Bleeding sweat.
The ocean turned over in beats and bass, and the sand moved in the roll of a tongue beneath her stomach and hips, and the rest of the beach gazed at her there while her headphones blasted Modern English and other post punk ’80s bubblegum resurrections. The smell of Coppertone and Pacific had married above her body and pinned my vision on the horizon behind the top of her perfection. I ran my middle finger down her knuckle and she smiled beneath a shroud of wild hair with sweat at the roots.
Back at the house we made it halfway up the stairs before my tongue was up her ass and she was grabbing my hair. Her palms leaned forward and pressed into the carpet while I held her legs off the ground, the grip of my hands on her hips, and I watched her body bounce off our sex while she bucked and came, her hair in her face, her perfections hard at their tips. I arched my back and shot into her and we were frozen there like statues bleeding sweat, my love for her a poem I could never write.
Immigrants
Who are they?
They are you
Stumbling through life
Trying to make a living
Wanting to protect
Those they love
They came here
For a better life
Yet we turn our backs on them
Slanderous
Hateful words
Thrown like acid on the skin
Why?
Because we have shut our doors
So much for freedom
And land of opportunity
We would rather cast stones
Deport
Asking the wrong questions
They have never hurt anyone
Yet we treat them worse then criminals
Terrorists we call them
Simply because of their faith
Nationality
Or because
"They don't look like me"
But they are
Just like you
Should we deport you too?
Friendship
Loyalty is everything but few understand or know
Some people are seasons they come and they go
Most say they are real, but its everything they are not
Staying true to your people was what i was taught
I would die over this, maybe im crazy
If I love you I love you, and nothing will change me
Headed West
My desk faces the West because
that’s where the window is,
& because, after all
Death is to the West,
& words are always Death
in one way or another.
Above the hanging plant
above the window
Our Most Terrible Lady
smiles,
knowing my
sins & secrets.
Sometime before the
Sun goes down,
everyone will know.