Thoughts Across the Brooklyn Bridge

Below are a several pieces that will be included in a book I'm working on, Thoughts Across the Brooklyn Bridge.

Validation                                                          

The shadow of my breasts makes me
look more endowed than I am.
I swore I'd stick to chicken and quit the pig,
yet here you are, grunting beneath me.
Shrimp flavored Oodles of Noodles served with
tuna crackers is quite a feast;
being poor gives me the freedom to
feast upon such tacky fare.
Ladies, why do we care whether we're
shaped like pears or upside down triangles?
It is time for Anna to wax my brows--
I will shave my legs this evening.
Another sick ritual women take part in
to feel validated.
The first, of course,
being marriage.

ﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺ

Pretty Thugs

I ain’t no lipstick lesbian, but I get off
On sexin dykes and hardcore butches that
Fuck with brown painted dicks two shades
Too dark, understand, I don’t want no
Man, but a pretty thug nice and strong
Who can work it all night long

I need a pretty thug nice and strong
Who can work it all night long

Don’t call me no femme, but I love
Softstuds and babybutchballers, my
Androgynous tomboys and bad ass babybois
Rockin locks and braids and curly fades
With baseball caps in different shades
I love AGs in cutoff sleeves, those
Femaggressives roll in benzes watchin me
Through shaded lenses

I need a pretty thug nice and strong
Who can work it all night long
Gimmie a pretty thug nice and strong
Who can work it all night long

Don’t call me bicurious, girl, can’t
Place no labels on this girl, I just
Don’t like bisexuals, they’ll mess with
You and still fuck dudes, that’s why I
Stick to chicks with dicks, so all you femmes,
Take it from me—I gotta Ph D in Dykology

I need a pretty thug nice and strong
Who can work it all night long
Gimmie a pretty thug nice and strong
Who can work it all night long

This poem delves into the concept of labeling within the lesbian/bisexual community; the young lady who narrates this piece labels and stereotypes other women using sexual orientation as a basis, yet refuses to label herself. I ADORE both bisexual and lesbian women!

ﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺ

“A” Lipogram

Bang, bang!  Glass shards splash.

“Back, Hawk, back!” Gash’d shank,

gnarl’d hands.

“Stats, man, stats!”  Hawk has

pass’d.  Pray, man, pray.

 

“Say, man, pass a Pall Mall,” says Sam

as Graham lays lady.

Rat-a-tat-tat!  And all that jazz.

War sharks scat, fatal cap snags

Graham.  “Bastards,” says Sam.

 

What a day, man, what a day.

Crazy Cat fat as Santa laps

tankard-a-brandy.  Alabama lad

talks that twang.  “Damn fags scamm’d

da Army.”  What was that, lad?  “Tar-tar’s

rat-rat backward.”

Ha ha.

Alarm! Alarm!  Grab a gas mask

fast as ya can...

 

Alas, plan A tank’d.  Navy

capt’n stash’d cash and ran

to bank.

 ﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺﭺ

Sporadic

After 2AM, Tuesday, I wait for my train, half baked, it’s so muggy, underground railroad

gonna lead me to freedom, though,

so I keep ‘head writin’ to take my mind off un-                        

comfortable heat     Nigerian woman

been sentenced to death by stoning     People

protest, protestin’ death by stoning for suppo-

sedly cheatin’, maybe really raped     My breathin’

 sporadic down here, she has a baby     My stomach

growlin’, ain’t eat since 7PM, it’s 2AM,     Baby ‘posed

to be other man’s     breathin’ sporadic, hers will

be too after being hit with angular, fist-sized stones,

her breathing will be sporadic     My heat uncom-

fortable, her heat painful     Heat of exposed wounds,

busted skull, dry blood, sun on broken brown skin,

     heat of humiliation, degradation,     Nigerian wo-

man been sentenced to death by stoning, no more baby,

no more affair (or rape),     I barely stand stable,

vision blurred, stomach gurgling, tongue hanging out

     This will be her soon, but I’ll live to see another

 moon     and they protest, protestin’, sorry to say,

I have a feeling she’ll be stoned anyway    If

she’s lucky, someone will have mercy, toss

 an angular, fist-sized stone at temple,     Uncon-

scious, she will elevate, celebrate outer body release,

     She will elevate to a higher spiritual plane, for her past

life’s debts will have, at last, been paid

 

 

 

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