Even during toilet visits…
Some are made to feel,
They are revealing secrets slipped.
With a plop that drops in a fizz.
Suspicions become more of an interest,
When done!
Than that business after conducted,
From the one that does it is!
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You can not walk in my shoes
Nor can you look over my shoulder,To perceive your accomplishments!Nothing that I’ve done,Materialized just on wishes.You want an easy ride.Without hard work done…Or tears to cry!You want a smooth and clear path,With time to joke and time to laugh!They may call this business the creative arts!But the creative part about it…?How to sustain a sanity…
When truth is identified,
A familiarity of it exists.And it can be seen,In the eyes of everyone.Those still clinging onto ‘conditions’Have been taught to look away.Either they cast their eyes to the ground…Or something hidden,Has been done!Or perhaps an unconsciousness,For them has been delayed.Once truth is discovered…It’s rather difficult for it,To be secretly betrayed.It’s there like fresh air!Unpolluted truth…
I can not imagine my life without you.
After I’ve been using two!Or kissing with one lip.I know I wouldn’t enjoy it!And to have no tongue?My close ties with God,Would have to be undone!Until He decided,I am deserving of another one.With full lips to kiss.And two legs to chase you…When your teasing persists!I can not imagine my life without you.Especially when I ‘let’…
I alone allowed…
And would ask and get advice,Whenever I felt enticed by gloom!I gave them room to display defeat.With a hollowness inside that creeped.As I peeked at success that shied away,And stared…From a distance it often teased and glared.Then I began tripping and slipping on my own faults.Opening wounds…To pour my own salt!Then it became too clear,I…
They wished to dig up dirt.
To reveal that first.I knew I was far too deep for them.And while they dug a hole…Seeking something dark untold,I was producing an excellence unknown.To surround and enclose them in!My mama did not raise any fools.Although I admit…I enjoy the act of it!
I’m not trying to be Maya,
Or digest Langston’s treasures…To outdo the views of Mister Hughes.But poets who can show emotions,With insights known isn’t easy to pursue.These are the ones,Who can do it making sense.Inspirations they are…With a knack to pen a clarity,Once covered and thickly dense.I am not trying to be a James Baldwin,Or write the way an August Wilson…