Juniper’s Toss Up

Juniper play


A peek of the red lace fluffed from my blouse. London plaid skirt clung to my waist… then pleated down my upper thigh. Black knee-length combat boots..tightly laced. My hair pulled back in rippled ponytail and bright red lipstick. I carried my favorite Burberry Journal just to top the look off.  It was my ode to Great Britain.

Not my usual attire for the library, but I knew he’d be there. His monthly lecture on “The New Developments In Medicine.” was just wrapping up.. The stiffs, shuffling out the room. Stale musky air on their backs. Tan and Beige wool coats..gray and blue polyester slacks, and wide flat leather shoes.

When they leave, I shout “So, is this your way of getting more money?…Clever” I snare; with a half raised smile.

“Of course not.” he remarks (slyly) “You know me better than that.”

I laugh…”Exactly.”

“So, how have you been?”

“Just fine sir… Simply Dandy.”  while spinning and giving him a whirl of my skirt.

“I see that”…he smiles.

Gathering his things, he moves closer. “So.. (lingering) What can I do you for?”

“Hmm.” I smile.  “I just came by to see you. Can’t I do that?

“Sure, but that’s not something that you ever do.”

(Giving him a naughty look, and folding my arms) “Oh..that’s not nice.  I’m always up to see you.”

“Right.” He adamantly sparks and walks away toward the rest of his stuff.

Acknowledging his tone, I ask..”Are you mad at me?

“I wouldn’t say that I was mad.  I’m just not into this game you keep playing.”

“What game?” I frown.

“The game where your all over me for a day or two..then I can’t get a hold of you for months.  Then you text me..or pop everything is fine.”

He shuffles his papers and books.

“It’s too much of a roller coaster. I told you I liked you, June.  But, if you keep doing this.   I don’t want to see you.”

“Aww, baby”..I pout.  I’m sorry. I guess I thought you were just talking..I didn’t think you were (THAT) serious.

“WHAT!” his voice raises.  “What do you mean..that Serious?!  June..this is not a joke.  We’ve been messing around for almost 2 years now.  Are you kidding?”

I nervously, chuckle.  “Nope…I’m not kidding.  I know we like each others company, but I didn’t want to assume it was more than that. Sorry, that’s  just what I thought.”

“Dammit” he whispers. Hovering over me and bending to my face. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Eye to eye, now.  “I’ve helped you all I can, Juniper..  I can’t do it anymore. Bye.” and  He heads for the door.

He’s serious.  I huff and exhale.  “Wait” I mumble uneasily.  Oh no, he is serious. “Wait!” I screamed; following behind him.  He turned and gave me the meanest look.

Back in my face…”Juniper! We are in a library!” he glances around..”This is my job and reputation, don’t do this, here.”  His lips were wrinkled and twisted..His voice was stern and bitter.

He was indeed MAD.

I touch his hand. Bow my head and say “I’m sorry. I’m very sorry”  in a soft innocent voice.

He looks at me, darts his eyes toward the door.. Yanks his hand away and turns.

Once he reaches the door, he motions for me to follow.

On his heels, I skip.

Around the back of the building and into the parking lot, we go.

He pops the trunk..throws his things in.and slams the hood. I stand silently the entire time..

He opens the back car door..”Get in!”  I look with wide-eyes.

“Kids sit in the backseat.” he said.

I brush pass him..and climb in.   He climbs in too.

On top of me..he laughs.  We both laugh.

“You sure you still want to be a doctor?” I ask.  Cause I think you’ll make an Awesome Actor!  You really had me believing you.”  (l laugh) Oh, my god.. I even got chills.”

We both crack up..

“Are you wearing panties?”

I smile. “What do you think?”


Enhanced by Zemanta
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: 10.0/10 (1 vote cast)
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: 0 (from 0 votes)

The Fisherman

Tackle Box
Pretty Feathers

Pretty Feathers Image Credit: Mantra Lotus

He ripped them off.  Plucked each turned feather..and ripped them off. Naked, and no longer able to sits; (she sits).  No longer beautiful, or priceless. Broken, shameful, and unwanted.

She once flew high..with bright magenta wings..Velvety blue crown with royal purple crest…soaring boundless, relentless, and elevated. Beautiful feathers she stretched wide. Proud for all to see.

While fishing he spotted the Rare, Radiant Beauty.  He vowed and made an adamant declaration,”I gotta have that bird.”  Arrogant and confident   “I WILL have that bird!”

She smiled from above delighted by the attention.

Everyday, he would go to the pond..with his bait, his sea-green tackle box and barely mended fishing rod.  He would pretend to be happily fishing.

Humming along with a cackling old radio.  He would bob his head and rock, smiling a toothy grin.

She thought him funny. “That noise is scaring the fish away, silly man”.

I’ll have to show him how it’s done.  She seductively flapped her wings, letting them drop softly, slightly tilting she drifted unto the pond water.   On the water she gracefully floated. Silently approaching her prey.  She bent her long beautiful neck and retrieved her jewel.

“Ah” replied the Fisherman.  Exquisite.   “Your beautiful.” he called out.

She fluffed her feathers in acknowledgement but quickly ascended.

High she flew. Gliding splendidly and free.

He watched her from below, with his hands relaxed behind his head, leaning back in his plastic lawn chair; entranced by her. He mentally recorded every movement. Memorizing every single part of her.  “I gotta have that bird”.

Everyday he returned..and everyday she taught him how to “properly” fish.

He soon started bringing gifts for her..that he would leave at the bank before his retire.

He would hide in the bushes to watch her response.  She would hop and dance with appeasement…

The Fisherman would pat himself on the back.

Eventually, he started putting the treats in his hand for her to come and get. She would dart fast but graceful to retrieve them then retreat back high.  But, gradually, she began to linger a bit longer.

One memorable evening, he mustered up the courage to touch her. So perfect she was to him.  So flawless, so religious, pious and magical. He tenderly reached out to her..She stiffened and prepared her defense (just in case) But, so gentle he was.. she grew weak and docile.

Affectionately he petted.  Devoting his attention to every feather.  He adored her; she knew it. She grew unafraid. She began to favor his touch and yearn for him every evening.  She anxiously waited for his return.

When he came to see her, he would instantly stretch out his hand…simultaneously she would come.  Quickly she flew, fluttered and descended.  Down to his hand she dropped.  Lowering her beautiful head..and he stroked her.  He would shiver; orgasmic.  She would sweetly fondle. Once it was over..she reluctantly flew away.

One day, he arrived.  He held out his hand and promptly she flew.  Instead, of caressing her with the opposite hand like before, he hurriedly covered her with a net. Wrapped her up in it and knotted the end.

Confused she fluttered..flapping hysterically, squawking and crying.

He gazed upon her, wet mouthed and flushed. Wide eyed he watched her struggle.  He then smiled and hushed her.  “Aww baby, it’ll be alright.  Just calm down, you’ll see.”

He grabbed the empty tackle box and the rest of his fruitless equipment and tossed it into the trunk while dangling her in the net. He eagerly placed her on the front seat beside him.

In horror, she watched.  His face now unfamiliar. Unrecognizable were his expressions. He bobbed his head to music, that she was deaf too.  He spoke of things she never heard of.

Frightened, she sunk and covered herself with her wings..  (only to discover that some of her wings had been lost in the struggle)..around her she saw pink fragments of what once was.

“We’re almost there baby.  YOUR Castle awaits!  I’ve been working on it ever since I met you.  You only deserve the best.  I know you’re gonna like’ll see.  Don’t worry. I’m gonna take good care of you” he said.

Once arrived..he nonchalantly yanked her out of the car..holding her up by the knot.  “Look, at it!  Isn’t it just perfect!”

She barely opened her eyes to view the monstrosity that he called a “Castle”.  A dark brown building with black bars on the windows..and the word “Castle” painted on the door.

She shrilled.  She flailed about..and begged to be taken back.  At no avail, he laughed.  “I didn’t know you were this feisty. I like it.”  Quiet she shuddered.

The inside was just as dreary as the out.  Very dimly lit with low ceilings. In the center of the room was a white metal cage.  He unloosed her and threw her in.  “You sit her for a while..until you calm down.  Are you hungry?”  (she answered  not)

“Is it warm enough for you?  Is it comfy?”  (she answered not)

Enraged, he began to pound the bars of the cage with his fist. He shook and rattled the sides..shaking her within.  “Did you hear me Birdy?!  I asked you a question? ARE…YOU…COMFY?! ” Yes! she shrieked.

“Well, alrighty then” he said. Snickering and mocking her.

For the next couple of days, he kept consistent watch of  her in the cage.  Studying her.  Admiring her.  Wanting her. Laughing at her.  Mocking her.  Intimidating her and breaking her.

She grew tired and hungry.  Lost and confused. It didn’t take long for her to give up.  She submitted fully.

During the day, he kept her caged up. At night he would let her out, but always tethered by her ankle .  She would fly into the ceiling, crash into the walls and windows. He would chuckle “Silly Bird”.

Sometimes, he would tie her to the bed posts and parade her from room to room.  Sometimes, he would force her to flutter her open them wide, wiggle them and dance for him.  “Show me your pretty colors” he would demand..(she would)

Anything he asked of her, she did.

Her colors began to fade. She was never allowed sunlight and never allowed to fly. Tragically, she soon forgot how.

Her feathers became thin and before long she turned completely gray.  Engrossed by her appearance and her lack of beauty the Fisherman resented her.  He resented her cage “in his space”.  He hated the rustle of her feathers.  He teased and mocked her.  Demeaned and beat her.  Belittled and torn she hid day-to-day, tucked in the corner of her cage.

Until, one day he left with the all too familiar sea-green tackle box, bent fishing rod, bait, and busted radio.

He taped a ripped note to her cage that read:

“Gone fishing.. (YOU) be gone when I come back”.

Enhanced by Zemanta
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: 10.0/10 (1 vote cast)
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: 0 (from 0 votes)

Death to Disappointment

Image Credit: uber-kid Rektchordz


Rummaging through the desk fingers plummeted deep beneath papers. Fingertips desperately searching, until I found it. A plain-white, unlined, notepad. Ferociously, I wrenched it from the drawer, and grabbed a glass jar of thumbtacks from the shelf. I quickly retreated to the kitchen. At, the far end..lie an empty wall; my firing target.

I threw the things on the kitchen table, yanked a black marker from my back pocket, and wrote erratically. I scribbled..then ripped. Scribbled then ripped… scribbling and ripping ..


…with tears melting into my cheek, I snatched the pages from the table, and pinned each one to the wall..a circle I formed…

Quickly, I ran to the bedroom closet, on top of a chair I climbed, tossing shoe boxes, scarves, clothes, purses, anything and everything that was in my way..I threw…until I found it… “Got it.”

On the floor fell the metal box..

Leaping down, I rushed to the corner of the room, near the bed, I knelt. Plucking away at the edge of a loose floor panel, I released the key.

With the box and key..I ran to the kitchen…dropped it on the table, opening, ..peering, “Beautiful.”

Firmly placed in hand, I gripped the silver gun..with my eye on the target I shot.

I shot..I fired..I shot..I fired.. I executed..I annihilated..I massacred, I obliterated, I assassinated, I slaughtered….I killed it all.

Disappointment lay dead. Ripped to shreds and riddled with bullets, on the cold floor.

Smiling, I blew the smoke from the tip of my piece, grabbed my purse and off to the market I skipped.

Enhanced by Zemanta
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: 10.0/10 (1 vote cast)
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: 0 (from 0 votes)

I Float


The Great Muhammad Ali

“I float like a butterfly and sting like a bee”

I tap-dance on moonbeams; bowing down at every tree..

Kicking over bulldozers in pink pumps…
… church blasting “Fergie‘s..My humps”

I shoot down the rain with the flick of my wrist..
….Now, who was that? That said..”Don’t quote me boy, cause I ain’ say shit”…

But..I did… I DID! and I always do..
….down for the cause, the earth and my people too.
But, not just the Earf..the Sun, the stars..
….Space.. them Pyramids that “they” say is on Mars..

I’m down like the “Roots” and the “Underground”..
….Sound that is.. the ish that they won’t play cause bull-ish is constantly set to replay.

“I float like a butterfly and sting like a bee”..
….cain’t NO Body mess wit me.

Tight like the “BluePrint” by Jay-Z.. FLY like Mos Def, Erykah Badu..
….and I’m kinda quite cute too.

“Say CHEESE” I’ll take a pic..
….while I tight rope on yo’ grand daddy’s walking stick. me now..
….this gon’ happen fast, it’ll soon be all over and you won’t know how..

…How I vomited in your face..
….purple voodoo all over the place.

See, I don’t get high just to get by,
…..I’m High (All the time) cause that’s just how I fly.

Ahh!.. I’m done..
.. and check it, I used my new hydraulic water gun..

…I gotta be honest I ain’t know what it was gon’ do..

… but I knew it was gon’ spit all over you

Enhanced by Zemanta
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: 10.0/10 (1 vote cast)
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: 0 (from 0 votes)

IT (A Halloween tale for the kiddies)

"The Possession"

Tucked away in the secret realm of the unseen and invisible…”IT” lives..

Deep inside the film of Butterfly wings…IT waits.

In between Rhinoceros toes IT creeps

Underneath Pot-belly pigs bellies IT sleeps

IT eats through the scales of Lizard’s legs and hula hoops in Giraffe’s spots

…..from puppy dog’s tails IT hangs and swings AND sways

Then, on the night before Halloween… when clouds are thick and gray..IT hitches a ride on the nearest eagles neck

and travels high… through dark skies

Stealthily IT lands at sunrise…

With double-quick speed, IT runs through tall grass then scales up the closest tree….

On a branch, stuck to the back of a beetle, IT clings,

IT rustles the leaves every time a child passes…

They cry out IT’S message: “Tonight, will be the night that I will give you a Terrible, Most Terrible, Fright..”

You pretend that you don’t hear, and hurry on by..a quick chill rushes though your bones; but soon disappears when you think of what is near…

Excitement bustles “Oew.. it’s Halloween!”

As the day passes; IT too is all a flutter, hopping along Rabbits paws, and clapping to the rhythm of Owls hoots…

“It’s almost time, it’s almost time, it’s almost time..” IT caws…and sings.

When the night settles in, IT dances it’s Rooster Dance… “Oew..oo..oo. oo..yea, yea…” clapping its hands ferociously.

“It’s time, it’s time.. It’s time”.

In a flurry IT rushes with haste…. It slithers up your front porch… to the right of the door it stoops… “nah, nah…not right.”IT peeps.

Scurrying to the left of the door, IT droops… (with hand in hand, diabolically twisting) cunningly grinning; IT anticipates…”Nah, nah, not right, either”.. IT hollers.

IT quickly scampers underneath the doormat.. “No!” IT shrieks, “They might step on me, nah, nah, not right”….

“I got it!” IT hisses… Fast. IT slithers up the side of the house, on top of roof; IT perches. In perfect view and reach of the front door, IT lingers….

IT watches….

IT breaths….

IT watches, and breaths, and sweats… and pants…


….the door creaks, the knob turns, light beams onto the porch… You appear in the doorway, decked out in your best costume…

Unaware of whats to come… You…

(IT smiles a smile so broad, that it stretches from each pointy ear to the next… IT leans in…)


You step one foot out…

IT leans further…

You lift the other leg… and down goes the final foot….

IT.. rises… and stretches…and spreads itself wide….with limbs outstretched…and claws erect.. then … IT leaps….




Happy Halloween..




Enhanced by Zemanta
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: 10.0/10 (1 vote cast)
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: 0 (from 0 votes)

Wit yo’ Sexy Self

Wit yo’ Sexy Self.

I reared back with my right hand on my hip. Sassy me. Flirty me. Big Girl ME.

“Umm. How you gon’ just brush up against me like that? and walk away?”

(Actually wanting to say) Umm? How you gon’ be smelling all good, lookin’ all good, brush up against me like that, and walk away?

I fluttered my eyelashes, and searched him from head to toe.

“Umm. E-xcuse me.” I know! You know..YOU just brushed up against me, and you had plenty of room to go around me!?”

He stopped. Turned around. Looked at me…and said,

“Yea. I know.”
Smiling Proudly, displaying THAT dimple on his left cheek.

With my back still reared back, and my right hand on my hip, I flashed my lashes and licked my lips..

Feeling my chest rise and my breath deepen..(Damn..I (c’aint) take this..I just wanna pounce on his back, and latch on to his beautiful neck and like a world-class wrestler..flip him in one spectacular move…and ride him..ride him like wheels ain’t been invented yet..I wanna ride him like we in the last days of our lives..Naw..Actually, I wanna ride him like the first woman rode the first man..(historical)..(ancestral) (ingenious)…clutching my teeth..I let out a “Sssss..” a low slither..Catching myself, I inhale and wipe my bottom lip..swallow and take a deep  breath..

“Oh, okay. I see how you are.
…with a swift turn of my neck and flip of my hair, I turned to leave… when….he…he suddenly…turned.. and said…

“You see how I am?”
…coming toward me….creeping, smooth, stern, strong, bold, broad, slowly… my face..So close, I could feel his breath..

“Hmph. Well, how am I then?”…..

Still licking my lips, I shyly smiled….

“Umm. You all-ight.”

(all the while thinking)
All-ight!?! Hell. Better than All-ight! Dang dude, you are…man…you are…the bomb (like ol’school)…you betta than my Converse Chucks, you betta than my favorite Indian Restaurant, you betta than my first high school crush, and the Cherry flavored Jolly Rancher. Shoot you betta than spandex, and my best push up bra… DAMN… I wanted to tell him that

…but..I stubbornly and bashfully, gently pushed him out of my face and said my famous…..

“Whateva” I’ll talk to you later.”

Umph. Umph. Umph… Wit yo’ Sexy Self.

Enhanced by Zemanta
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: 10.0/10 (1 vote cast)
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: 0 (from 0 votes)

To me

letter to me

Image Credit: Barbara German

A smile like yours won’t ever go- I won’t let it.

Truth: Seems like courage hasn’t been much of me, lately. A feather just hasn’t floated by or maybe I just haven’t noticed.
To be inspired when my spirit is already lit, is a bit tricky.
In and out of life, I fly.
Everyday passing, and Night after Night falling.

I dance my dance and hum my daily hymn.
My spirit paints my lips and colors my eye lids.
I shout love and laugh loud. I teach and guide. Humble and honest, peaceful and poised.

Yet, somehow limited in my everyday existence.
(I Ponder) Just how HIGH can I fly?
Will gravity send me falling?
Will a a flock of geese peck me down?
Will a bullet shoot me out of the sky?
Will Cupid’s arrow pierce my thigh and poison my mind and a stupor soon follow?
Will the evil doers flock beneath me and scream obscenities and lies, Will they throw flaming torches at me; just to steal my wings for themselves?

But, what if I manage to stay afloat. What if I fly so high that I’m too high. Will Creator send me back to my “rightful” place?
Will the clouds kick me down?
Will the Angels say “You don’t belong here”.

I’m Stuck for now…

Happy, Happy to be me. Happy-Happy to enjoy my own breath. Happy-Happy to see the placement of my feet in the morning. Lovingly awaiting the Sun; Proud.

When night comes flight awaits.

Enhanced by Zemanta
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: 10.0/10 (1 vote cast)
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: 0 (from 0 votes)



Today, my 9-year-old daughter came to me with a letter that she made of notebook paper. She folded the paper 3 times and stapled it in four corners until she made an envelope. In the left hand corner she made a picture of a stamp that had an arrow and stars on it. She addressed her envelope as “OUTERSPACE” P.O. BOX 000000 EVERYWHERE. On the back of her envelope you wrote in big, bold faced words. “KEEP, DON’T SEND BACK!

“Mommy, can you mail this for me?”

Of course, I asked my daughter what “the letter” was about. She responded by saying that she wanted to mail a letter to outer space because she knew that it would be heard. She said that she “told  OUTERSPACE that she wanted a new scooter, a puppy, $100,000.000 for her whole family, wings because she always wanted to fly, and she wanted everyone in the world to be nice to each other.”

Teary eyed, I watched my daughter. She wore this contagious glow upon her face and she beamed; “Mommy, I know I’m gonna get it, I know I’m gonna get it!”

Is it really that simple? Just how realistic is it to turn our dreams into something when they derived from nothing? Is it possible to create tangible realities from imagination? My daughter seems to think that it is. I too, used to believe that as a child. I can remember using piles of pillows for my Castle, a bed sheet for the most beautiful gown, and a shoestring for a crown. I can remember creating sidewalk masterpieces out of mud, rocks, and any little twig that I could find. I remember having the world at my beck and call and anytime I called “it” answered. The universe was open and receptive to me and “all” of my thoughts. I never doubted that what I wanted wouldn’t come true, I ‘KNEW” it would. With unwavering faith I wished and wished and the universe granted and granted.

I took my daughter’s letter and decided to add something to it of my own. On a heart-shaped sticky pad I wrote; “Gratitude, Abundance, Happiness, Acceptance, Humility, Peace, and Love. That’s all I ask.” I took the note and her letter and placed it in a business envelope with 4 stamps. I addressed it “OUTERSPACE” P.O. BOX 000000 EVERYWHERE. On the back of the envelope I put in boldface letters “KEEP! PLEASE DON’T SEND BACK…..THIS IS A LITTLE GIRL’S WISH!”

P.S. If our letter should happen to find you, Please don’t send back, just pass it on.

Namaste. Mantra.

Enhanced by Zemanta
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: 10.0/10 (1 vote cast)
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: 0 (from 0 votes)


Image Credit: Unknown
Image Credit: Unknown

Image Credit: Unknown

We ride on the backs and breast of those that have come before

On ancestor’s shoulders and great, great, great, daddy’s toes

With drops of frankincense and myrrh and rows of gold around our necks

We ride on ocean waves of blue blackness on top of undersea ancient temples imprinted

of our blue colored faces

We ride on Congo drum beats

with dancing moving hips and

breezy Blowing dreadlocks

on Cowrie shelled waist bead covered bellies

We ride on lion’s mane and canine teeth

On Elephant tusk and Zebra stripes

On library book covers

On wall filled Art Museum canvases

We ride in church,

in-between church pews and in the lines of church hymns

We ride on Egyptian tombs encased in limestone adorned with

(Us riding) in hieroglyphic text

We ride on guitar strings and thumb machines

In Paris, Korea, Alaska, and of course Mozambique

We ride through Southern towns pass southern trees

In Submarines, Rockets and Purple Ford Cadillac’s

with hydraulics and wheels that float on air

We ride on the lips of poets and the high pitch sounds of Opera singers

On the laps of Authors and the laptops of professors

We ride on the cheeks of babies and the smiles of playground playing children

We ride on the thick skin of plantains and the sweet of yam

We ride on lilies and bumblebee stripes

We ride on the baobabs trunk and in Kapiti plains playing peek-a-boo through high grass

We ride on internet webs and crowded emails

We ride on white-gold Aunk wedding bands with matching anklets

On Milan fashion walkways jet black and bald even at the nape

We ride in fubu, and Rocka wear, Baby Phat,

Green converse chucks, and Alonzo Mourning Jersey’s

We ride on corner store newspaper stands

On billboard fonts and 8 track cassettes

We ride on veggie burgers and spicy chicken wings

We ride right past death, right through heavens gates

We ride on waterbeds, the backs of futons, canopy ropes and hardwood floors

In Ma Ma’s basements, and Granddaddy porches and Uncle Eddie’s barbecue

We ride in Kitchen stews and Afua’s “Heal Thyself”

We ride on double-dutch ropes and pebbled filled hula hoops

We ride on Panther fists and Tupaks rap

On Afrikan Liberation Day and at the Million man March

We ride on Shaggy’s Bombastic and Michael’s “Thriller”

We ride on Kush’s thigh in Shiva’s arms

On Buddha’s Nubian Knots

With Rasta purple smoke and bouncing booty

and swinging ankle bells

We ride deep

We ride full

We ride high

We ride low

We ride “Tuff” and never ending

We ride deep

We ride Black and deep

We ride black

We ride black

Enhanced by Zemanta
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: 10.0/10 (1 vote cast)
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: 0 (from 0 votes)

“Your Sexy Things?”

Image Credit: Sexy Secret Board game by TDC games
A Good Day to Be Black and Sexy
Image via Wikipedia

NO. NO. No. ….

“I’m sorry”…. please don’t let me disturb you from your sexy things…

Your provocative things,

your forbidden things,

your secret things…your childhood dreams,

your adult fantasies….your hollow and muffled sounds buried in your “secret” place

Those things– that you sneak too….

Those things– that you creep too…

Those things– that you finger thru, ogle at, gaze at and awe with jaw dropped mouth,

glaring eyes, and suspended look…

Your hushed whispers, your blushes, your sweaty palm things….

-those things.

I would hate to interrupt you.

How could I dare be so precocious to try to cut into the dance;

(the dance between you and your sexy things)

Your tantalizing things, your daydreaming things…. Your hidden things….

-those things….

However, it would be against all that I am, if I did not wonder and question if I too

was one of your “sexy things”. “Am I one of your sexy things?”

Am I one of those antique things?

Those treasured classic things?

Those delicate, delectable tender, sexy things of yours?

Am I one of those things that tiptoe into your day, that blocks your thought?

Am I one of those things that disrupts your sleep in the middle of the night?

Am I a remembered forbidden sound from long ago? An undeniable and unforgettable

delightful smell? like your “sexy things”?

If not, what should I do?

What can I do to be your deep tucked away treasured thing? That thing that’s at the deepest part

of you?


Enhanced by Zemanta
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: 10.0/10 (1 vote cast)
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: 0 (from 0 votes)