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Lucy Looking For Diamonds

Peek-a-boo! I see you!
Lurking about, Brazilian pal
Great poems you pursue
You poet femme fatale

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Old Gold Diggin' Geezer

Peek a boo doo peek a boo doo,
Peek a boo doo boo!
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
Peek a boo doo peek a boo doo,
Peek a boo doo boo!
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.

You just wanna ride in my car.
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
And take you to places to feed your greedness.
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
Peek a boo doo peek a boo doo,
Peek a boo doo boo!
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.

You just wanna have an easy life.
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
And you think I'm the one gon' give it!
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
Peek a boo doo peek a boo doo,
Peek a boo doo boo!
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.

You ain't got a mortgage or a lease on me.
None that we've agreed upon.
And none that you can see.
You ain't got a ring or a title to keep me leashed up tight.
And what you think I've got,
You're not gonna get that close to take a bite!
With or without your teeth behind your 'grill'...
You old gold diggin' geezer!

Peek a boo doo peek a boo doo,
Peek a boo doo boo!
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
Peek a boo doo peek a boo doo,
Peek a boo doo boo!
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.

You just wanna ride in my car.

[...] Read more

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Femme Fatale

Here she comes,
You better watch youre step.
Shes going to break your heart in two, its true.
Its not hard to realise
Just look into those false coloured eyes,
Shell build to up just to put you down, what a clown,
Coz everybody knows...
(shes a femme fatale)
Things she does to please (shes a femme fatale)
Shes just a little tease (shes a femme fatale)
See the way she walks
Hear the way she talks
Youre written in her book,
Youre number 37, take a look
Shes going to smile to make you frown, what a clown.
Little boy shes from the street
Before you start youre already beat
Shes going to play you for a fool, yes its true,
Coz everybody kowns...
(chorus)
(yeh, I seen that girl, so man, I know where youre
Commin from. shes all lips and eyes and legs, and then
Its great, but you know what, shes going to mess you up pal..)
She will try to put you down,
The hardest girl around,
Coz everybody knows...
Things she does to please
Shes just a little tease
A everybody knows..
Shes a femme fatale..
Shes a femme fatale..
Shes a femme fatale..
Shes a femme fatale..
Shes a femme fatale..
Shes a femme fatale..
Shes a femme fatale..
Shes a femme fatale..
Shes a femme fatale..

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Lord, What Is This About?

Boo doo doo boop.
Boo doo doo boop.
Boo doo doo boop.
Boo doo doo boop.
Boo doo doo boop.

There are times when I,
Understand...
And,
Then there come those times when I don't think I can.
Boo doo doo boop.
Boo doo doo boop.
Boo doo doo boop.
Boo doo doo boop.
Boo doo doo boop.
Boo doo doo...
There are times when I,
Understand...
And,
Then there come those times when I don't think I can.
Boo doo doo boop.
Boo doo doo boop.
Boo doo doo...

Then I find myself alone just weeping out my eyes for people.

Lord...
What is this about?

Then I find myself alone just weeping out my eyes for people.

Lord...
What is this about?
Boo doo doo boop.
Boo doo doo boop.
Boo doo doo...

Lord...
What is this about?
Boo doo doo boop.
Boo doo doo boop.
Boo doo doo...

Lord...
What is this about?

Then I find myself alone just weeping out my eyes for people.
Lord...
What is this about?
Then I find myself alone just weeping out my eyes for people.

[...] Read more

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Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Peek-A-Boo

The cunningest thing that a baby can do
Is the very first time it plays peek-a-boo;


When it hides its pink little face in its hands,
And crows, and shows that it understands


What nurse, and mamma and papa, too,
Mean when they hide and cry, 'Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo.'


Oh, what a wonderful thing it is,
When they find that baby can play like this;


And everyone listens, and thinks it true
That baby's gurgle means 'Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo';


And over and over the changes are rung
On the marvelous infant who talks so young.


I wonder if any one ever knew
A baby that never played peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo.


'Tis old as the hills are. I believe
Cain was taught it by Mother Eve;


For Cain was an innocent baby, too,
And I am sure he played peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo.


And the whole world full of the children of men,
Have all of them played that game since then.


Kings and princes and beggars, too,
Everyone has played peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo.


Thief and robber and ruffian bold,
The crazy tramp and the drunkard old,


All have been babies who laughed and knew
How to hide, and play peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo.

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My Boo

My Boo"
(feat. Alicia Keys)
[Usher intro:]
There's always that one person
That will always have your heart
You'll never see it coming
Cause you're blinded from the start
Know that you're that one for me
It's clear for everyone to see
Ooh baby ooh you'll always be my boo
[Alicia intro:]
I don't know bout cha'll
But I know about us and uh
This is the only way
We know how to rock
I don't know bout cha'll
But I know about us and uh
This is the only way
We know how to rock
[Usher Verse:]
Do you remember girl
I was the one who gave you your first kiss
Cause I remember girl
I was the one who said put your lips like this
Even before all the fame and
People screaming your name
Girl I was there when you were my baby
[Chorus:]
[Usher:]
It started when we were younger
You were mine my boo
Now another brother's taking over
But its still in your eyes my boo
Even though we used to argue it's alright
I know we haven't seen each other
In awhile but you will always be my boo
[Alicia:]
I was in love with you when we were younger
You were mine my boo
And I see it from time to time
I still feel like my boo
And I can see it no matter
How I try to hide my boo
Even though there's another man who's in my life
You will always be my boo
[Alicia Verse:]
Yes I remember boy
Cause after we kissed
I could only think about your lips
Yes I remember boy

[...] Read more

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Femme Fatale

Here she comes, you better watch your step
She's going to break your heart in two, it's true
It's not hard to realize
Just look into her false colored eyes
She builds you up to just put you down, down
Cause everybody knows (She's a femme fatale)
The things she does to please (She's a femme fatale)
She's just a little tease (She's a femme fatale)
See the way she walks
Hear the way she talks
Little boy, she's from the street
Before you start, you're already beat
She's gonna play you for a fool, yes it's true
Cause everybody knows (She's a femme fatale)
The things she does to please (She's a femme fatale)
She's just a little tease (She's a femme fatale)
See the way she walks
Hear the way she talks

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Femme Fatale

(reed)
Here she comes, you better watch your step
Shes going to break your heart in two, its true
Its not hard to realize
Just look into her false colored eyes
She builds you up to just put you down, what a clown
cause everybody knows (shes a femme fatale)
The things she does to please (shes a femme fatale)
Shes just a little tease (shes a femme fatale)
See the way she walks
Hear the way she talks
Youre written in her book
Youre number 37, have a look
Shes going to smile to make you frown, what a clown
Little boy, shes from the street
Before you start, youre already beat
Shes gonna play you for a fool, yes its true
cause everybody knows (shes a femme fatale)
The things she does to please (shes a femme fatale)
Shes just a little tease (shes a femme fatale)
See the way she walks
Hear the way she talks

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Booty-Boo-Doo-The Caboose

I'm not going to hide,
Any love you see this evening.
I'm much too needing on my side...
And I want it known as shown,
I've come with... some pride.

I'm not going to hide inside of me,
This evening.
Too much I let collect in dust.
And too much I don't want to get rusty.
I've got enough in me to boot and hoot.

It doesn't matter if my ladder,
Can get up to reach the roof!

I know my ladder apparatus,
And it's there to give a boost.

Booty-boo-doo-the caboose.
I know my ladder apparatus,
And it's there to give a boost.

Booty-boo-doo-the caboose.
I know my ladder apparatus,
And it's there to give a boost.

Booty-boo-doo-the cabooster.
Booty-boo-doo-the caboose.
Booty-boo-doo-the cabooster.
Booty-boo-doo-the caboose.

Booty-boo-doo-the cabooster.
I know my ladder apparatus,
And it's there to give a boost.

I'm not going to hide inside of me,
This evening.
Too much I let collect in dust.
And too much I don't want to get rusty.
I've got enough in me to boot and hoot.

Booty-boo-doo-the cabooster.
I know my ladder apparatus,
And it's there to give a boost.
I know my ladder apparatus,
And it's there to give a boost.

Booty-boo-doo-the cabooster.
Booty-boo-doo-the caboose.

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Throw Them Back To The Wolves

Throw them back to the wolves.
The ones released from cellblock envy.
Throw them back to the wolves.
Those who love their crime defined.
Throw them back to the wolves.
Those who break laws all the time.
With nothing but 'bling' on their minds.
Throw them back to the wolves.
Trouble makers showing butt.
Groom to believe they should give it up.
Throw them back to the wolves.
Victims of their own disguises.
Throw them back to the wolves.
Raised on 'rap' and packing 'heat'.
Dimmed with wit is their destiny...
This was how they were raised to be.

Detoxed and recovered.
From baubles, beads and bangles hanging.
Some don't want to have another...
Victimizing chain of gold,
To prove to anyone they're bold.

Leaving streets to the others.
Those who choose to do their 'thing'
From swagger punted schoolyard swings...
And learning from demented idols.
Who could care less who is destressed.

Throw them back to the wolves.
The ones released from cellblock envy.
Throw them back to the wolves.
Those who love their crime defined.
Throw them back to the wolves.
Those who break laws all the time.
With nothing but 'bling' on their minds.
Throw them back to the wolves.
Trouble makers showing butt.
Groom to believe they should give it up.
Throw them back to the wolves.
Victims of their own disguises.
Throw them back to the wolves.
Raised on 'rap' and packing 'heat'.
Dimmed with wit is their destiny...
This was how they were raised to be.

Throw them back to the wolves.
Boo doo doo boo doo boo boo doo.
Throw them back to the wolves.
Boo doo boo doo boo do boo do!

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Walt Whitman

Salut Au Monde

O TAKE my hand, Walt Whitman!
Such gliding wonders! such sights and sounds!
Such join'd unended links, each hook'd to the next!
Each answering all--each sharing the earth with all.

What widens within you, Walt Whitman?
What waves and soils exuding?
What climes? what persons and lands are here?
Who are the infants? some playing, some slumbering?
Who are the girls? who are the married women?
Who are the groups of old men going slowly with their arms about each
other's necks?
What rivers are these? what forests and fruits are these?
What are the mountains call'd that rise so high in the mists?
What myriads of dwellings are they, fill'd with dwellers?

Within me latitude widens, longitude lengthens;
Asia, Africa, Europe, are to the east--America is provided for in the
west;
Banding the bulge of the earth winds the hot equator,
Curiously north and south turn the axis-ends;
Within me is the longest day--the sun wheels in slanting rings--it
does not set for months;
Stretch'd in due time within me the midnight sun just rises above the
horizon, and sinks again;
Within me zones, seas, cataracts, plants, volcanoes, groups,
Malaysia, Polynesia, and the great West Indian islands.

What do you hear, Walt Whitman?

I hear the workman singing, and the farmer's wife singing;
I hear in the distance the sounds of children, and of animals early
in the day;
I hear quick rifle-cracks from the riflemen of East Tennessee and
Kentucky, hunting on hills;
I hear emulous shouts of Australians, pursuing the wild horse;
I hear the Spanish dance, with castanets, in the chestnut shade, to
the rebeck and guitar;
I hear continual echoes from the Thames;
I hear fierce French liberty songs;
I hear of the Italian boat-sculler the musical recitative of old
poems;
I hear the Virginia plantation-chorus of negroes, of a harvest night,
in the glare of pine-knots;
I hear the strong baritone of the 'long-shore-men of Mannahatta;
I hear the stevedores unlading the cargoes, and singing;
I hear the screams of the water-fowl of solitary north-west lakes;
I hear the rustling pattering of locusts, as they strike the grain
and grass with the showers of their terrible clouds;
I hear the Coptic refrain, toward sundown, pensively falling on the

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Z. Comments

CRYSTAL GLOW

Madhur Veena Comment: Who is she? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ....You write good!

Margaret Alice Comment: Beautiful, it stikes as heartfelt words and touches the heart, beautiful sentiments, sorry, I repeat myself, but I am delighted. Your poem is like the trinkets I collect to adorn my personal space, pure joy to read, wonderful! Only a beautiful mind can harbour such sentiments, you have a beautiful mind. I am glad you have found someone that inspires you to such heights and that you share it with us, you make the world a mroe wonderful place.

Margaret Alice Comment: Within the context set by the previous poem, “Cosmic Probe”, the description of a lover’s adoration for his beloved becomes a universal ode sung to the abstract values of love, joy and hope personified by light, colours, fragrance and beauty, qualities the poet assigns to his beloved, thus elevating her to the status of an uplifting force because she brings all these qualities to his attention. The poet recognises that these personified values brings him fulfilment and chose the image of a love relationship to illustrate how this comes about; thus a love poem becomes the vehicle to convey spiritual epiphany.


FRAGRANT JASMINE

Margaret Alice Comment: Your words seem to be directed to a divine entity, you seem to be addressing your adoration to a divinity, and it is wonderful to read of such sublime sentiments kindled in a human soul. Mankind is always lifted up by their vision and awareness of divinity, thank you for such pure, clear diction and sharing your awareness of the sublime with us, you have uplifted me so much by this vision you have created!

Margaret Alice Comment: The poet’s words seem to be directed to a divine entity, express adoration to a divinity who is the personification of wonderful qualities which awakens a sense of the sublime in the human soul. An uplifting vision and awareness of uplifting qualities of innocence represented by a beautiful person.


I WENT THERE TO BID HER ADIEU

Kente Lucy Comment: wow great writing, what a way to bid farewell

Margaret Alice Comment: Sensory experience is elevated by its symbolical meaning, your description of the scene shows two souls becoming one and your awareness of the importance of tempory experience as a symbol of the eternal duration of love and companionship - were temporary experience only valid for one moment in time, it would be a sad world, but once it is seen as a symbol of eternal things, it becomes enchanting.


I’M INCOMPLETE WITHOUT YOU

Margaret Alice Comment: You elevate the humnan experience of longing for love to a striving for sublimity in uniting with a beloved person, and this poem is stirring, your style of writing is effective, everything flows together perfectly.

Margaret Alice Comment:

'To a resplendent glow of celestial flow
And two split halves unite never to part.'

Reading your fluent poems is a delight, I have to tear myself away and return to the life of a drudge, but what a treasure trove of jewels you made for the weary soul who needs to contemplate higher ideals from time to time!


IN CELESTIAL WINGS

Margaret Alice Comment: When you describe how you are strengthened by your loved one, it is clear that your inner flame is so strong that you need not fear growing old, your spirit seems to become stronger, you manage to convey this impression by your striking poetry. It is a privilege to read your work.

Obed Dela Cruz Comment: wow.... i remembered will shakespeare.... nice poem!

Margaret Alice Comment: The poet has transcended the barriers of time and space by becoming an image of his beloved and being able to find peace in the joy he confers to his beloved.

'You transcend my limits, transcend my soul, I forget my distress in your thoughts And discover my peace in your joy, For, I’m mere image of you, my beloved.'

Margaret Alice Comment: You are my peace and solace, I know, I am, yours too; A mere flash of your thoughts Enlivens my tired soul And fills me with light, peace and solace, A giant in new world, I become, I rise to divine heights in celestial wings. How I desire to reciprocate To fill you with light and inner strength raise you to divine heights; I must cross over nd hold you in arms, light up your soul, Fill you with strength from my inner core, Wipe away your tears burst out in pure joy How I yearn to instill hope and confidence in you we never part And we shall wait, till time comes right. the flame in my soul always seeks you, you transcend my limits, transcend my soul, I forget my distress in your thoughts And discover my peace in your joy, For, I’m mere image of you, my beloved.


RAGING FIRE

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Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Fifth Book

AURORA LEIGH, be humble. Shall I hope
To speak my poems in mysterious tune
With man and nature,–with the lava-lymph
That trickles from successive galaxies
Still drop by drop adown the finger of God,
In still new worlds?–with summer-days in this,
That scarce dare breathe, they are so beautiful?–
With spring's delicious trouble in the ground
Tormented by the quickened blood of roots.
And softly pricked by golden crocus-sheaves
In token of the harvest-time of flowers?–
With winters and with autumns,–and beyond,
With the human heart's large seasons,–when it hopes
And fears, joys, grieves, and loves?–with all that strain
Of sexual passion, which devours the flesh
In a sacrament of souls? with mother's breasts,
Which, round the new made creatures hanging there,
Throb luminous and harmonious like pure spheres?–
With multitudinous life, and finally
With the great out-goings of ecstatic souls,
Who, in a rush of too long prisoned flame,
Their radiant faces upward, burn away
This dark of the body, issuing on a world
Beyond our mortal?–can I speak my verse
So plainly in tune to these things and the rest,
That men shall feel it catch them on the quick,
As having the same warrant over them
To hold and move them, if they will or no,
Alike imperious as the primal rhythm
Of that theurgic nature? I must fail,
Who fail at the beginning to hold and move
One man,–and he my cousin, and he my friend,
And he born tender, made intelligent,
Inclined to ponder the precipitous sides
Of difficult questions; yet, obtuse to me,–
Of me, incurious! likes me very well,
And wishes me a paradise of good,
Good looks, good means, and good digestion!–ay,
But otherwise evades me, puts me off
With kindness, with a tolerant gentleness,–
Too light a book for a grave man's reading! Go,
Aurora Leigh: be humble.
There it is;
We women are too apt to look to one,
Which proves a certain impotence in art.
We strain our natures at doing something great,
Far less because it's something great to do,
Than, haply, that we, so, commend ourselves
As being not small, and more appreciable
To some one friend. We must have mediators

[...] Read more

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Can I Get a Witness?

If people are not reading...
That does not mean,
A comprehension is not welcomed.

If they are not feeding,
From beliefs...
They too are qualified,
To allow thinking to be done!

And as this ignorance is toasted and spread...
By some who are fed,
They can only achieve by keeping suppression,
Dealt to those oppressed instead.
A lowered standard of life...
Lowers below that of a flower bed.
And an acceptance only blooms,
A stench to climb like vines on fences.
Getting the attention,
Of hard thickened heads!

'Some fools can't see,
Their outlooks can be foolish.
When they perceive,
Themselves kings and queens.
And when they become,
Stung by all their madnesss...
They choose to speed up,
Their own suffering! '

Let us sway with the rhythm.
In dimmed lighting, please.

'Some fools can't see,
Their outlooks can be foolish! '

That's right...
Lower the lights.

'When they perceive,
Themselves as kings and queens.'

Pass the crumbs to those humming.

'When they become,
Stung by all their madness.'

Can I get a witness?

'They choose to speed up,
Their own suffering! '

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Beroop Bah Doo Doo Dop...Boo Dah. Ow

You got the better of the best than the rest...
And you keep them guessing,
Who's got the lesser heat?
They stand up on their feet to see.

Even if connected and you show them it's not hectic...
While you keep on stepping,
They stare in disbelief.
They'd like to slap you with a penalty.

They choose to boot you as a pooper.
They want a scoop...
To loop on the news.

They wish to swish a dishing duper.
And they don't like that groove...
You are moving too smooth.

You got the better of the best than the rest...
And you keep them guessing,
Who's got the lesser heat?
They stand up on their feet to see.

Bah doo doo dop, boo dah...
Dah dah.
Bah doo doo dop, boo dah...
Dah dah.
Bah doo doo dop, boo dah...
Dah dah.
Bah doo doo dop, boo dah...
Dah dah.

You got the better of the best than the rest...
And you keep them guessing,
Who's got the lesser heat?
They stand up on their feet to see.

Even if connected and you show them it's not hectic...
While you keep on stepping,
They stare in disbelief.
They'd like to slap you with a penalty.

They choose to boot you as a pooper.
They want a scoop...
To loop on the news.

They wish to swish a dishing duper.
And they don't like that groove...
You are moving too smooth.

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Walt Whitman

Starting From Paumanok

STARTING from fish-shape Paumanok, where I was born,
Well-begotten, and rais'd by a perfect mother;
After roaming many lands--lover of populous pavements;
Dweller in Mannahatta, my city--or on
southern savannas;
Or a soldier camp'd, or carrying my knapsack and gun--or a miner in
California;
Or rude in my home in Dakota's woods, my diet meat, my drink from the
spring;
Or withdrawn to muse and meditate in some deep recess,
Far from the clank of crowds, intervals passing, rapt and happy;
Aware of the fresh free giver, the flowing Missouri--aware of mighty
Niagara;
Aware of the buffalo herds, grazing the plains--the hirsute and
strong-breasted bull; 10
Of earth, rocks, Fifth-month flowers, experienced--stars, rain, snow,
my amaze;
Having studied the mocking-bird's tones, and the mountainhawk's,
And heard at dusk the unrival'd one, the hermit thrush from the
swamp-cedars,
Solitary, singing in the West, I strike up for a New World.


Victory, union, faith, identity, time,
The indissoluble compacts, riches, mystery,
Eternal progress, the kosmos, and the modern reports.

This, then, is life;
Here is what has come to the surface after so many throes and
convulsions.

How curious! how real! 20
Underfoot the divine soil--overhead the sun.

See, revolving, the globe;
The ancestor-continents, away, group'd together;
The present and future continents, north and south, with the isthmus
between.

See, vast, trackless spaces;
As in a dream, they change, they swiftly fill;
Countless masses debouch upon them;
They are now cover'd with the foremost people, arts, institutions,
known.

See, projected, through time,
For me, an audience interminable. 30

With firm and regular step they wend--they never stop,
Successions of men, Americanos, a hundred millions;

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You are the poet

Poet is a journalist
Watches the feelings
Watches the emotions
Watches the world
Watches the light and
Watches the dark
He thinks everywhere
Others can’t imagine

-o-

Chasing the thoughts
Searching the words
Forming the sentences
To give the expression
To put the life in it

-o-

Poet is like a cook
Collecting good ingredients
Cooking the feelings to
Present in better way

-o-

Poet is like a soldier
Fighting in the war and
Fighting with the self
Feeling the pain and
Bleeding the emotions
Making room for self
To express the story
To save the people

-o-

Poet is like mother
Cooking the soft food
Feeding smoothly
Treating the readers like his own kids
Reader’s happiness is poet’s happiness
If you can’t praise, no problem
But don’t forget to acknowledge
-o-

Poet is the center of universe
Editors, Music directors,
Composers, singers, musicians,
Media everybody is rotating around

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Tale V

THE PATRON.

A Borough-Bailiff, who to law was train'd,
A wife and sons in decent state maintain'd,
He had his way in life's rough ocean steer'd
And many a rock and coast of danger clear'd;
He saw where others fail'd, and care had he,
Others in him should not such feelings see:
His sons in various busy states were placed,
And all began the sweets of gain to taste,
Save John, the younger, who, of sprightly parts,
Felt not a love for money-making arts:
In childhood feeble, he, for country air,
Had long resided with a rustic pair;
All round whose room were doleful ballads, songs,
Of lovers' sufferings and of ladies' wrongs;
Of peevish ghosts who came at dark midnight,
For breach of promise, guilty men to fright;
Love, marriage, murder, were the themes, with

these,
All that on idle, ardent spirits seize;
Robbers at land and pirates on the main,
Enchanters foil'd, spells broken, giants slain;
Legends of love, with tales of halls and bowers,
Choice of rare songs, and garlands of choice

flowers,
And all the hungry mind without a choice devours.
From village-children kept apart by pride,
With such enjoyments, and without a guide,
Inspired by feelings all such works infused,
John snatch'd a pen, and wrote as he perused:
With the like fancy he could make his knight
Slay half a host, and put the rest to flight;
With the like knowledge he could make him ride
From isle to isle at Parthenissa's side;
And with a heart yet free, no busy brain
Form'd wilder notions of delight and pain,
The raptures smiles create, the anguish of disdain.
Such were the fruits of John's poetic toil -
Weeds, but still proofs of vigour in the soil:
He nothing purposed but with vast delight,
Let Fancy loose, and wonder'd at her flight:
His notions of poetic worth were high,
And of his own still-hoarded poetry; -
These to his father's house he bore with pride,
A miser's treasure, in his room to hide;
Till spurr'd by glory, to a reading friend,
He kindly show'd the sonnets he had penn'd:

[...] Read more

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Dilemma

I love and I need you
Nelly, I love you, I do
Need you
No matter what I do
All I think about is you
Even when Im with my boo
Boy, you know Im crazy over you
No matter what I do
All I think about is you
Even when Im with my boo
You know Im crazy over you
Uh-uh-uh-uh
I met this chick and she just moved right up the block
From me
And she got the hots for me, the finest thing I need
To see
But oh, no, no, she got a man and a son, oh-oh, but
Thats okay
cause I wait for my cue and just listen, play my
Position
Like a shortstop, pick up erything mami hittin
And in no time I better make this friend mine and
Thats for sure
cause i-i never been the type to break up a happy
Home
But theres something bout baby girl, I just cant
Leave her lone
So tell me, ma, whats it gonna be
She said, you dont know what you mean to me, come
On
No matter what I do
All I think about is you
Even when Im with my boo
Boy, you know Im crazy over you
No matter what I do
All I think about is you
Even when Im with my boo
You know Im crazy over you
Uh-uh-uh-uh
I see a lot in your look and I never say a word
I know how n****s start actin trippin , and hate up
All the girls
And theres no way nelly go for it
Aint f***in with no dame, as you could see
But i-i like your steeze, your style, your whole
Demeanor
The way you come through and holler, and swoop me in
His two-seater
Now thats gangsta and I got special ways to thank ya,
Dont you forget it

[...] Read more

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Peek-a-boo!

Peek-a-boo!
I can see you
And I know what you do
So put your hands on your face
And cover up your eyes
Dont look until I signal
Peek-a-boo! peek-a-boo! peek-a-boo!
The way that we werent is what well become
So please pay attention while I show you some
Of whats about to happen
Peek-a-boo!
I know what you do
Cause I do it too
Laugh if you want to or say you dont care
If you cannot see it you think its not there
It doesnt work that way

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The History Poems Have Not Been Written

The history poems have not been written
The poems after Milosz
The Wallace Stevens poems will never be written
I can’t come close
I have tried the Blake poems
But of course I am not near them either
I would like to the ironic intellectual poems
I might be able to do them
I could do a kind of surrealistic association mind poem a prose poem
But I don’t like that very much
The poems of Jerusalem have not been good enough
Poems of propaganda are awkward and unacceptable
The small poems that tell of my life
They are for me the chance at real poetry
And I will continue as best I can with them
The American poems I have not yet found the idiom for
I can be epigrammatic in Emerson Thoreau fashion
But not with the hard New England observing eye
Borges poems I love
And the stories of mind and literature
Making the drama of a life of a storyteller
Interest me
But I doubt I could truly do them well
Imitation can only take one so far
And through it one may lose one’s way entirely
I can really do only what I am
Not the Dickinson poems nor the Hopkins poems nor the Wordsworth poems nor the Keats poems nor the Amichai poems nor the poems of many others whose poetry I love
The Biblical poems have been tried
The poems of cosmic and scientific reflection
I could try to improve them
There are too many different kinds of poems to write
And I cannot write almost all of them
This is another poem about poems and poetry
I have written many for a long time now
Perhaps I need to go elsewhere and write in a new way
A way I have not dreamed or even remotely understood possible before.
The poems of the unknown poetry await me
I will go on but I am not sure now I know in which wa

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