the sacred within my collection

 a very good <changing> has sat hisself on my doorstep for months and years and we have eatin together and loved and lost and loved and stars fell on us-we laughed and i mustve thanked him sincerely for never letting me feel how it felt to not be in love , "whats that feel like?" and sometimes i had closed the door and walked upstairs- went to sleep in large bed alonely but always made it down on time to break fast and suddenly we ran like cheetahs speaking in tongues and still laughing-townsfolk always just saw a blur until we posed for flicks when the crowd paid us in jealousy and i aint even trippin man this is a true story with true haters that just want to squeeze in between our hugs and transform themselves in2 lovers but they never wore the right oils and once i couldnt find him he shot hisself from the sun just exploded offa it like a sun drop and shared his heat when it got winter sadness and i swear Sade had wrote lovers rock after dinner at our house i served curried lentils and he said it was the best he had and rubbed his tummy and smiled and i fed and fed forever and we were LIVE in concert with sold out tickets wit just the journey i had tried to remember what we did yesterday until time ceased to exist and he reminded me it didnt thabisile so i couldnt plan ahead or bring up " that old shit" and it was o.k

for thabisile

perhaps ive been loving u too loudly

filling spaces between my eyelashes w cobwebs of fallacious reassurance

revisiting ur photograph like it would burst into flames on any beat of the ticking of the days routine

revisiting like an elder in the attic

dusting off a wedding gown matching the colour of waste

u are hauntingly present in all of my orders to the sky

so much so that i have come up with code names for u- flood,tomorrow, prayer

tell me about ur time which has fastforwarded me into nothingness

remembered only through the endings of chapters, fallow fields,

compacted me into passages of sporadic uppers or

hallucinagens

whos your pusha

whos number do u dial man

how many frayed sonia sanchez pages

how many laps around the sun

how many origami birds must be dropped from high rises

before i can lower my voice

drop'n knowledge

met brilliance in the rain today he was

awkward smilin / dirt under fingernails he told

me of worlds i have yet to tap i have yet

to expect reality

he was not articulate or nag champa or african musk oil did

not smell on him / i inhaled  smells of ethereal and havent showered my gat isnt waterproof / inhaled some more

and it stopped 

raining

commercializing

armchair revolutionizing

facade living

stopped / i have no interest in hearing so and so speak from their trip to so and so 

i must be available to stand in rain

more often

Foundation

she'd been closed/vaulted/hidden/unwatered/trifling
his outrageous booming laughter always
overpowered screaming looks
she wore what she wanted a scorned
women's garb a mix
of survivalism and self comfort
he got no hot dinners
instead diminishing her, spitting incapacities
hot skinned glimpse into past he exhibited charm
pushed into wombs and journeys/ filled in
her bubbles
she fought back with ugly shoes and venom
womanism named her mama

My entrance

greetings , seasons and revolutionary , 2 all . i recently remembered i was a writer that writes .... an artist that does not share is a member of an asylum , padlocked, weak and selfish . thus im sharing . mostly poems but nothing's absolute . enjoy , comment , keep it gangsta , drop me a line , yadda yadda . oh i like good vibrations , if u got um , pass um........