brownsugatou

Dear Lord,
Someone said...
I can't see the hurt in others.
For my own HURT is
Hellbent,
Unfinished,
Regurgitated,
Trash.

I can't deny why, but it sits
In a silent box and hides behind
My laughter and my smile.
Only to show up in my dark circles,
Shorter hair, resolvable health
Ailments, & my fat absorption machine.
So when one bursts my emotional
Bubble that I hide behind so frequently...
Yes, my rivers will flow.
I'll extract venom,
Ask why,
Blame my humble "nice" self,
And hit restart again.

Now wait a minute... humble might
Be too good of a box to put me in.
After all its you looking at me
Looking at you trying to condition me.

So okay,
I fuck up.
I fucked up.
I am fucking up.
But I'm not fucked up!

Therefore, "my tragedies" are not
Beyond me getting on my knees,
Praying,
Putting into action what
I know I can do,
And leaving the rest up to Him.
Amen.

What I wouldn't do right now,
To write right now,
About filling my (w)hole right now.

Stick with me.

I gotta make this poem
Whole right now.

No, I don't need YOU
To make me whole.
But what you got,
Can certainly satisfy my hole.

So, invite your friends -
Thrust & Climax.

I ain't playin' -
I can't wait to ride you.
Mmmmmm....
The chemistry, our synergy,
You'll feel good inside me.

Erotic heat, thigh beats,
Sweat beads and thick meat.

The DJ mixes sexy moans
With booty claps.

On two turntables he scratches.
Che-che-cheek slaps.

You call, I respond -
"It's yours!"

I call, you respond -
"Here I cum, here I cum."

And mmmmmmm...
My (w)hole is now filled...
Both sexually
And literally.

Time to relax the imagination...
And my index fingers. ;-)

The end.

If " nigga " and " bitch"
are "defined " as friendly terms then
why does " impoverished" , " sexism" ,
"self - hate" and " oppression " still
HURT? # ?

Finding It

I could have made you happy
But, sometimes
I gotta treat you with disdain.
Glorify and baptize my pain
In order to appease the senses of others.

And oh no I'm not apologetic.
When it's showtime - let's get it...
The blank stares, no responses, the Disclosure of your reflection in others, Or "You mighty" with the pen
Every now and again.
The physical words are just
The front door to me.

But my unhappiness is center stage,
Yet the view of the back door to me.
You don't see me (maybe through me)
Uncluttering the clutter that I get from The gutter - my perception.
I hit repeat and it becomes a
Consistently monstrous task
To me.

And I try to get it.
I wrack my brain...
Exactly where is the route to the X
That leads to this priceless treasure
That you see in me?

I don't want to plead, beg, scream, Prematurely sin in
Cotton sheets, and revoke my
Kindness 'cause he wasn't
A sheep - in order to get to
Happy through the veins
Of my poetry...

My sunflower choked on
Water but thrived in the sunshine.

Why does happiness have
To grow from the dirt that
Is slung at me?

*Not fine tuned because sometimes the best intentions for a poem can even lose my attention. As a poet, I just can't sit on idle thoughts for too long. Either the thoughts are captured or they are not. I see now that I have to develop patience for both my gift and inspiration.

Scared
Its a bitch when love is scared.
Love don't love you and,
Love don't care.
Frightening.
Yeah, check that EnVogue tune.
Love can hurt but, hurt ain't love.
Question mark.

Love can be scared
And neglected like an unwanted
Step-child by the
Always Crying Foul...

Why is your heart always
In cardiac arrest?

Remain open, don't protest,
Less stress.
Smile, attract, embrace
Your abundant lot.
Share, don't hog, be an asset.
Flip your dirt. act worthy,
And most importantly, digress.

Because really it ain't just about you.

"So stop ya' blood clot crying...
Owww." (Biggie/Jay-Z)

Because this "end" is real simple -
Have faith.

Copyright 2011
brownsugatou

Free in her beauty
She is not the status quo,
His vision is clear.

Color me negative
So, that my Mondays
Paint the whole
Damn week blue.

By brownsugatou
copyright 2011

Image by Michael Holden via Flickr

Release me,
And forget me.
I shouldn't have to tell you
How this shit goes.

See the spirit of what we had
Was escorted out of our time and space
By the pallbearers a long time ago.

I feel relief.
Unburdened from your discouraging courage
To love, even when my arms of honesty
Where always there to smother you.
Yet, I allowed you to come up for oxygen
And I mistakenly inhaled the heir of your lyin' reign.

Now that its over, your truth...
You need me even more.
Except,
I am no longer willing to bleed.
My truth?
Is right here in my comfortable paradise
Growing above and beyond you.

Release me,
And forget me.

I was really inspired to write this... sometimes feelings cannot be exhibited due to being at the wrong place at the wrong time - but I was feeling this. Enjoy!

This blog still belongs to brownsugatou the poet but is no longer affiliated with brownsugatou.com - all I can do is take it as a compliment. Someone purchased my url brownsugatou.com and is now using it as their own. However, this poet will rock on!

I miss you too ;-) ... Enjoy!

Happy National Poetry Month! It's been a while, and sometimes I cannot control the time and space in which I update this blog. But enough about me it's National Poetry Month and today's post features author and poet Jonathan Burkett. He's been featured on my blog before and believe me he's destined to keep going places and being an inspiration wherever he goes. Sit down and take a break and immerse yourself in "Destined To Be" by Jonathan Burkett.

When I stopped feeling you,
All of a sudden your lies
Became your truth.
Now my feminine intuition
Is not the only thing that
No longer believes in you.

When I stopped feeling you,
The well of my once glistening insides
Turned dry in the wake
Of your arousing presence.
And my smile proudly walked away
From the now flameless desire
I once had for you!

When I stopped feeling you,
The twinkle in my eyes
Hardened like colored Starbursts...

Me-watching-you-watching-me-watch-you.
Remember that dance?
My gaze is now perfectly
And confidently contained.

Watch me as I smirk and
Admire My New Vision therapy.

When I stopped feeling you,
I loved, loved, loved, on me,
Passionately,
Unabashedly,
Carefree,
And unashamed of the person who ignorantly But, unconditionally loved the idea of we.

When I stopped feeling you,
I erased the feel of you.

Copyright 2011
brownsugatou