I finally came up on a pair of good

Panties

Protecting my privates like a wrapper to

Candy

Protector of mine

Provider of comfortable coverage

My size

They didn’t come cheap that’s for

Sure

But then again, what good thing ever

Does?

I’ve had some dirty drawz

Y’all

Some were holier than thou

While others were just well endowed

I reserved some, just for Aunt Flow

You know…

That mean thing that comes around

Once a month

Bullying the hell out of a woman’s insides…

But don’t none of them

Grannies

Compare to my brand new

Panties

Aged out of rotation like

Desecration

Those old dogs got trashed

Fast

Like a good pair of comfy

Shoes

Only my new good panties will

Do!

Panties = A Southern term for “boyfriend”, “man”, “old man”

This poem was inspired by a Facebook friend of mine - D.W of Louisiana

Written by Jnaha © 2017

The wit and whim

Of the motley town fool

A silver tongue

With a penchant for glib

With lies offered

Like the whispers of lust

Promises surge

From a freshly split dam

Salvation t'come

In the form of his grace

Father foretold

"He'd steal nickles from 'nan"

Nobody trust

The words of this 'man'.

She said "hey"

And I don't know if she's trying to smash

Or rehash the past

Either way I'm feelin' the feeling she's bringing

Only one simple word and I'm emotionally stirred

If she's inchin' towards catching inches

I misplayed my hand by moving my hands without play

She's good friends with my ex, and maybe just checking in

Maybe seeing how I'm handling the ex having a baby

With the new crazy she's calling baby

This girl's got a rep for droppin' panties in step

If tt's the goods that she's givin' and I hear the givin's good

I mis-read and tell her the truth in my lead.

Pussy police off patrol, didn't arrest my keyboard control

Act a fool and lose my cool in 3 texts and an emoji.

Depression is my confession without concession

Put my chances in the dirt, show the heart on the sleeves on my shirt

Watch my chances go missin' because I didn't listen

To my confidants who tell me: she want a man with confidence

Death of my chances in spectacular fashion

Almost a roughrider, to rough night and no riding

All because I mis-spoke when I spoke and outright choked

When she said "Hey"

Jaunty kisses

Lovers making needy openmouthed pleas

Quickly rippling slippery tongue under velvety wet, x-rated, "YES" zones

Angelic babbling confirms deviant effectiveness

Fervent gasps,

Howling joy,

Keeping lusty madness nearly orgasmic perpetually

Bitter, swirling, arctic vortex

Cold walls and frozen faucet

Can't snuff the warmth I feel

When I see her text.

I’m just a kid. Don’t touch me there

I WILL yell. I WILL Scream! I WILL tell

I don’t care!

Mommy, mommy please don’t leave me

He’s a bad man. Please believe me.

If you leave me, he’ll touch me there

I’m just a KID! This isn’t fair!

Someone HEAR ME. HELP ME out!

LISTEN to ME. I AM just a CHILD

Protect & defend me at ALL costs

How will I be able to trust ADULTS!?

I WILL Yell! I WILL Scream! I WILL tell

I don’t care

I’m just a CHILD

You CANNOT touch me there!

Jnaha © 2016

I Had no idea the promises made

borne of lusty, clumsy moments would yield

a spark of life, and blaze anew

though the old fire waned, and its hunger slaked

a burgeoning blaze, on a still green torch,

caressed, cared for, carried by me.

Even the most raging conflagrations of my youth

two pyre's roaring, licking the sky, scorching the heavens

can never compare to the heat and light shed,

shed gay-ly, whimsically, ever radiantly, so easily

by something so frail, a torch so small, so simply snuffed

Such delicious irony! I carry her, yet she lights the way

lacking the vivacious luminescence cast with vigor

i would have never seen how dark and twisted

the caverns of man-kinds burdens really are.

It's easy to groan, and wail to the heavens

"oh how my arm hurts, to bear this burden"

The truth is, without this torch, I would be lost

you'll never know how hard that is to say, until you mutter it.

even under the burden of holding it aloft, always.

It's hard to admit the truth

"I'll never, ever grow tired of carrying this torch"

because I know someday I'll have to set it down

you'll never know how hard that is to admit, until crushed by the utterness of it

even under the burden of setting it down, eventually

I am a torchbearer

I am the keeper of truths

And I am a child of wonder, and amazement

staring at a simple torch

brought to tears of burden, and joyous elation of freedom

in the same flicker of light

I am The Torchbearer.