I could write a poem that would set this room on fire;
Have the people snapping and clapping
Getting wet from my desire to entice you lyrically between my thighs
Have a secret
And I could write a passage about the feel and shape of my assets
As you cup my…
Have a secret
See professionally my pen bleeds the needs of my community;
And I fight on the daily for the possibilities of unity;
Black thoughts grip pen; soul movements happen as I send
Mental brainwaves to pave the way
This is my will, my want and
During the day
“But as the night moves in ~ love takes on new meaning”
My pen calls a truce from revolutions truth;
At night I am thinking only of you;
Dreaming about being held in your arms; riding your charms
Head on your shoulders
Falling deep beneath your sheets
Covering me in ecstasy
That’s not for the world to share
My notebook can’t contain the spirit I claim between its pages;
Will never cling to you through ink stained stages;
That would be feigning my existence
And I’d much rather live it.
Intimacy is a gift
A present for just you to open and explore so whether I’m your lady
or your whore
only you will know
And whether or not I’m wet
is for you only to get
To soak and
So as the night moves in and my pen rests a siesta gently on the night stand
and I stand naked in the night ~
ready to write new poems
know that some tales
weren’t made to be told,
aren’t made to be sold
weren’t made to be released
When I cease thinking about
it’s about ONLY my man and me…
So although I could write a piece
Describing my desire for your piece,
It gives me peace
to know that I have a secret
And I keep it
Behind closed doors.
“Behind Closed Doors” was written as an answer to all the people who have said to me “you should write a “sex” poem.” I watch listeners at poetry venues going crazy when people (because not everyone who recites is a poet or poetic) get on the mic and just graphically describe sexual positions and add a few rhyming words.
The possibility of a strong mental connection is sensually sexual to me. Even when you drop all pretenses and “get right to it” with someone you love – there’s a beauty to that range of trust you’ve established in your relationship. So if writing about the experience is graphic then you haven’t made, created, shared, given or experienced love; you’ve simply f*cked.
Anyone can f*ck and sex with someone you don’t love is masturbation.
Making love is a connection, a joining, it’s a collective exhale; not a quick release. Its bonding not tossing aside the experience in search of the next one.
It’s exploration and discovery and it is impossible to f*ck someone you love.
Love, now that’s a complicated story that starts at the beginning.