An exercise...

I took 'A Mounted Umbrella' by Gertrude Stein and translated it into Ebonics... Translated Version and then the original poem..

What and shit wuz da use o' not leaving it dere where it would hang what wuz da use if dere wuz nahh chance o' ever seeing it come dere an' show dat it wuz handsome an' right in da way it showed it. The lesson iz ta learn dat it do show it, dat it shows it an' dat nuttin' , dat dere iz nuttin' , dat dere iz nahh mo' ta do about it an' just so much mo' iz dere plenty o' reason fo' making an exchange. what the fuck sup now? HAT was the use of not leaving it there where it would hang what was the use if there was no chance of ever seeing it come there and show that it was handsome and right in the way it showed it. The lesson is to learn that it does show it, that it shows it and that nothing, that there is nothing, that there is no more to do about it and just so much more is there plenty of reason for making an exchange.

With Gandhi in Mind

 Could my vagina be as powerful as your penis

Or will you always dominate me?

Or could power be the soft yellow in your newborn’s room

Or could it be as meek as a mouse?

when the elephant is present, is power red

or does a Jedi mind trick fall under power's umbrella?

is it a demanding presence

or a subtle authority?

Does power call for the use of words?

Before you say yes, keep in mind

who cares when we all face

that same loaded gun

Revised from   VVV

Power is

Is power a demanding presence
Or can it be a subtle authority
Does power call for the use of words like demanding and authority
Before you say yes, keep in mind the power Gandhi held
Is power always forthcoming
Or does a Jedi mind trick fall under power's umbrella
Do the powerful always take hold of that adjective
Or could they have the muscles but be week of mind
Could my vagina be as powerful as your penis
Or will you always dominate me
Is power red
Or could power be the soft yellow in your newborn daughter's room
Is intensity associated with power
Or could power be as meek as a mouse
And does that change for you when the elephant is present
Is power a fault or a virtue
And who cares when we are all faces with that same loaded gun

I don't, But I

I don't care about your shoe size
But I crave the sound of your steps coming into the room
I don't care about the way you wear your hair
But I long to run my hand from the creases in your forehead back and down to the nape of your neck
I don't care about the color of your eyes
But I need them looking at me
I don't care about the strength of your hands
But I want them to lead the small of my back
I don't care about the fit of your jeans
But I am enticed by the the idea of them laying on my floor
I don't care about your beard or if you shave
But I don't mind the small scratches on my inner thighs that they make
I don't care about your friends and the way they look at the idea of us
But I don't like the women on their arms
I don't care about the amount of time you devote
But I would like it to be on my calendar each day
I don't care about your demons
But I pray you don't see all of mine

The Onlooker

He, Him, His
and all the other pronoun possibilities for that man
That man makes eye contact too loooooong
What is processing or generating behind that stare?

That forever glance
That for always ogle
That never ending glare
That consistant gawk
That timeless gape
That eternal gaze
That
That
That

Stop looking looking looking at me
with that tick tick ticking watch.

Silk in China

For all the silk in China
For all the bee's honey
For all the tea in England
For all the baker's flower
For you I'd give it all

For all the tears in the ocean
For all the child's dreams
For all the curry in India
For all the streets in Rome
For you I'd give it all

But for me I kept the breaths.
Steady and sure low inside
I would need them
For you took it all in stride.

All the silk in China
All the honey from the bees
England's tea and the bakers flower
That's what you took from me.

Fully knowing and with ease
You took the tears from the ocean and
the children's dreams
You took the curry from India
and the streets from Rome.

But I still have my breath.
No
I could not give it all
and that was the death of you and me.

Break

It cums twice a day
or three times, or four
Realistically its probably
eleven or thirteen
But never more than twenty
maybe It cums more than twenty
but only when I'm
drinking and that doesn't
happen much anymore
It cums more when I'm
working, when I ned that
moment of release
That nice shaft between
your lips
Slow burning
and getting smaller over time
The warm taste on
your tongue
A deep inhale and
holding
Letting it out
slowly and each breath
having an exact purpose
Your body trembling
in ecstasy from this moment
It doesn't last long
but you can always
lite another one
It cums.
Smoke breaks are my
favorite part of the day.

Shellie

Her sheer skin seems frail
with their transparent blue tint
But her Palms, her palms
are steady for they
they have seen work
Moving and bending
Sliding in smooth waves
across the grain of
wood her hands have chosen
Friction creating a tactile smell
Her endangered wet lands that she
slaves so hard to save
is like that still moment in the morning
interrupted by broken china
Will your hands bleed for endangered tress
or will their splinters consume you
She tells me that the first aid kit
is in the bottom drawer