Caribbean Jones

She Made Love To Me

(Last one for The Poetess...)

she made love to me
 
I couldn't help myself
my will was weak
my spirit
vulnerable to impending moments of passion
let me tell you all about it
 
she wanted to make love to me
but didn't know how
and after the evening meal was consumed
we sat in the living room
together
looking at each other
two restless panthers in a circus cage
feeling each other out
looking for the perfect opportunity to gain an advantage
 
the Smokey Robinson CD never fails
but it did tonight
 
the incense and candles
would always have us on the floor
knocking over chairs
lamps
anything that wasn't nailed down
prompting knocks on the door
or the floor
from angry neighbors downstairs
 
but tonight
she wanted to make love ...

It Was All Too Good To Be True

you
 
in that hip-huggin’ black dress
just lookin’ for me to
lock my arms around your waist
and hold you tighter than a crack addict holds his habit
 
your hair
flowing freely
softly
just lookin’ for my fingers to examine each long
delicate
golden brown strand
 
your eyes
hungry
hypnotic
big
brown
beautiful
expressing to me without words
your every hidden desire
your desire for me to
touch you
to hold you
to love you
and love you
AND LOVE YOU!!!
 
then
 
your lips
symmetrically perfect
brown sugar and cinnamon
drew close to mine
and your voice
soothing as the summer breeze
whispered to me
 
“there is no God...”
 
then
m...

Caribbean Jones

(Poetess - found two more... will post, before they revoke my Poetry Vibes license... :-)

damn
this was an easy poem to write
 
looking into your eyes
seeing sparkling
dancing
cool white foam waterfalls
crystal clear ocean waters
 
my toes
sinking deeper into the
soft sand of your shores
 
yeah
this poem was no trouble at all
 
watching
two white hot bolts of lightning
dangerously flashing within your Caribbean skies
parallel
dancing for a while
never once intersecting
causing continuous claps of thunder
 
Greek gods
making mythological love in the heavens above us
and the worlds rejoice in their union
 
I know your name ain’t
Jones
just happened to see the name
Jones
sitting all by its damned self
 

In Silence

(dusting off stuff in my attic for The Poetess... I think I have a few more)

in silence
in the cool of the evening breeze
I gazed at you with insatiable intent
emotions igniting actions overriding sensibility
I reached out to hold you as close as is scientifically possible
anxiously awaiting
as the tips of my fingers
slowly
investigated the nape of your neck
the smoothness of your shoulders
the curves of your back
reporting its pleasures to my brain
in silence
amidst star induced illumination
with unmistakable intent
my lips searched for yours
finding the tenderness spoken of centuries ago in
Shakespearean
and Ovidean sonnets
in silence
in the warmth of the moment
I loved you without regret or resignation
exploring all of you
enjoying the slow
blissful voyage
afraid that you would vanish in the nex...

If You Let Me Love You Tonight

(**The Poetess made me pull this one out of my attic... **) :

if you let me love you tonight
I promise to be gentle with you
to give you hours of pleasure 
to last the whole night through
I’ll take you to a land of love 
but only if you want me to
...if you let me love you tonight

if you let me love you tonight 
you will be so glad that you came
I’ll gently and patiently kiss 
every inch of your frame
such an experience you'll feel 
you'll start calling my name...
...if you let me love you tonight

when was the last time 
you've been treated like a queen?
to have your mind explode in colors 
that you've never before seen?
and once it's all over 
I know you'll ask for more
I have so much in store
for you...
...if you let me love you tonight...

Nah, I Ain't Him

Nah, I Ain't Him

whose shoes are worthy to be unlatched
whose fashion fit is always perfectly matched
whose word and excel and power point files are always attached 
nah
not me
I ain't him
whose words translate into five thousand loaves with fish
whose fantasies become reality when you make a wish
whose menus in the kitchen turn into the perfect dish
nah
not me
I ain't him
whose poetry can lure that beauty into your bed
whose lantern can make you avoid the danger seen ahead
whose words can make you alive when once you were dead
nah
not me
I ain't him
whose name blazes outside across the open mic marquis
whose nouns, verbs and adjectives every poet will agree
whose quatrains, haikus and lines make you walk across the sea
nah
not me
I ain't him
you have me confused
with the Last Poets
Nikki...

You Send Me

you send me

yes
your poetry sends me
it really does 
 
from warm fields of grain 
waving languidly in southern suns of yesterday
as you watched the world
sipping on Aunt Mae's homemade ice tea
leaving no crumbs from her flakey hot buttery biscuits
on any part of the old wrap around wooden porch
 
opening my eyes again
your poems
send me to overcrowded tenements
overcrowded
underfunded schools in the north
graduates
in lock step with diplomas for janitorial careers
and housekeeping mastery
 
streets 
with black berets and bullets
bodegas 
with 10 cent ices for the children
while daddy shoots dice on the corner
with the dollar beers slowly consumed
and the eviction notices
nailed like the crucifixes on the apartment door
 
I'm really g...

Take Two (How I Celebrated Juneteenth)

it never happened
it was a all a dream 
a dream we still dream
although we are today 
“woke”
they call us
then
it was just
words on a page saying they we were free
June of 1865
was just another day in the hot
sweltering cotton field
still punished and/or rewarded for their daily yield

escape
how many of them tried?
how many of them died?
between the time Masssa Lincoln signed the proclamation
and the two years when they finally heard the declaration
the second coming of independence
and it all was supposed to make sense
then
now
I do declare and do agree
for those who lived in slavery in both
1865 and 1863
Juneteenth 
was not the end of slavery

Buck And The Preacher
art imitating life of the day
those who thought they were free
back roads an...

It Ain't Me, Babe

don't mind me
I'm taking my cue from the old
Flip Wilson show
where I can best see poets on stage
doing their thing under a solo spotlight
I'm quite alright
got my 
booth in the back in the corner in the dark
sittin' with Sanford and son
we ordered a bottle of
Champipple
they was out of regular Ripple
what kind of joint is this?
not sure where I am
sign outside said
poetry slam
and thought it was some kind of steel cage match
poets lose
if they come out without a scratch
words are supposed to slice and dice
not once
but twice
lines 
designed to pin me to the mat
sign outside the door
says 
poetry slam
so
this is where I'm at
in the booth in the back in the corner in the dark
hiding
cause I ain't got no decent poetry 
...

Yeah

yeah

I often wondered why
you and I
never touched the sky
why we never stopped along the way to paint pictures of ourselves
abstract
or in fine detail
admiring the finished product before the final exhibition

yeah

every step along the way
a quick glance but no words to say
as we fantasize about what might've been
if we had touched the sky just once
reaching that glorious plateau we thought about
all those years
smiles
and miles ago

yeah

taking what our fantasy gives
we would make our own verbs and adjectives
our nouns would resound from every cliff of Dover
but the morning came today
and it was all over
just a dream

yeah

dreams are cool
they were cool then as they are now
circumstances impossible to change
anyhow

yeah

even today
do I th...