You're exibitin' signs of illin'

So I got my book today that had my third published poem. It is the poem "Rose-Colored Glasses" from the blog post "Not a Beach Body but Still a Babe".   My mom is coming into town this weekend.  My brother has to tell her he lost his job.  Sigh.  At least she didn't bring her fiancé. Snark.

Shift and sway and flutter, flutter, flutter
Deep in transit, changing forms

All the best words are sexual ones.  Because let's face it the things we describe with sexual words are the best things, the coolest things.  If we aren't using sex then we are using drugs, like saying things are dope.  Dope is dope. Duh. We like things that are raw and deep and intimate and real.  What's more real than sweat glistening along your back and the slow sway of hips against each other?  Than hot breath making the air humid and sticky and thick.  As thick as a man holding nothing back.  I say it, you can see it.  You can feel it.  Maybe taste it.  That's what words like that do.  Words are power.

I wrote a new poem today.



Vision

Ripples, like water rushing over my body,
in the open spaces of consumption
where a transparent weight fills the blithe corners with sight
and sinks into my bronchi with the full force of disillusionment,

all while my fingers fiddle with the time bomb of change
and inertia that creates a tiny crater of doubt
and confusion before half-closed eyes that critique,
elucidating choices that deteriorate reverie—

ghosting past cerebral restrictions,
melting through tenuous fibers of idealism,
digging into roots submerged by “augmentation”,
wandering amongst endless streams of discernment.


Bonfire - Knife Party
Put a little swagger in your hoppity hip hop. (Also, check out centipede while your there)

Black Stacey - Saul Williams
Loving Saul Williams.  Check out his other stuff on there to, like "Twice the First Time" and "Gypsy Girl" and "List of Demands".  Just look and listen.


Deeply,
Mav