Tuesday, April 26, 2005

he got me open

This brotha got me open like a broken zipper on a two dollar pair of flamingo pink polyester pants
Just the vision of him as the light fragments into slivers before dancing like silver pebbles across the surface of his caramel skin is enough to leave me reeling from the feeling of wanting him
And I almost despise the size of my grin as it doubles in volume when I see his form walk into a room
I've tried disguising the desire, but it burns through my being like a five alarm fire charring my body from follicle to feet

I=ve ended all attempts at being discreet
With white flag in hand, I signal defeat to the realization that the sensations permeating through me are a direct result of his creation

This brotha got me hoping like a homeless person who just pulled a lotto ticket from a trash bag on the curb
So absurd how easily he can disperse of the negative thoughts that lay like tumors on my spirit with swift incisions of uplifting scripts that clarify my future missions
He adds the strokes of brilliant color to my mental canvas of black and blue
Brushing hues of rosy views to banish bleak news that used to invade in parades across my horizon
His indigo groove is found in each stanza expanding from my fingers
To land on paper in infinite tribute to the beauty he's brought to my world
His love lingers like midnight caresses in everything I doThat's why I'm blessed with spoken word, triggered by his every move