Christmas ...Between Us....

It’s 10:30pm on a cold Christmas Eve. Melvin is watching The Boondock’s on DVD and wrapping gifts in his one bed room apartment. On his computer desk sits a foot and a half neatly decorated tree. On the floor lays various brightly colored wrapping paper remnants of shabbily wrapped gifts. He’s wearing his old sweat pants that are clean but are no longer fit for display beyond picking up his morning paper or maybe a walk to the mailbox on the corner. He’s also wearing a old Magic Johnson NBA jersey his uncle gave him. The purple looks almost blue now..but Melvin is comfortable.
The door bell rings.
Brina waits in the cold thinking about why she and Melvin are just friends. He’s nice enough. Looks well enough. There’s a not damn she would need to apologize for him if she introduced him to family and he’s never really done anything that she’s had to forgive him for.
That’s her problem. Other men have snatched her heart away one little piece at a time. Melvin has always found spare parts and shared them with her. To her credit she’s done the same for Mel so....it’s even...if she doesn’t feel it’s fair.
Mel opens the door and looks down at the shorter lighter skinned cutie. Brina’s cheeks are a little flushed from the cold. Her lips look as plump and soft as they ever did ..and then to further set Melvin off she licks them as she steps in the apartment.
“I didn’t finish wrapping your gift Bree” Mel says in his naturally bas voice that makes Brina feel like Melvin only ever speaks to her. “You never have my gift wrapped.” Brina says as she takes off her coat. Her navy blue blouse seems hug ever spot that makes her fine. Her breast seem to just hang in a way that bothers Melvin even more. Brina walks by Melvin and pulls up his jersey “and when are you going to get Magic a new jersey?” Brina says playing with her friend.
The two sit for almost twenty minutes discussing poetry, the fact that they still don’t believe Michael Jackson is dead. They trade tips on the sofa on “how to survive Christmas with your family and not commit an un-justifiable murder.” The two trade gifts.
“I know throw back are kinda played out but I thought Magic needed some company” Brina says while Melvin pulls out his new Kareem Abdul Jabbar jersey.
Brina squeals and puts Melvin in a half hug/half head lock when she sees the blender she thought no one would get her this year Melvin half stunned hugs back saying “it’s just a blender.”
As Melvin helps Brina back on with her coat, he remarks “uh oh.”
Brina responds “uh oh what?”

Melvin points up and answers “mistel toe”
Brina giggles a bit “mistle toe...what is this Happy Days? So now I guess we just...”
Melvin grabs Brina in mid sentence and pulls her close by the waiste before she can react. She is so thankful and it feels so good to grabbed by a man like this. There was something about late hours and cold nights. Before she knew it Brina was touching Mel’s dark chocolate face and feeling each sexy bristle of his beard. She ran her tongue along his lips and so wanted to just push his face down in her chest. Mel pushed Brina up against the wall right by the door and pulled on Brina’s ear with his teeth and blew warm candy kane smelling breath into her ear. Then he passionately worked his mouth down her neck and Brina tried in vain not to moan, not to say yes.
She faded in and out and when she faded in the buttons to her blouse were being taken apart wildly, she’d fade out and feel water ever where, she’d fade in and feel Mels tongue licking the inside of her belly button, she’d fade out her legs would tremble, she’d fade in and see her bra fall to the floor and she refused to fade out as Melvin’s big hands held her arms up over her head and his kingly warm and stimulating lips and tongue slip over and over again over nipples that wanted to work their way further into his mouth. Brina had to eventually cradle Melvin’s head with both her small hands and try and push his mouth down on her nipples and breast. She could tell how long they had engaged before she just held her left breast in one hand and the back of Mel’s head in the other.
The Clock struck 12 and somewhere between beep number 4 and 8...Brina came back to reality. With eyes wide open she now watched Mel, devour her body with her pants still on. She began to find that invisible wall that she imposed between herself and Mel that “kept them at safe distance.” She selfishly continued to enjoy the way his tongue hits all kind of switches on her body. Brina was glad that she knew exactly where her toy was and that she had enough batteries to finish this at home.
She’d soon have her bra fastened back and the buttons buttoned up on her bra. Not a lot of words were needed to tell Mel...this wasn’t the time or even if it was...it wasn’t gonna be this time.
She grabbed her blender and kissed Mel again. “We’ll keep this between us ...okay?” She so hoped he would snatch her up again. True to Mel’s form he respected more of what Brina was about than just another cutie with a fat ass. So he kissed her on the cheek.
That night she orgasmed several times with batteries and several toys that she tried over and over again to feel Mel pressing her against his apartment wall.
Then she staired a picture of them together she kept in her mind and whispered once again...”Merry Christmas Mel.”

I Give In To Intellectuals who Agree that Obama "Miss Spoke."

You Win...
After a weekend of discussion with intellectuals who support President Obama’s recant statement and his decision to have a beer with Officer Crawley. I give up and leave you in the hands of your President.
My favourite poem contains the following lines. “Take this as a word of warning. If they’re coming for me tonight, they’ll be coming for you in the morning.”
I was never raised to ignore an injustice because it doesn’t happen to you. I don't believe that you go along with the program unless it’s your family member.
In honestly discussing The Gates/Crawley/ Cambridge Police issue I find many of my friends agree that the police/officer Crawley did act stupidly. However, when I voice disgust with president Obama for going back on that, the same intellectuals say that I’m too harsh.
Personally, if Obama were not Black and recanted on that statement, I would be more harsh and critical. I believe my friends would be harsher as well. I also believe that if we were talking about Clarence Thomas or Armstrong Williams, my friends would be harsher.
I believe that by offering to have a beer at The White House with Officer Crawley that Obama sends the message that “it’s okay to harass Black men in their home. It's okay to continue to harass a Black Man who has given 2 forms of valid I.D to police, as long as the officer believes Black men should not be able to be in certain neighbourhoods. And if there are black men there they must be criminals engaging in criminal activity.
Personally I don’t stand with the President in saying that’s okay. However, a number of my friends do. Even more troubling a number more of my friends who include teachers, writers, entertainers, parents and other professionals, some of whom have been wrongly profiled by police, think President Obama having a beer with Crawley is a good idea and sends the right message.

So I give up on this one. I am someone who is in the spotlight and if something happens to my family or me based on an out of control police officer I will take it to the papers, magazines, radio and TV. However, I would be crazy (which I am not ) to get upset about situations that happen to the Sean Bell’s of the world, to risk my standings or anything else when the President wants to have a beer with these kind of police. Why should I care about what happens when your child or family member are attacked by police, when you don’t care as long as when the next incident happens it’s not to anyone you care for? I wouldn't want anyone's child to run into Officer Crawley, But I don't have kids. And if people with kids don't care? Again. Why should I?

My only advice is this. The best way not get racially profiled is to either A) become a police officer or B) get as famous as possible so that if you run into a "stupid" police officer, they may recognize you or you may get a high profile case like “Skip” Gates.
In the event that you do have a problem with police call me. I won’t cover your story but I will want to reflect on the day our President got punked by Cambridge Police and invited one for beer at the White House.

"Take this as a word of warning. If they're coming for you tonight? you're own your own."

Pretty Things

Pretty Things...

I like pretty things
Not necessarily shiny
Don’t have to be practical
Things that take my eyes by hand and neither wants to let go

I like
When the moon looks so big in the night
That you would swear God hung it in place himself
Or took the keys and drove it just close enough for you to see
But not to touch
Pretty Things

I like
Your lips when they see something they like
No crave
They open just a bit
But your tongue comes out forcing them apart and
Wetting them both
I carry chocolate just to see the way your face dances for sweeties
Sweetie
Pretty things


I like Pretty Things
Fatty girl asses crammed
In skinny jeans
Fresh pine apple, strawberries and grapes in the morning
That makes my eyes water and taste buds almost ache for
Wanting
I like
The words of Paublo Neruda from the heart of Chile
When he was in love

I like Pretty Things
Like the love songs of The Jackson Five
Or Tina Marie playing on a record player
Watching the woman that was mine
And still should be mine
Walk away
Still wanting to be friends somehow...
My life has proven that I like pretty things...
I have to this point not been able to keep them...

QUESTION of The Day! Could You Date a Pro

Could you date a stripper?

Could You date a prostitute?

Could you date an adult film star?

Could you date a sex therapist?

Have you?

Would you think about it?

After a Reading

The sexiest thing about you, you know are your eyes. You have a way of looking at me and I can’t tell if you’re listening to me, to God or just undressing me.

“Sometimes all three. You say the most amazing things sometimes. Like when you talk about my eyes? I put my hands on the table just so I KNOW where they are. Hmmmm but nigger. Sometimes when you talk about changing the world, or how you would kiss me after a hard days work, or when you tell me the kind of father you wanna be one day. You may as well just give me an open invitation to touch myself...why do you make me wanna go there? And in the middle of all that...because I’m a woman...(giggling) I can talk to God at the same time. You’re a good a man as I know...but sometimes the things you don’t know or understand would fuck you up. If you knew the half boy.”

That’s why you got tackled and I drug you back into class room after my book signing. I’m supposed to be locking up and putting the chairs back. I blame it on the way your thighs talk dirty to me when you wear short skirts, but that’s not why your legs are up on my shoulders right now. I say it’s your perfume that makes me act before I can think, or remember whether I locked the door or not. But it’s not any store bought smells that hold my senses hostage, that have me worshipping your back and neck and stomach and legs and places wet and wild and wonderful with kisses! And it’s lazy of me to say that your nipples taste like chocolate or caramel...they don’t. They taste like the juiciest parts of my life and when I “licks” your nipples my life is charged with love and whatever joy I’ve known as a chaser. It’s like putting my tongue to the universes battery.
Lifting up your shirt. Unhooking your bra hook by hook. Pushing your blouse out of the way. Holding your soft ,warm breasts in my hands as my tongue licks your nipples hard. Honey I live for that! I am a mere man. I may not ever know what ecstasy is. But when I feel your chin on the top of my bald head? And my mouth is full of your breast and nipple and I’m still sucking when I can hardly breath? I know I am so fuckin close.
I blame God, you, your momma, anyone who will take the blame. For bending you over the big desk. Why!!!?Can’t I just say you look sexy as fuck! Skirt up over your hips and panties around your ankles. WHY?!!! Can’t I just say you look like raw passion with your sandals kicked of and your bare feet on the hardwood floor? I kiss your back after I slide in. But I really would love to tell you how beautiful your fat ass looks while I push your legs a little farther apart. I smack your ass because I love to watch it jiggle and because I may not know how to spell antidisestablishmentarianism but I know good pussy when I’m in it.

“I respect all of that. I really do. That’s why I kiss you in ways I could never kiss nobody else. No matter how long it’s been since the last time. You think I push my tongue down your throat and kiss you cause you grab my ass. I do it cause, I know how to make you grab my ass harder. I feel your pain.
All you need to know is that most of that shit you do to me, with me and for me.
I likes.
Keep doing it.
Don’t think too much.
Say even less.
You don’t have to worry about whether the dick is good when I’ve pushing my ass toward you. I’m fucking you for something you said to me fours hours ago anyway....”

Armor a poem submitted by ......for Shot Gun!

Armor

i hate my self for closing my eyes
and feeling your hands on my thighs
for picturing that look
of pure love
and holding onto that image
for the whole five seconds it lasted

we talked for hours that night
surrounded by candle light
and great music
before you melted me
with your hands
caressing crevices
long since neglected
i still giggle
when i think about tickling you
on that patch of gray hair
as i began to take my first licks
down there
i still feel you inside me
mentally
emotionally
physically
you always allowed me to take flight
but the wings you provided
always burned
when getting close to the sun

your love for me
was never in question
i know that you love me
as best as you can
but your best
is shaped by women
who never saw your true beauty
only what they could get out of you
so my loving
of the real you
the layers shadowed by stage lights
and hidden by sarcastic comments
is felt
but lost on the armor that holds you together
just as i melt in your arms

Star Dust For Us

Stardust for Us

yesterday will not
fade
simply because
you
and time
the world
and even
i have moved on

the days have
stood in place

in a living room
I have left and emptied
i still stand in the window
watching your car pull up on the street where i lived
i grin with joy as you walk through the door

how come i still feel
your thighs melt in my hands
as if there were still
laying across my chest

how come your hugs
shatter my sensory perception
like kissing you
killed the way my clock keeps time

sometimes
my tongue taste like it’s
still
searching
for your sweetest spot
my skin feels a stickiness that’s not there anymore
and we look to the door
expecting to hear your yelling
from the hall

then I let today back in
bitter with the tastes of now

it’s been years
since my hands first found their way
up under your dress
to kiss your body

that was a night I was want to remember
each moment was so sweet
it only bitters
when I force myself to forget