Let’s talk about the weather

I remember when people made idle chatter about the weather
Passing time discussing the heat or the cold
Conversation veering off to talks of winter breaks or summer gardens
Topics taking turns to Christmas pageant or spring breaks
Outfits to wear and trips to take

Now when the weather comes up, it’s not longer idle chatter
The turns are no longer pleasant and fun
The weather now bring home reality of places in the world
Where it rains people as the sky cry
Where children are swallowed as the earth shifts
Where ashes cover grounds from volcano coughs

No we don’t make idle weather chats anymore
There’s not fun digression of conversation
We talk about global warming and cooling
Of winters that last eternity
Of cancerous summer sun that scars and kill
Of oily tides that kills the wild

No, the weather is no conversation for the faint of heart
Not when the weather seems to be taking turn
Causing destruction across the land
Now when you want to talk idle
And discuss something pleasant
Perhaps we can try talking about …
Heck is there anything idle to talk about anymore?

Book Cover

I walked in discount store
And he started watching
Sneaking glances under
Lashes couldn’t keep his eyes off me
I strolled through the aisles
And he always seemed to me

Pretty young, blond little thing
Came in after me
His glance barely acknowledged
Cause it was on me
She was asked if assistance was needed
But the other worker standing there
But I’d been waiting 15 and got nothing but stares

So busy judging me they didn’t see
The pretty little thing walked out without paying
And as for me as I left sans purchase
I saw them heave a sigh of relief
Cause I and my brown skin had left without trouble

Trapped

Get me outta here
This small town life
Job brought me here
But I need the lights
The big city crowds
The concerts and plays
Street vendors and performers
I dream of the days
Of strolling down the block
Music blasting down the street
Friends gathering on the corner
Or sitting on the steps of someone’s
Mama’s or grandmama’s house
Yeah the job pays
But when do I get to play
Doing things that I like
That do not cost an arm and leg
Get me outta here
Get me back to my lights
To babysitters at a blink
To hanging out at scrimmage games
To happy times and carefree life
I know I can’t go back
But hey, I can dream

Brillo Pad

Brillo pad
Nappy roots
Dull and dry
They called my hair
Wig it up
Weave it up
Perm it up
They told me to
So I accepted and did what THEY said
Until I stumbled upon knowledge to care for my roots
Threw out the chemicals
Cut out the damage
Moisturize, moisture, moist
That’s all this kinky curly hair needed to survive
So while I don’t flow down my back
With synthetics or chemically treated tracks
I love my natural curls
Yup every curly, tangly strand

Senses

Blindfold me so I can read your body
Like fingertips across Braille
Running my palms down your spine
Across your shoulders and down your lines
I’ll use my lips to translate what my eyes cannot see
Use my tongue to savor your essence
And my teeth to tantalize and tease
Vibrations from your moans tingle my ears
And roll me under your spell while
The scent of your desire, our desires burn my nose
And by the time the blinders comes off
I don’t need to see now deep I’ve fallen