In wintertime, I have such funWhen I play quoits with father.I beat him almost every game.He never seems to bother. He looks at mother and just smiles.All this seems strange to me,For when he plays with grown-up folks,He beats them easily. *Quoits is a ring toss game. Category, Rituals, Reference: Effie Newsome
learn moreCigarettes in my mouth to puncture blisters in my brain. My bass a fine piece of furniture. My fingers soft, too soft to rattle rafters in second-rate halls. The harmonies I could never learn stick in Ayler’s screams. An African chant chokes us. My image shot. If you look off over the Hudson, the dark […]
learn moreWhen you feel blue, the best thing to do is tell yourself to forget it. Laugh your cares away Tomorrow’s another day And Everything will be Copasetic. Never look down Chin up and don’t frown. Don’t let life get pathetic. Life’s a funny thing It’s really great when you sing, And Everything will be Copasetic. […]
learn moreI once saw Jazell Barbie RoyaleDo Whitney Houston so wellI got upset with myself for sneaking Past the cashier After having been patted down. Security frisks you For nothing. They don’t believe in trouble. They don’t Imagine a gun or a blade, thoughSometimes they make you walk all the way back To the car with the weed you didn’t tuck well. No […]
learn moreJohn William Boone (1864-1927) world-renowned Ragtime Pianist
learn moreGotta love
us brown girls, munching on fat, swinging blue hips,
decked out
in shells and splashes, Lawdie, bringing them woo hips.
As the
jukebox teases, watch my sistas throat the heartbreak,
inhaling
bassline, cracking backbone and singing thru hips.
Like
something boneless, we glide silent, seeping ‘tween floorboards,
wrapping
around the hims, and ooh wee, clinging like glue hips.
Engines
grinding, rotating, smokin’, gotta pull back some.
Natural
minds are lost at the mere sight of ringing true hips.
Gotta love
learn moreBefore and after school
he stood
on a milk crate
eyeballed the mirror
and only saw wayne turner
at tournament time
a third grader
just off the bus
barely four feet
off the ground
he dropped his books
sank a j’
from the top of the key
and heard the crowd roar
beat his man off the dribble
with a break yaneck
crossover
and slammed himself
on the cover of a box
of wheaties
he was out there
every night
under a street light
fighting through double picks
talking trash
to imaginary body checks
‘you can’t hold me fool’
fake right
‘this is my p
Ah ha, hush that fuss
Everybody move to the back of the bus
Do you wanna bump and slump with us
We the type of people make the club get crunk
Many a day has passed, the night has gone by
But still I find the time to put that bump off in your eye
Total chaos, for these playas, thought we was absent
We takin another route to represent the Dungeon Family
Like Great Day, me and my nigga decide to take the back way
We stabbing every city then we headed to that bat cave
A-T-L, Georgia, what we do for ya
Bull doggin hoes like them Georgetown Hoyas
Boy you sounding silly, thank my Brough
*Hear ye, hear ye
This court is now in session
His Honor, Judge Pigmeat Markham presidin
Hear ye, hear ye, the court of swing
It’s just about ready to do that thing
I don’t want no tears, I don’t want no lies
Above all, I don’t want no alibis
This Judge is hip, and that ain’t all
He’ll give you time if you’re big or small
All in line for this court is neat
Peace brother, here comes the Judge
Here comes the Judge
Everybody knows that he is the judge
Everybody near or far
I’m goin’ to Paris to stop this war
All those kids gotta listen to me
Because I am the judge and you can pl
Life-long, poor Browning never knew Virginia,
Or he’d not grieved in Florence for April sallies
Back to English gardens after Euclid’s linear:
Clipt yews, Pomander Walks, and preached alleys;
Primroses, prim indeed, in quiet ordered hedges,
Waterways, soberly, sedately enchanneled,
No thin riotous blade even among the sedges,
All the wild country-side tamely impaneled . .
