-
mouth
window
lampshade
speaker
murmur
dress
stranger
maroon
church
tire
-


marooned on islands of fear
i spun tires in mental quicksand
light blocked out by lampshades of insecurity
until he arrived and
i took mass in the church of his mind
saw myself in the windows of his eyes
and found peace in murmured whispers from
mouths speaking languages stranger than fiction
til dressed only in the honesty of my skin
i was reborn in his religion

I.
door opens.
i greet destiny
with come-hither glances
in red satin pajamas
flickering candlelight makes
shadows unite
on walls
two forms merging
one tangled outline
lips to ears breathing
whispered desires.
an invitation to dance…

II.
body pressed into wall
strong arms hold me up
we bite at each other
ravenous
ravaging
each inch of skin
strangulations
hands on neck
mouth over lips
stealing breath
from the depths of my lungs
break embrace
to taste his skin
warm and sweat-slicked on my tongue
exhalations of
'i need you now'
obliged by
backwards motions and
discarded clothing
backs of my knees
cocked over his shoulders
i am insatiable
but he fills me up
impregnates womb with seeds of desire
while intensity climbs to a feverish pitch
melting bodies into one another
no longer separate entities
a soul-ar eclipse
the sun rises in the moon
to give birth to the stars
and we collapse

III.
drunk from sex funk
hanging thick in the air
no words needed for we
communicate mentally
i am him and he
has become me
skin sticking and
limbs interwoven
dizzy head finds the pillow
of his rising chest
lulled to sleep by beats of heart
i close my eyes
to count the stars.

(collab - chaotix and abiona)

I write because my emotions once tried to cripple me.
Forming translucent bars meant to imprison me,
But my pen is the tool that set me free.
Breathing new life into me, releasing god's essence inside of me
So that my words live eternally as children of light.

erasing the darkness that crowded corners of my heart
and giving birth to the dawning of a new sense of self
And each tap of my pen to page incites palpatations that drown out
afrika bambatas planet rockin
Making similies breakdance from my mind to the tip of my toungue
beat boxin with metaphorical mental masturbations
impatient, i can no longer hold back the ink that flows
Lacing oral orgasms, screaming spasms with aural penetrations
Ejaculating ink until it stains the walls of your conscious yellow
Never apologizing for the accident or my speed
With minute men processing pens as bayonets and
tapdancing on your minds eye
I write to seek new futures
So I pray it displays the possbility
The destination of divinity
woven into the subconscious and brought forth by these words
i write to be heard
Testing the plausibility of the false prophets
Reliving pages of corruption
Seeing that my qu'ran is written backwards
I see why jihad is sanctioned
when i read from it with a mirror
to flip the image back to its proper reflection
the reality of subjection
Judgement is calling me home
Ground zero
This is the center stage
post-modern apocalyptic battle ground
fortold by the ancients and ignored by the wolves
Gene-splycing ash and concrete to create the titans of a new era

the second-coming, ushering a new age of big brother
where jesus preaches terror alerts and patriot acts.

No just a misrepresentation of arcane symbology
Bush isn't burning from holy fire
His daughters gave him VD
political syphilis birthing wicked philosophies

"Does it burn when you pee?"

"Are you another victim of conservatively brainwashed
normality?"

No, I just flaunt homosexuality with over 200 nuclear erections
and the sodomy of middle eastern nations but petrol eases entry and the
pain is quick


pimpin my harem of eurocentric prostitutes on the
corner of the UN
But france won't turn tricks
They just wipe out faith of youth to face conformity
Fallacy reigns supreme
a plague destroying moral obligations of powerful
nations
Leading to the dismantling of empires
And america is the nympho with the balls to do it
inevitable fall of civilization as we have come to know
it
The whore of babylon has arisen
replaced with a new world order run by sheep in wolves
clothing
Cavorting with corruption casually birthing death from a womb
plagued with light
Fertile minds have suffered famine
And may the poetic revolutionaries ressurect these sullen
dreams
speaking nutrients into swollen bellies fed from our
pens

and restoring sight to masses blinded by sharecropper
propaganda
Building resistace to the plight the future brings
We give wings to the faceless generations yet to come

We sing an unchained melody
to the tune of 'breakups to makeups'
shackled together for four long years by
lyrics that should have been long forgotten.
Lost in a performance where
inconsequential endings give way
to reprecussional reprise
when your voice holds audience with my ears.

It was, after all, your song
which first made me dance
in rhythms i had once deemed unimaginable.
Your song, which first made me tremble
in the reverberations of its bass.
And here you are again,
singing to me and beggin for a listen.

I see you have yet to lose your touch.

And I wonder.
How long will it last this time.
Before the music gets too loud
and one of us flies away.
Because we are like children, you and I,
afraid of our own reflection and
prone to run the moment we begin
seeing ourselves in each other.
And yet we remain,
inexplicably tied together
by a bond that prevents us from
straying too far.

For though we may wander,
we always seem to find the path home.
And so I contemplate us,
back at the beginning.
Again.
Two fickle songbirds
trying so hard to harmonize.
Because apart, our songs
do not sound as sweet.

So tell me, my love,
are we finally complete?
Can we
abandon the breadcrumbs and just
find our way home together?

-
pensive
vortex
hauteur
veneer
anxiety
belie
aesthetic
ruin
contemplate
regard
-

pensive thoughts belie
a carefully constructed veneer
facade of hautuer, i
regard myself in mirror images
propgation of this
confident aesthetic
to mask the anxienty of
what lies in wait
i contemplate
vortex of ruin lurking beneath the surface

"Young Virgin Autosodomised by her own Chastity"


open window

Splayed open like windows but
trapped by their sills
She is
pin-pricked by life's ills
societies pin-cushion
this
image of perfection
fucked from all angles by
bodiless demons of self-hatred
stripping off mechanisms
layered in defense
and
clothed only in truth
standing before a world she cannot embrace
her chaste purity
nothing but a farce
hiding behind the guise of innocence
She is
a victim of self-negligence
masking stabbings of past pain with
a perfectly shaped smile
ample breasts and
flowing hair
concealing wounds that don't bleed
into views from picture windows
out of which she leans
begging for someone to
look beyond
porcelain lips and
sculpted hips to see
shattered disjuncture looming behind
ripping apart skin and
burying the soul
She is
standing at the window
praying to be set free

pensive
vortex
scissors
picturesque
anxiety
cushion
ear
ruin
sanctity
project
-

Mother may I
take five scissor steps forward
Stumbling from sanctity's vortex and
running down white walls of sterility while
moniter beep anxiety projects madness into ears
watching the picturesque slumber
of empty shells cushioned by pillows of pills
and unanswered pensive pleas of loved ones
offered to white coated wolves in labs clothing
leading lambs to slaughter in the bowels of endless hallways