer if she kept the credit for herself. Today, females show me that foreplay before sex is still dominate. A woman had me sucking her  nipples and tasting her juices while her friend watched, but she wouldn't let me enter her. It was devilishly wicked. It was one of the most fun experiences that I had, but it was pure torture, in a good way. I was caressing her ass and playing with her pussy and doing everything in my power to get her open and inviting, but she wouldn't give. My dick was throbing and wanting. Her clit was the proverbial carrot and the only thing that I wanted to do was lick, entice and seduce so that I could get on to the actual act of the final pleasure but long fingers and nails were keeping me at bay.
It was a struggle but the sweetest wrestle. She said maybe next time we would go further. Honestly, I must admit that it was truly an enjoyment just to build the anticipation and I truly can't wait to enter but what she gave was gratifying.
Not always is the greatest hell the wickedness and vindictiveness of another, sometimes it can be the sweetest temptations that is held in view but just out of touch.
The journey continues.

The reasons for the greatest hell.

The greatest hell is situations that you can't take back. And I'm caught up in a bunch of situations that I can't take back. Everyone tries to live a life with no regrets but I am beginning to see that that is almost impossible. We can be thankful for everything that we go through because it fashions and shapes us in to who we are supposed to be. But what about who we became? Who we are? I had and have a most promising future, but my past hinders me.
I want to say that everything will be okay and everything will get greater later, but to say all that and to mean it takes great sacrifices on my behalf and the behaves of others. In this case, I have no control over the behaves of others, so I can only speak on mine.
I'm in a situation where I have to think and take care of the well being of myself and my two daughter because the mother of my children thinks just because I'm here and she foots the bill for all the finances that she doesn't have to take part in the raising of our children, mine and hers. I'm a father to her son when she doesn't wants me to be.
But her son is the brother of my daughters and his father is not there for him like he is supposed to be. By me being here I can't even be a father to my own son that is down south. But I'm working hard to establish that relationship with him.
Ultimately for me to be there for everyone that I'm supposed to be there for, I have to cut everyone off and be there for God and myself. I have to put god in my life before I allow anyone else in my life and I'm not talking about the church. I'm talking about god himself.
I have to allow him to do what needs to be done in my life so that I can move on to do what needs to be done in the life of others. I'm working hard but I'm also working alone, but as I have god I am never alone. Thank y'all for listening.

"Simply treat me as a man"

Simply treat me as a man.
For centuries they called me a savage.
Not even a creature, but a beast below average.
Man made rage
Created due to a process of being held for so long in a cage.
We didn't have an opportunity of choice,
Of whether or not we wanted to be here.
You said our language was nothing.
You chose not to hear our voice.
To us, you turned a deaf ear.
When we learned your language
And you became civilized
You chose to divide, brainwash us
And fill us with lies.
To the ones who didn't have fear
You said they had too much power and didn't deserve to be here.
 You took away our chiefs and our leaders
Because you felt this was the only way
You could beat us.
Then turned around
And chronically poisoned our women's fetus.
Ironically, after you felt your guilt
You asked how should you treat us?
One man stood up
As he began slowly dying on his feet
He said, "Simply treat me as a man".
After that
Your whole nation stood up
And said,
"With out me, how would you stand?"

A good morning

The morning started on a good note. I became the semi-finalist in a poetry contest that I had entered about a month ago and I just mailed out the letter to allow publishing of my poem in the contests book. I'll have to get back to y'all later in the comments to let y'all now what contest and the book that my poem will be published in.
Speaking of books, I've been saying for a while now that I have just finished editing the book that I wrote. "Life: A murderer's love story". I've been looking around like crazy for a literary agent to pick me up to solicit my work, but I guess the impatience has gotten the best of me because I went ahead and went with the self-publishing route at createspace.com. I put my work up and finished all the detailing, now it's just a waiting game as my works is in review. Wish me luck!!!

Violation

Dealing with someone that you don't like any more is the greatest hell. Having to have to face this person when you know that betrayal lies in your past, present and future is beyond the feelings of hell. She's a traitor, a deceiver, a seller of dreams.
Daily, I am called a liar or story teller and honestly I take pride in that because I acknowledge that this is the craft that I want to perfect, but what of the one who has no ambition of excelling in the art of story telling. I look upon them and wonder are they just pathetic or do they actually care enough about me to lie to my face. Please believe, it is not insecurities that leads me to speak as an authority in this arena, but it is the experience of love filled passionate liars of my past that allows me to see through the fraudulent ways of an inexperienced, nosy, pathetic and unimaginative being who is so filled with their own insecurities and low self esteem that leads me to recognize when someone is trying to crush you because their own petty existence isn't worth the time to breathe imagination. But yet, I am still here painting a mural to their loneliness.
I'll drink to their sorrows and will pray that their oxygen will birth me happiness.
To the lonely hearts.

Still a struggle

Another day of still typing away in the searches for a literary agent that can connect me to the publisher that can help launch me into the literary world where I belong. Wish me luck.

I started this blog to air out all the dirty laundry that goes on in my head that I don't believe should be shared on facebook.
Poetry was the first vent that I ever had to just let all things go. But some days i don't feel poetic. Some days I just want to say how I feel so I guess that's what this blog is really about. To see how many ppl feel the things that I feel.
This morning started on a hitch. My BM that don't appreciate the goodness of a man started her usual ranting, but I endured and now I'm happy because she has left and I got to pull out my boo boo's first tooth.
And I'm saving it. now that was almost the coolest thing ever. lol

"The message"

"The message"

We saw this life as plain and beautiful.
It became critical
when we made this game a ritual.
It's a shame we do the things we do
Just to live this life we go through.
You got niggaz bustin' at you
And you bustin' back
for a common dollar.
Now you sittin' in cells at night
just wantin' to holla.
In the beginning it was all sweet,
making G's a week,
pushing all types of whips,
looking forward to out of town trips.
Now your highlights
Are commissary trips and A to Z visits.
You used to look forward to hopes and dreams
Now you watch your back for the next nigga to scheme.
This life's about cream
from beginning to ending.
We only caught the message
that the devil was sending.

"Two hearts"

"Two Hearts"

Two hearts meet,
But only one gives
The other bleeds and breeds greed
Their relationship is hemorrhaging affection
But with different direction
Correction,
It's totally opposites not connectin'
Opposites without attraction
Contractin' not like labor
But pain like labor and contractions
Pretentious actin' in love affairs
And pseudo careers.
But when it's just us two hearts here
Your hearts still bitter and tainted
Like two intimidating dark hearts were standing by
And we're two hearts scared
You bring my open-heart fear.
You keep us read(red) and exposed like two hearts bare
We're two hearts with no place here,
Or together.