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Showing posts from May, 2018


Thinking back to my younger days when love seemed so possible, See a pretty girl and think to myself anything is plausible. But not now, we far too young to even settle down, Twenty three and free so every night we going out. Tear the city up we all yelling as we drink more, Wishing to myself I should've took time to think more. Because the days fly by when you not sober and hungover, Mid twenties creep up on you but it's cool game not over, Plenty of time to comeback and to fall in love, Because your money getting right and you been bit by the travel bug, So it's Miami in the summer and Paris in the fall, Costa Rica for the winter, meeting women, having a ball. And it's not meaningless sex if it means something to us, Vacation love has always been much easier to trust. So love me now but let me go when my flight is here, Look up to realize that I done partied through another year. When she get married and start posting pics of a baby? And how she get

SEVEN DAYS (visual)

"Seven Days" is a poetic story of what it is like in the span of a week in the world of internet and app dating. It explores the highs and lows and just how quickly the relationship starts and ends. One of the most read poems from my blog, I am happy to bring it to life with the talented Quinterra Custis.


The two of them walked into the museum wide eyed and slightly tipsy, intoxicated off the drink, and off the possibilities… the opportunity for a spark to grow, and grow. They walked the corridors of the space, walls filled with art of every kind, and yet, what he admired most was her. She was art to him, black and beautiful, God’s most natural painting. She catches him staring and smiles. It had been so long for him, to have that kind of feeling, the nervousness, the wondering…for far too long he had shut himself off from such a thing. If mastering a skill takes thousands upon thousands of hours, then surely he had mastered the skill of being single. He had spent so many other dates trying not to care, trying not to fall, and he had succeeded in doing that. But this, she, was different. The harder he tried not to like her, the deeper she penetrated his barriers, and at last, after much struggle, he gave in to her smile, her charm, and let free of all his worries. The two walked the c







It's early morning and I'm yawning with my coffee and cream, Sitting in the corner of the shop trying to work on a few things, But the observer in me starts to observe what he sees, Taking notes of the sights and all the troubling things. There is a man, bags in hand, having trouble to speak, To be honest and not modest he probably aint washed in a week. He takes some pills from his bag and he pops a few , He starting to nod off but he fights it he must refuse, Cause he done seen the news, and knows how that plays out, Being black in a coffee shop can get yo ass laid out. What shame, whoa who's this dame, she out here dressed to kill, I love a corporate sister killing it in a skirt and heels, I wanna flirt for real, but I respect her skills, Being black in corporate america, the double tax is real.  As she blow slowly the steam from her latte, I can't help but imagine  but every inch of her body. Here come the hipsters, there go the rock