Red Jacket

she stood there wearing a red jacket and black tights
i wondered quickly what she might be doing tonight
from myself, i think of her plight.
as a black woman she's endured a long lived fight
her story is not that general

her stance suggests something more mental
calculated
she seems to make moves that are suspicious
she plans her thoughts in succession
building on top of previously learned behavior and mannerisms
a constructivist

its Friday night
could she be going out for a night on the town?
she reminds me of the one that got away
its was my fault
i kept playing around

or maybe she going to see her guy
{a thought of hate.
he could never really care forher, or else
he would make sure her travel arrangments were straight}
her hair is pulled back and up in a bun
she wants to show more of her face
but i dont them she is doing it for him
she's doing it for her
to remind the guy she does what she wants
loytalty, commitment, respect and protections
is what she seeks in her significant him

It's so inviting. I love the dark

the dark is one of the two. the one and the other is the two

dark predates. dark begets

darkness starts it off. darkness

the dark is said where evil reigns. the dark is said where he remains

loneliness, sadness, pain. powerful states, for such an unpopular place

out of the dark. the light comes

She Inspired It

I haven't been on here for a minute. Totally forgot that it was here too. Maybe it was the ever changing technology wave that caught me. This young woman I went to college inspired this post. ---

Last night I had a dream. I was walking down the street, picture any north philly block with cars on the side-walk. My .380 was clutched in my right pocket. Once I turned the corner I thumbed the safety down, but didn't cock the hammer back. Visions of She crossed my mind. Brown skin thing, hair in a bun, lace lingerie. Damn she was fine. I really took my time. So much so it was around 5. In the morning. "You so nasty." She said when I licked them after being with her. If it wasn't so cold, I'd sniff my fingers.

The fiends be up early on the block. Traffic. At the bottom is the undercover cop.

Dumb nghas. Never playing they part.

I'm not bitchn, but caughtious. I park up at the top. Right accross from the poppy store.

"Yo. Who you bul?" I turn and give him a grill. He accross the street. I keep walking towards the wheel.

"Ayo. He talkn' to you ngha." His mans chime in.

There's six shots in this beretta. Enough for them, the ngha on the phone, the youngn on the bench and the two in the store. I turn around. "I'm not from around here, money." I look towards the cop car.

She flashes in my mind. I hope this isn't the last time I see her. Damn. She was so fine. And I was beginning to fall in love with her mind.

He swings. A cross. I block with my left. He crosses my right shoulder. My Right hand still in my pocket clutchin my strap. Trigger finger at the ready. "Get that ngha!" His man with the durag runs over. Big ngha. He's not as quick. At the same, I hook punch his side. He bends to the right. My right knee connects with his chin as he bends.

"STOP!" My pistol out pointing at his man. Big ngha was no fool. I had the drop. He couldnt defend.

The youngn runs into the store. The one on the phone runs behind a near by trash can.

This is it.

Somebodys' gonna die . . .