Backstage With Blankets,
That's how Fresh Love had us
Under the stars.
Burning Body Parts
And Dark Meadows of memories,
Of How our Skin Touched.
The Black Love
Of King Ajamu
And Lola.
Pain
Is a color if Mystery
Hidden to be Unraveled in the Riddles of Poetry.
But who has the time these days?
Zima and D' Marcus
To busy being 16th century slaves
Freefalling in waves of Style
We dream of that an Elite Woman
Beautiful, But Drowning Butterfly.
YOU ARE READING
The Hum Of Existence
PoetryThere's not much to tell, Except I Have much to say. And I Will everyday, So I've Learned & managed to express , A little more in a lot Less.
