all I know

All I know is empty houses with darkened rooms,

Silent kitchens of comfortless food, single settings at tables with

Numerous chairs, listening to the clicking flashing from restless TVs

while filling half a loveseat, cold bathrooms steamed from solitary showers,

Clutching dreams, in a bed's embrace, talking to the wind

Occupying the halls,

            All I know is that I do not want to live alone.

A dancer

I saw of a figure turning in the light

Under the spot in and out of sight

Her form leaps up and down

To the rhythm of the drumming sound

As the floor beats time with her vibrating feet

I saw a woman remembering what it was to dance

Her movements a blur across the stage

Bending her features like ribbons slipping

Through air encircling the flash of her arms

In front of her smile as she danced her desire.

Butter

Butter (white guy mix)

When women call him, they call him Butter

Not fly-guy, scrub or even cutter

And when they call him- he starts to stutter

Gotta get gotta get me some Butter!

So he says as his hands mime a train

What’s all this? What’s in a name?

Now his ladies start a shaking

For the sweet love he’s making

It might be a joke, it might be a game

Hey don’t hate the player, hate the game.

While his hands can do the speaking

His eyes do the sneaky seeking

His three finger gesture speculates

Enunciate the point he wants to make

With the guys he’s really fly

Way cooler than this white guy

On the court he can lay down the heat

A real machine cruising down the street

Yes, he is the master of the hip hop dance

Why he is the lover, the chocolate romance

He’s got game and a lot of fame

When those women see him they start to mutter

Gotta get gotta get me some Butter!

Sunday Morning Poem

how can I love you like that?
like the sun that shining through my widow
like the warm feel of my cat's head on my cheek
like that first drink of water after a long hot walk.
Can I love you like that?
like the fall of rain on desert floor, like the words in a song on the radio while driving, driving, driving on to see the one that i would hope to love me like that

Babylon.

Babylon.

The white walls rose out of sands to touch the satiny silk of the sunset, while drumbeats welcomed the stars dancing up out of the fading blue of the sky at dusk stretching out of the west like trails of fireworks launched on littered battlefields marking the passing of the crimson orb.

The tower thrust itself above surrounding walls to dominate the skyline with its jungles flowing out like tufts of tangled fur bursting from the side of an ancient ziggurat stepped with yellow stone. The whores laughed and talked with the elite guardsmen of the Purple Gate of the warrior goddess. The gate rose high emblazoned with gold bricks and marked by the lamentations of conquered peoples praying for life in the presences of the bitch-queen of death.

From the Dome of Mardukk, god of kings, I could see his eternal opponent curling out from behind the moon and glide lazily amongst the pyramid-like tombs of forgotten men towards the rim of the dome upon which I stood. Her hide glistened with points of light like thousands of diamonds catching the last light of Mithras settling in the west. The sands twisted out below her lithe body in small furious storms. Tiamat, the Dragon of the darkness, of the night spread her great wings to encompass the city and settled her claws on the white now turning gray walls. Eager she is to embrace her rival for the orbit of the single glowing sphere of her hearts heavy passion.

With the sunset ending, I turned to gaze down upon the lights of the wide promenade a ribbon of light from the Ishtar gate to the palace of Nebuchadnezzar. Dancers twirled their poles afire with red embers consuming, hop, skip, and spin in patterns weaving in and out of marching elephants and camels carrying gold and silver embroidered shrines of deities of the dead. Lost echoes of hire mourners rose out of the silence to Baal, friend in life, friend in death.

Nebuchadnezzar stood by me and looked at the linen wrapped corpse of the hundredth wife being borne to the Ziggurat of Kings. He sighed and turned his head away shielding a stately tear from the moaning masses and his cold queen. When he turned his gaze to the city of wonders, grief had contorted his face into a mask of severity and I knew the days of joy had come to an end.

I also knew that I would have to leave this city for brighter lands. I turned to him to bid him farewell and looked into the eyes of the kings of kings knowing that I would miss the palaces of concubines amidst the fruit, silks, and promises of love making. I would never again to see the hanging gardens, nor to walk through the gates of the city of Babylon.