Showing posts with label Diata. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Diata. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

I am not offered the luxury of time

I am not offered the luxury of time
Not offered the luxury to shine
Sub-prime; I’m blinded by the grind that swallows my attempt at ordinary
At normalcy
My attempts at trying to be average
Wish I had the opportunity
To be full of childish leisure
Opportunity to change gratifying pleasures
But rather my smile of amusement is seized with crippling
Seizure of remembrance
Stifling images of impasses
From clad demonstrative shouts
Of me and neglect
I am past the point of reflecting
I am at the point of reflexing
Suggesting that the “isms”
Of the world be the reason
That the world scowls at my image of unfocused potential
Unwrapped talent
Dormant possibilities
Unleashed
I am feeling like I'm running a 100 years dash
500 years behind the gun shot of go...
I sneer at the misnomer
I conveniently hear the sabotaging forces say,
They got you calling life is the game
Got you relating it to chess moves
But I am figuring life
to be more like war
feel like a soldier
a warrior
I can feel Senegalese
and Zulu warriors blood
flowing through my veins
I don't know about you
pimpin but I'm engaged
In intellectual warfare...
I know damn well that
Ain't shit about war fare
Got you intensely attentive
To sensuous bigoted
Acts of defenseless and
Submissive thoughts
They got you on the 5 year
Lay away plan
Laying away 5 years of income
While they are in think
Tanks 5 miles under the
Sum total of your thoughts... (pause)
I am not afforded the luxury of time
Not afforded the luxury to shine
I'm to busy engaged in
Intellectual warfare

Diata
Copyright © 2011

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Pillow Talk With a Revolutionary

Radio lights and equalizing flashes lights the room
Perhaps you can get stolen glimpses
Of mahogany toned-redden skin intangled 
Like thorny sticker- brower bushes
Between sweat dampened sheets
As honey dew and lavender scented candles flicker….
As heaving chest and deep breathing subdues
She whispers “ I love you” while writing my name with her fingers in my Sweaty chest hairs
With  light finger tips, I gently trace the contour of her indigenous hillside bottom
All the way down
Barely brushing her not so sweet spot behind her knees and answer
“That’s cool to love me, but be in love with the struggle“…..
Giving me flashbacks of a middle school teenage attitude
She purses up the prettiest lips
And roll those almond shape deep oak colored eyes
While repositioning herself
Further-deeper into my arm pit and rib cage
Suddenly, no longer a name in my chest hairs
But a sharp finger jabbing pain in my side
With the warm faint smell of cognac and kush
With hints of cinnamon spice exhales
Her languages suggests she didn't like my response....
Irritatingly amused, but equally annoyed at the
Rememberance and the actual attempt of her
School girl attitude
And since 80% of language is non-verbal
I deliberately cross my hands behind my head
Interlacing my fingers and uncoiled our
Legs so mines could cross
Body language accomplished....
Not even secondsafter she reads into my sign
She sinks deeper into her "around the way Homegirl"
Posture
Sucking her teeth and scowling up that seconds ago
Beautiful face
Her attemot at setting off into motion
That classical played out ghetto scene in full throttle now
Her next words are perfunctionary I know
Almost mandatory in the scene she acts out
"Boy, I hate you sometimes, you make me sick"
And snatches the once shared sheet as she rolls
Up into her emotional knot on her
Other side....
In a not to distant past
I would've given her what she wanted
And performed any characters part to the T
But nah, I am GODBODY now
That is the enactment of God's body of words and
Wisdom
And though when you 're dealing with the symboloical
Rib of man
Inflared passions thatsnatural is hard to suppress
But God is real
So I do what I does and demonstrate Godlyness
I lead.....
Taking single moments that feel like an eternity
To plot out my course of action
Spurred on by goshes of wind
That seems endless as the summer nights rain
Is ever present in our shared afrodisiac
Which seemingly arranged this love making session
The timing comes off right
Because speakers gingerly belts out the tunes and
Melody of
"Break Up to Make Up"
Followed by the words...
Silently I thank God, as I smile
Recognzing the irony and timing of this song
In my best baritoned voice
I softly sing the chorus
Not to her
And really not to me
But rather to the mood and atmosphere
It's crazy, because
Right beneath the music I hear her
And imagine tears staining the canvas I love to
Look at
Understanding perfectly well
That her scene has played its course
Now she is back to raw vulnerability of her
Honest feelings
She feels as if they are out there
By themselves on a single limb.....
I say her name
No response
I reach under her sheet and stroke her rib side
She flinches as my touch re-adjustens to her skin
Electricity
Pure estactic at that moments touch
The elasticity of manly function
Takes place as I position myself to spooning behind her
Feeling the need to just touch and grab hold
I know someone in heaven is smiling
Because the timing is right again as the song "For the Love That I Give to You"
Chimes in and almost as a whisper
She backs her warmth up against my warmth
And says "hold me"
I nestle us under the sheets and the pillows and talk
Slowly dragging my words
Between kisses at the nape of her neck
Behind her ears
It takes effort , but even at the top of her spine I reach
Her genetical need to want to know
Ask me " How come I can't lover her the way she
Loves me " and " Why can't I commit"?
She barely gets the last words out
Before she sighs "ooooh" from my palms embrace
of her nipples
I tell her "I love her more than she will ever know or understand
"But why?'
She can't complete the thought
As I can feel tht goose bumps on her skin flare up
From my hand quickly trailing down to tease the nerve endings
of her clit
"But why what"
I whisper as I slide one then two
Fingers into her Nile Valley
The touch seems to soothe her
As I can almost feel the pressure release out of
Her body as my chest is to her back
"But why can't you put me first"? She finally gets out
Knowing that she got her inquiry out
She stops massaging my leg
She now reaches between hers
To grab and sensually stroke my Afriken walking stick
I squeeze her and tell her
"Your not playing fair"
I can feel her smile while saying "what'?
Cupping her leg apart with my hand
She knows my intentions
She guides me inside her Heaven
With a slight thrust from the hip
I feel complete
Whole almost
A perfect fit
With neither of us rushing
And no intent on stopping
We both give slight gyrating grinds
I answer her
"You ask me that question because you don't understand me"
She wants to detatch her mind from her body
I can feel it
But I won't allow her
I continue
"Baby, you can't base our love or relationship off of some
Shit out there"
She trys to to speak but I cut her off
"I need you to understand I am a man with a cause,
A purpose, unfortunately I am not afforded
The luxury of time to waste just to be
Lesiure
When we first met you was attracted to my
Cause to change, to appease your desire
For quality time
The only quality time we can have together is the
Time we spend engulfed in the movement
She pleads
"But baby why"? "It's so many things I
Want to do. So many experiences we
Be missing because your not here.
I feel like you don't love me".
I told her, I said
"Baby I love you deeply but I love the
Struggle more.....
Me inside her and
She enveloping me
Neither thirsting the chase for climax
But both pleading
For the other to not under
But over-stand
With no more music in the background
The rain completely stopped
candles finally flickered out
Just me and my love
Intertwined
Enjoying each other
Not knowing how to proceed
Questioning if we should proceed
A void in time
An abscence of every other thing in mind
Just a fragment of a night spent
A piece of the conversation
Pillow Talk With A Revolutionary.....

Diata
Copyright © 2010

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Reflection

Note: I have yet to come across any poem/piece/prose as powerful as this one - I know, fully, understand when people say "this or that thing was life changing." Thank you for sharing this poem, Diata! - halima


I am the product of my environment
More correctly, I am the product of my era in time

An era that’s 142 years past slavery
50 some odd years from Jim Crowism
And 31 years removed from the days
Of civil rights upheaval

I am an Afrikan
In an European matrix

I am ironically, the breathing testament to
A future normalcy that’s propositioned for…

I am the conflicting spirit of a victory won
Yet the destitute trapping of a generation lost

I am the reflection of a perfect love and a perfect hate

I seen the induction of the C.I.A & F.B.I
Systematically implant crack cocaine as subversive tool
To dwindle the revolutionary flame of the 60s

So I ask have I ever seen love?

I am the generation that first seen the “so called”
Affirmative action laws, which were supposed to have spawned the manifestation of “equal opportunity” in workplace and equal housing.

So should I ask, do I know love?

I am amongst a generation that leads in every major category that favors, and is high on, death.

So must I ask, is it possible for me to know love?

Remember we are just
Reflecting on a perfect love and perfect hate

How can you have morals and values when you are desperate?

How can righteousness be present when death and despair is so imminent?

How can they expect for love to exist, in a vast mass of conflicting emptiness?

Is love prejudice, and only accessible to those who can afford it?

Or is love the rock of those oppressed to lean on so they can maintain and hold on to their sanity and humanity?

Is love perfect and exact?

Or is it a faulty measurement and credit to God’s creative act?

Can I pick and choose who I love, must it be all embracive?

Is love a single characteristic
Or can it have multiple faces
As faces change in and out our relationships?

How can I love and still be so quick to kill?

Reflections of perfect love and hate

I heard a wise old man say
That the creative force talks to the heart and through the power of thought…

Well then if this is true
Then love is the vehicle that transmits the universal energy of man…to man..through

But not just any man
Not the man who’s divulgent in the panoramic scheme
Of man’s exploitation of man

Not the man absent of comprehension life’s cycle in land

Not the man void of obligations to another man free in hand

Not the man who oozes from goose pimples chasing after breastless firls in perverse skirts

Not the man who breathless skeleton treasures the heaven sent devil’s tongue

You know him, the man whose deceptive words carry heart thrilled prasising songs all throughout the four (4) corners causing massive burial zones

Love can’t be for the man, whose first taste of life was cradled in the smoke filled of a crack pipe

Reflection

Love can’t possibly know, the man who likes to touch his step-daughter secretly at night while she’s whispering the Lord’s Prayer

Reflections…

I wonder if love ever known those countless baby bones scattered throughout the floor of the Atlantic Ocean, because that slave destined mother didn’t want hate to overwhelm her loves life

Reflections

I bet you they loved the begging squeal of that pleading nigger bragging from the back of that pickup truck

A perfect love and perfect hate
Reflection

I once visualized love one night over harden
Erection and lustful wet dreams of me beating
The shit out of that judge who sentenced me

Reflections

They say its three (3) types of men in this world
Well, I must have been the fool, because the same wise old man taught me – twice

He said if the creator is spirit
And man is made flesh, then love must sleep with soul on the plane first made manifest

Reflections

Retrospection showed me that I was a slave
Introspection brought to the realm of being re-made…

So like a new born, I take a slap from reality
That awakens me to breath…

Wiping away the fetus membrane, I begin to see a new image

One that’s no longer tainted by pictures
Of beautiful women given lustful thoughts

Or having a hustler’s dreams, trying to make a robbers buck

But now, I see, a positive ways
Knocking down barriers in a hell-like maze

Love is neither helpless nor substance less
But resides on a thin line of ethereal thoughts

Penetrating the psyche of a man who has fought through force-fields of ignorance and heartache

Swiped through myriads of obstacles and stumbling blocks

To arrive at the pinnacles of the creator’s throne

Not any fictitious ottomans in galaxies space less space

But rather the seat of man’s domain
Existing inside the physiological composition
Of conductive activity that arrives you at the cognitive realization that love is UNDERSTANDING

Can’t you finally see
Your reflection

Love is height of understanding

Love is when you no longer under but overstand
Life and reality and your direct correlation in it

Love is that energy and motion vocatively combusting
Within you so that you can do nothing but feel it
But it’s more

Love is conscious awareness
Aware enough to know that you must consciously embody the righteous principles of life as they culminatively co-exist synchrinizedly
To produce, cultivate, nurture and perpetuate

What?
Life!

Life as the multitude of lessons which constitute one lessons

Love

Reflections

Love is immaculate with much splendor

Suspended in a vortex of blocked perceptions
Love is explicitly clear

Transparent to the eye
But yet so easy to see
Reflections

Love is perplexing to those restricted to just their five (5) tentacle-like senses…

But truly, spiritually enthralling to the few
Who allow their cognitive minds?
To absorb it’s heart-shattering
Truth

Love is as love does
Because you see you do
As far as your conscious overstanding
Of life, reality, existing
Allows you to do

So, in the end all you really have to do is reflect and you

Will now

Love

Reflections

Diata
Copyright © 2010