love poems: rivers and trees (for alton)

i think i love a ghostor a manor a man who may be ghost tomorrowthat is to sayi love he whose skin is worth its weightit is gold. it is black.or maybe his skin is the grim reaper's shadowmaybe i am in love with death's shadowand i just want to love him under the sunsometimes you are a riversometimes they make you a riversometimes they make your blood flow red, like a riverAlton, you are a river nowmaybe now they will call you by namethey will have to call you Mississippi or maybe Atchafalayathey can no longer call you felonyou, river, are mighty and vastthey cannot contain youmaybe you will take rootmaybe you will become a treeand they will eat from youthey've always liked to pick us before we are ripeor leave us, hanginghow much black flesh rots in white bellies, tonight?how much strange fruit rots in white bellies, tonight?have we not been served on silver platters, silver bulletsare they not full yet?is it a god complexthat makes them want to turn us into rivers and trees?is it not the seventh day? will they not take rest?are flowers just the ashes of forgotten gold black people?maybe this is what it means when it was writtenof earth you were made and to it you shall returnwill they turn my lover into a river or tree?will i have to learn how to swim or climb to be near him?if i sit under his shade, is it just the grim reaper following me?i just want to love him under the sun.

love poems: tilted crown

oneblack boys rap about their dick sizehow they'll bust this pussy wide openlike the .45 that killed his best friendskull bust wide openbrain matter on grounda mind is a terrible thing to wastehard to get out of concretehe can't sleep at nightvisions of it haunt himsees himself in the morguewhite sheets and coffinseveryday he prepares for battleso his dick becomes his gunand he don't shoot no blank shotssays he wants to put a baby in me'cause he don't think he'll last longwhere he's from, black boys don't last longand black girls lay on our backsspread our legs for these boysspread ourselves for these boyslet them slide inside of uswhile they try to find their way homethey think it makes them men when they comebackshotsso they write rap songs about how they'll kill this pussy'cause, there's a war in the streets, ya know?twohave you ever tried to love a man who thinks that death is chasing him?have him weep between your breasts and ask you to pray for him?i haveand it feels like the darkest night and the sweetest dawnto watch the phoenix right before he rises from the ashand we sit here and break our bones for youwe beat our chests in grief for the men you have becomelost boys of blacknesswho wander through the ruins of the kingdom that you foundtitled crown, how does it feel to have lost it all?titled crown, how does it feel to have lost it all?and he says to me,'bitch don't tell me 'bout no kingdomjust let me kill this pussy'cause there's a war in the streets, ya know?

love poems: gold dust

my body is Africamen want to discover their rootsthrough my watersso they tell me,'girl, i'll make you weep for me.''girl, i'll make you wet for me.'they want to colonize my bodybut my flesh is my ownmy soul belongs to memy mouth is full of diamondsuse your hands to dig into my earthyour hands were meant to dig into my earthyou will fight to say you belong to mewear me on fingers and necks and teethcannot lick lips without tasting mei make these niggas remember they're kings(i make these boys remember they're kings)i burn incense at night when i praydance myself cleanbreasts and thighs tremble like thunderthat calls out to me in lucid dreamsmy hair grows wild and freelike the heart of memy people have seen some crazy shitLiberia's refugeesso pardon me and my iniquitiesit seems i have inherited the family geneof women who carry wounds that are heavier than weso i call myself strong and not breakingbut my God am i breakingi am crumblingthis is how gold dust is mademy life has been a graveyardmy family tree a weeping willowblack menfathers and brothers and lovers of mesit beneath these leavestake cover from my lightshade themselves from my needsmy hips bend and curve like river streamthey all want to drink from memy cup runneth over, they are quenchedi bring lifei have given them lifethey are birthed of me

Love Poems: Mango

[embed]https://soundcloud.com/blackloveprjct/mango[/embed]i wrote this while i ate a mango with my right handi licked the juices that ran down my armmy mouth was full of yellow fruitand i imagined this is how your skin would tasteif i brushed my lips against ithow sweet it isi bite deeper into the flesh,peel the skin with my teeththis is how my mother taught meto eat a mango. this is how her mothertaught her to eat a mango. this is howLiberia taught us to eat a mango.to the bone. sitting down. close to earth.did you know that i see the weather in your eyes?we are in drought, my loveyou have not cried in yearsi want to know the things you've seenshow me your bonestell me real Richmond talesblack kinghow strange it must beto live in a world that does not bow at your feetthey have made a slave of youthey have made a slave of youthey have made a slave of you, my godthey have changed your name from man to niggaand sometimes you've answeredyour world is littered with black bodies searchingsearching for something better than thissearching for a way outsearching for a place to call homethis land of the free wants nothing to do with your freedomit wants you to die a thousand deaths in one dayit wants your sweat and blood and silenceit is the thing this country is made ofblack silence. black sufferance.white houses built by black hands upon red bonesthey have made a slave of youand every day is anotherchance at liberationbaby, get freefind that kingdom that rests inside your headand in the darkest of nightsas the world turns on your shouldersknow that my love is with youit is heavy and aching and patientto the bone. for the soul. close to God.this is how my mother taught me to love a man.this is how her mother taught her to love a man.this is how our bloodlines taught us to love a man. 

Love Poems: Vanity

[embed]https://soundcloud.com/blackloveprjct/vanity[/embed]you once said something about being a reflection of meif that is the casethen you've shown me i am beautifulblack and proudin you i see how lonely and sadand selfish i amhow strong and full of hope i amhow small i feelhow i carry my wounds like crosses toCalvary and call out my Holy Father's nameAdonai, it is finishedGolgotha weepsi use words to describe love i've only dreamed ofbut have never tasteddo not know how to givei whisper bedtime stories to lovers about past life love affairsand caresses that stop timeyou inside of meme on top of youbodies writhingin rhythms given by ancestors'we are one', you saidgrowing seedsbrown babies who will notsee the things we've seenwill not know sorrowmaybe a better family than we hadmaybe this will eat our lonelinessmaybe if we call it lovewe will forget that goodbyes come unexpectedlybut they always comeit is truei do see myself in youi recognize untold pains masked in solid shellsometimes i crumble when the morning breaksmy roots ache and stretchsomething calls to me from the fog of these bayousis it you or me?oh loveryou have shown me your true colorsyou have shown me myself in multitudesso i thank youAdonai, it is finishedGolgotha weeps

Love Poems: if this is goodbye

[embed]https://soundcloud.com/blackloveprjct/love-poems-if-this-is-goodbye[/embed]he says:'if this is goodbyelet me leave you with this'and goes on to speak in metaphorsand riddlesabout games and how he is merely a playerhe's just here so he doesn't get finedi sit in silence and listenas he explains that even in lovehe does not play to winhe thinks i play to win because i love himas if that is not the point of it allas if i do not see myself in himas if i was not born to a motherless fatherso i know what it means to love menwho search for healing in womenbut do not know how to love themthey do not know how to be softhe is colderhardened man, beautiful souldark eyes that peerlook into mei do not breathe. electricity.he feels it too and calls it dangerousbut does not look awayasks what i'm thinkingeverything and nothingi tell him things i do not meanand things that rest in silencewords i will not speakwords he will not hearuntil two in the morningwhen God tells me to'write the things you cannot speak'so i write'if this is goodbyelet me leave you with this'love is not a gamewe are not team matesmy heart not made from leatherit pumps and bleedsi am a whole woman whohas opened herself to a darkchild who burns golden gate bridgesif this is goodbye may you learn to notsearch for yourself in the hearts of womendo not sell them your loneliness and call it lovethey will believe youi believed you

love poems: emotional selectivity

i get iteveryone you've loved has left youyour deep eyes have seen thedark shadows of death as they sweepthrough corners of the bayyou steel yourself to thosewho want to stay because youhave not met anyone who does not leavepeople come and goas do the sun and moonthis is lifecircular momentsyou are roaming the earthto find the thing that is calling youperhaps it is your soul askingfor your returnyou have not written letters home and it misses youknow that as you roamif with each stepyou forget the cadence of my voicei too will forget yoursbut if i continueto come to you in dreamsbe assured that youstill haunt me, too