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

I Broke The Sky

I BROKE THE SKY

I broke the sky
Today
I could say I didn’t mean to
But that wouldn’t be true

I did not intentionally
Bump my head on the sun
I got started dreaming and
Before
I barely got big
My words were bouncing off the moon
My verbs
Were mixing through the milky way
And I wasn’t even
Blessed yet

I broke the sky
Today
I it was not my meaning to make
Anybody smaller
To hurt any feelings

But when I started building
Before I knew it
I knew what God looked like
And I was tired of being only what
People expected me to be

I bumped my head against the sun
I outgrew this galaxy
The sky broke
And I flew past angles with four wings
By the time that God had blessed me
I now needed elbow room in heaven

God has unchained me
Only God can hold me
Ask me to slow down
Give me enough infinity to create
All the art he placed inside me

And all I want to do
Is to make us all beautiful
Build a bigger better sky for our children
Where we point them to heaven
Sit them on God’s lap
Not break down our creator
To be small like we were….