Burlesque

Juicy Clemetine...is mine.

Let me entertain you
Let me make you smile
Let me do a few tricks
Some old and then some new tricks
I'm very versatile

And if you're real good
I'll make you feel good
I want your spirits too fine

So let me entertain you
And we'll have a real good time, yes sir
We'll have a real good time

And if you're real good
I'll make you feel good
I want your spirits to climb

Let me entertain you
And we'll have a real good time

Copied from MetroLyrics.com   http://dcgurlyshow.com/

Lazy City Tornado

The Laundry Game

When you asked to use my washing machine
I finally realized I was being used
It is a nice washing machine
It front loads.
It chimes like an early morning alarm waking me with a jolt

A jolt that feels like tripping up my apartment stairs while carrying something heavy
Like a case of bottled water or several frozen turkeys

My wrists too tired to let go
My feet have clearly given up
I tighten my abs and teeth to brace for an ungraceful landing
Tears already forming in my eyes
Instead I hit my head on pillows without pillow cases on a sheet less bed

It smells of clean laundry
I am ready to fold.
Ready to give up with each pair of black socks
Each crew neck white undershirt
Each pair of neon sport shorts

I have played the laundry game before
A light kiss to my forehead
A sweet rub to my shoulders
The entangled mess of shirt arms and pant legs now make sense
I am ready to fold.

My Moon, My Motivator

As I tiptoe to the lake
I turn my feet into the dirt without a sound
Late night mischief in my light green eyes

There, behind the tree limbs and leaves
I see my reason for breathing during the day
My moon, my motivator

Sweet lake water I envy your reflection
Two moons eclipse my eye lashes
Drown out harsh words, heal blisters

Strong enough to glow through the clouds
Light for my evening walks
Clear space inside me to shine during the day

-------

No, I said, What kind of bird, are you?

Her Indian Eyes

I live and die by Indian Eyes

Kisses of salt

Lick of savory cardamom

Each lash, each iris

I live and die by Indian eyes
Cigarettes on the fire escape
Legs crossed
Each pull, each exhale

I live and die by Indian eyes
Smoky eye liner
Small breath of air
Each answer, each request



NYC Dinner Across From Indigenous Eyes



In and Out of Affection

Breathing hurts my lungs as stove coils burn our dessert
He loves another
Mealtime more tired than restless legs and tasteless words

Sitting in dirty Levi’s
Hip bones and thoughts protrude from tanned skin
Bruising my thighs

Interesting to the tops of his ears with enthusiasm for sentimental moments
Learning from the other
Tears well up in my eyes and roll down my cheeks this evening

Words continue to prick my spin
Purposely forgotten nightstand earrings, now remembered
True love’s lovers have ended

Washing dishes in his sink remains the most natural
He loves another
Writhing hands try to understand the linen fabric dinner napkins


"Big Ass-ey Tassie's" 11/11



Single File Walk Away from Cheek-to-Cheek

Metro doors open
Leave my seat next to you
Walk through the crowd
Broken escalator

Slow walk down
Blisters form on my feet
Sweat down the crest of my breast
Metro doors closing

Car without air conditioning
Crush without consequences
My spit on your cheek
Your thoughts on my mind

Picture From Metro DC

Painful Pillow Talk

My fingertips tap your sweet shoulders
Hotter than the aluminum roofs of staggering summers
I wonder who your mind and mouth will be interested in next

Who will your clock tick-tock for?
Who will your palms sweat-snap for?
Who will your heart pitter-pat for?

I sink into my cool desk chair and twirl my hair around my fingers
Vodka soaked nights, club soda removed red wine spills
Our lips touch lighter than a strapless silk cocktail dress

My palms and fingers interlock with yours
Cleaner lines than kitchen counters at five star hotels
I wonder who your mind and mouth will be interested in next

Who will your feet tap-tip for?
Who will your head think-thoughts for?
Who will your stomach spin-stop for?

We continue to suffer through painful pillow talk
Coffee filter cubicles, water ring stained wood tables
Our toes touch lighter than a flickering lighter flame

Metro Toes

The Substitute Fruit

Everyone has a grapefruit.
Oh that, tart, sweet fruit that sits on the counter alone
It always needs sugar

You always need breakfast
So you eat it…
Sour liquid and pulp fills your spoon
You swallow even though the thought of the kitchen sink is near.

Everyone has a grapefruit.

Its peel shines like the sun from behind your skinny fruit collective
Bigger isn’t always better
It always needs sugar

You try to forcefully blend it into being orange juice
So you drink it…
Pink acidic poison drowns your tonsils
It needs vodka more than your Saturday night ride on the Greyhound.

Everyone has a grapefruit.
















Picture From: Eight ways to eat a grapefruit

Soon I will SPARKLE

http://www.busboysandpoets.com/events/event/sparkle-open-mic-poetry-hosted-by-regie-cabico-and-danielle-evennou9

I went. I will go again. I will be at the mic.

The Driest March on Record

Today morning was the first time
Our eyes met and my skin prickled
Blood slipped into my pale cheeks
Lite perspiration under my arms
And at the tops of my thighs

The low roll of your voice
Like dark skies and summer thunder
Your hair cut like fresh cut grass
My face thirsty for rain

And Palm to Palm is Holy Palmers' Kiss

Voices carry around us like echoes off tall buildings

Bottles of dreams and glasses of wine sit in front of us.

Empty

Records skip in the background

I want to be your microphone.

Silence

The words from your mouth a barrier for our lips

As our palms touch I mumble Shakespearean words.

Handshake

Etiquette confused by lost love languages and new ones

Your communication fails by the book.

We are Virginia Tech

Five years later, we are Virginia Tech:



Nikki Giovanni's Convocation Address April 17, 2012

http://www.remembrance.vt.edu/2007/archive/giovanni_transcript.html

My Followers Share and I Listen

Nikky Finney’s amazing acceptance speech for winning the 2011 National Book Award for Poetry for “Head Off and Split”



(Nikky Finney starts around minute 4:30)
"Repetition is holy..."

When Desperate Times called Desperate Measures

Over the phone line during a frantic time

Desperate Times called Desperate Measures.

She meditated on the floor of her room, eyes closed 

As his whispers described lazy locations 

And quickly melting dreams.

She felt connected to him.

The weight of her soft blue words

Causing his heavy head to meet the soft pillow

A lump formed in his throat from

Empty promises and per diem dinners.

Thanks for calling out of the blue, he says,

Next time I will be sure to call you.

Vintage Film Series

“If I were the marrying kind, and I thank the lord I’m not sir”

Through her coral colored finger nails
Between her permanently lined,
Continuously pouty dark ruby lips
My cousin worries out loud about never getting married.

She is eight months my junior
Her sweet Southern drawl
Covers her intelligence
Making her meek concern sound reasonable to my ears.
Am I the marrying kind?

The thought sticks to my mind like tree sap.
As my female friends are falling like blossom petals,
My relationships begin and end with wildfires.
Slash and burn the continued path ahead
Successfully clearing an average of two relationships per year.

I take a deep breath and sigh,
“We are the marrying kind…”
I trail off; my cousin shivers off the thought
To avoid the engagement grim reaper.

I appease her with my words
And thank the lord I’m not her.

---

Poetry Think Links:
Title Lyrics
Wedding Industry Statistics from The Knot
Marriage and Divorce from CDC
The Gay Law Report

The Quiz

If you don't understand the the little things, Take The Quiz.

24 Little Things

Be creative
Be a cunning linguist
Be funny
Be strong
Be thoughtful
Buy cupcakes
Buy flowers


Call often
Don’t force it
Don’t shower alone
Don’t swear
Don’t smoke
Get up early
Give compliments


Kiss well
Make plans
Make the bed
Send sweet notes
Share books
Split entrees
Spoon


Text often
Try a little tenderness
Understand double entendres

Walk Me Out

He raced down the stairs of his townhouse
In black boxer briefs and socks.
My heart lifted with my eyes.

I had my hand on the doorknob
Ready to slip out unnoticed
Like a famous monument to city dwellers.

He caught me
Gave me an eyebrow raise
A casual smile

He slide my way on the hardwood floors
Placed his arm around my waist
A quick kiss

How do you eat a soft boiled egg?

Last winter we decided to meet in England for Easter.
As he came in, I tried to smell his presence in the room.
He always smelled of nothing.
We kissed on both cheeks, not letting our bodies touch.

I started my morning with cold hands and soft boiled eggs
He started his by being late and with hot coffee.
The conversation twists and turns made me feel
More dazed with from my warm beer hangover.

My new wool sweater scratched my neck
His new glasses are tortes shell and square.
My arteries atrophied from a restless romance in Romania
His wrist wrecked from snow skiing in Slovenia.

We decided to meet in New York for New Year’s.
As breakfast ended, he smiled.
I smiled back, said nothing and drank my last bit of tea.
We kissed on both cheeks, not letting our bodies touch.

Wedding Day at Mizzou

If God is for us, who can be against us? Romans (8:31)

Melissa may I marry you?

Your heart shaped face in my hands
We would kiss at the alter in white dresses

My hands are wrinkled while yours are smooth
I will be your shepherd through these fields

I will protect you from the world
Cherish you as you deserve

Source: Facebook

Rachel Heal the World with Your Thoughts

Search the Scriptures John (5:39)

Rachel, may I call you satchel?

Carry the weight of my crinkled thoughts
Scribbled across the pages of your Bible

I run my fingers across your brow
Rummage through you to find the words

Kiss me please and we will run together
Quietly through all books in your library


Source: Facebook



If you know Zoey, this is a typical life happening:
Zoey falls in love with a French girl and leaves her for a high paying job in New York. Typical...


Because you told me over soufflé you wanted me to write to you.
---
‘Alo

Over the phone your voice sounds hallow but happy
You close the door to your New York City office
To catch up with an old fling.
She is dating someone new, so are you.
You continue to feel fireflies swirling behind your eyes
You a picture a small jar on your desk filled with the lightening bugs.
You quit smoking together
You always splurged on French wine.

You picture her cheeky panties dancing in your first French apartment
The dishes were never clean, she was never there
Your records and books were never organized, she was never there
A new couch more appealing than an old bed
Even when the sheets were clean.
The second apartment would never come.
New York City called and with a double cheek kiss and a sweet, Ca va?
She left you at the airport.

She only needed to stay one night in the city
Your ears buzz. You blink. You pause. You say, “Oui oui.”
She says, Merci, my love, see you at 6.

How to be alone...

A friend sent me this video poem today at work. Thank you, Grego of Kibitzers.

I have great friends.

Airplane Pain

    
As the airplane rose over the horizon, I pictured us.
Sitting in the sticky district heat backs against the wrought iron railing
Our bare feet pressed together mimicking how our bodies often were.

Summer with you felt as cool as a freshly skinned knee.
I sucked air through my gritted teeth after I fell, knowing the pain.

I hated how the scab healed in autumn.
It itched with hesitation and conversation.
The scab had almost healed when winter came.
Thankfully the air was dry and it peeled off again.