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To understand my words, you must understand my mind. |
| This Blog book is a dedication to my thoughts In poetry. Each log will express my thoughts through poetry, hopefully to enhance my art. I hope you enjoy |
| She steps on to the wooden flow Dripping Caught in the rain Eyes burning Obsession Vehemence Can you feel it in the air? Staring into him The hairs stand on the back of her neck There’s that feeling Her white tank top soaked Perked nipples visible now He stares with fervor Licks his lips Hungry Longing to Taste She bites her lip Like a slow front Using time to tease Temptation’s game played Puddles mark her trail to passion The rain outside Soothing Yet can not calm the storm inside The coalesce of fronts The atmospheric pressure Contortion between thin linen sheets Like a winding sheet Smothered in each other Humidity rises Heat index augments Rain sets the rhythm As their love becomes an elated melody A symphony of dog days Feel the rain drops falling down All over my love I want the rain to come There bodies a heap of moisture The amalgamation of perspiration and precipitation Her body rolling like thunder in the hills His thrusts like lightning Their zeal as powerful as hurricane winds They battle through the storm Energy congests the room Center of pressure Climatic motions Last lightning bolted in fury The rain dies down The sun seems to break through Light escapes closed blinds Flowing through the room Peaceful clamor from cheerful birds Love sets in as eyes begin to close The calm after the storm To understand my words, you must first understand my mind. Balik737 |
| Consider the logic of autonomy Why translucent trust in your triumphant self Be fully aware of your passion and know your wealth It starts in the heart and flows through the mind And in mine you know I’m prime To create a rhyme that will have you still in time Frozen into place until introspection rearrange your space And give you room to fall from Babylon’s gates To walk the streets free of stigmas and stereotypes To be a man and not a series of numbers To know when you are stumbling without the world seeing Believing in the idea of contentment Being synonymous to happiness Because the presence of wealth don’t regard your health Breathe in free air Breathe in free air Breathe free |
| given the nature of affection I look into the other direction as you cause me to think of things that should not be thought Certain conversations should not have wrought my consciousness should not have caught me blind-sighted and benighted by what I was taught i try to not think about you even though you are all that is there to be there and i know that what I think should not be but I should not have seen what is there what this is is called a tangent a confused babble and now i am lost within my own thoughts yet found in your eyes as I look at you looking at me and wonder why |
| I walk alone My face chilled by desolate February winds left over from the 14th my hands cold longing for another hand to warm them what is it that I am looking for If what I want is love then it is as simple to obtain as fish in the ocean or sand in the Sahara Yet, although boastful in mind dolorous in sight and my eyes don't lie to you even if they do lie to me Look into them and let them show you what is real in me Lonliness |
| Smiles delicate as petals blowing in the wintry wind Eyes as soft as the appearance of snow yet just as cold She seems to need me now Constantly I ride wit my niggas through innercity streets totin innercity heat flowin to innercity beats walk into the spot see more ass than a seat let the vodka flow gotta get mo' gotta flip mo' shit than a little bit playin spades with thoroughbreds can't get it in my head why I left this life in the first place Can feel my heart race as that pretty brown across the room smiles at me slyly foxy brown wit thick brown got dat vibe that get you thinkin... She stares at the images flashing as a dream ice watering her tastebuds as they fight numbness from gin he never loved me she says introspectively looking through her phone hoping that someone would call to let her know she is loved The night is still young shorty shorty too drunk to chill got her back in her room wants me to stay at get a thrill but I gotta get back to my own crib don't want regrets on my conscious but it was great while it lasted reach into my pocket feel the wrapped piece of plastic go back to my room where the night gets real placid now that I'm here Let me be real I'm so alone in my world try to be a playa but all I really want is a girl scratch that, woman that will make me feel better than did with her cause if i don't find her than mistakes are what is made and I refuse to go back so I can only go forward only God knows where that leads but what is behind me I don't want anymore |
| eyes, like those of wolves, seems to turn green. I follow vibratic lies like a lamb as the lion lies beside me in peace. Yet, still it is not as fabrications stir my thoughts, catered to paranoia, provoking me to lose myself in comfort and find myself inebriated off the devil's blood; cup of fellowship passed from Judas. My eyes loses their innocence. My world seems to fall as trumpets sound: like exclamation of loyalty, like sweet cherub laughter, like proclamations of unconditional. All intwined, All seen through glazed eyes. |
| Here I am, bastard again, lost in a world of covetous sin, contained by the demise of values within, I contend I am no match for the fury that dwells within the pits of my being so hungry that I crave maggots in the mind of the righteous feast on their conscience so sight or morality is lost in an introspective fallacy of contingency. Within the night I lose sight of myself my heart on a shelf too high to steal away to Jesus so I'm left cold and alone to fight my own battle one man army fighting the hordes that seems to find joy in the demise of my soul nevermore will I be whole just a shell of a man whose thoughts leave him stigmatized in hand and looking to the hills for salvation to appear. seen the promiseland, yet know I won't get there with the rest of them I've always tried to better even the best of them but seemed to be put to trial and judged by the rest of them they want me dead like John the Baptist Nubian Princesses are calling for my head it's not enough that my eyes seen so much hurt, they've bled a thousand times blood clearer than the water Christ turned to wine I see the sign my time is steadily coming to an end and I will be standing there in judgement listening to my sins and thank bastard for his curse and hope my bastard does not receive because bastardy is hereditary and so is the world in which they are conceived |
| her skin the color of cocoa beans finely aged in an ancient sun smooth as if spread of vast lands by God's hands I am addicted to touching her with each innocent stroke of her skin each moment to brush away mischievous hairs that fall strategically out of place at the right moment staring deep into beautiful brown eyes and lose myself within elusive sentiments a smile that is heaven-sent as if the essence captured in kodak style and sculpted by dieties on this brown-skinned beauty a style and grace so precarious it could cause my demise as I walk blinded by the shape of her thighs something that I can't describe her beauty plagues my thoughts and haunts my dreams I am vulnerable only because I don't deserve her I am insecure only because I might love her I am hopeful only because I have nothing to lose I am infactuated only because I chose not to |
| maybe I should tell her? Maybe I should take her hand, soft as the constant roar of calm beaches or the whispers of euphoria that escape my lips and subsist in the fabric of time, and lead her mind to my heart, so that she may hear how it still beats for her maybe I should look into her eyes, let my guard down so she can see my vulnerabilty, let my emotions play like a montage of personifications, consistently showing my inner-most visions of souls meant to intertwine and become refined within a love aged through past lives maybe i should touch her lips with my own and fufill prophecies told by my mind... To understand my words, you must first understand my mind. Balik737 |
| Black Vodka ice cranberry juice sweet and sour mix fustration recipe for infidelity dare I drink such elixers mixtures of despondency creations to cause elation which causes fornication so many times before said I quit but similar to cigarrettes she works your brain like nicotine so addiction finds me in between cotton linen and her thighs Black Vodka glazing my eyes soft hands hardens manhood as passion rise and love has no place in the air as lovers lie To understand my words, you must first understand my mind. Balik737 |
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