The usual

“I want to have sex with you”
is all that you’re saying.
A wordsmith whose net
tricks the mind into saying,
“yes.”

A mind that wouldn’t otherwise
have time to entertain
the agenda of some horny guy
smooth talking the same
mess

as the guy on the street
that sucked his teeth
when he saw the curve of
her butt in them jeans

and shot his best game
crude as it was to her
which encouraged you
hoping your skills she’d prefer

so you dip in the mix of spells
stored in your brain
making your play for
your pleasure, her pain

hoping to persuade her
you’ve got what it takes
to make it worth her while
to give you a shake

but the time you spend dancing
to get her attention
takes its toll on your prayer
that your prey will relax
and

the longer you take
her interest may fade
tired of hearing big talkers
who can’t close, or get paid

stop talking
stop chasing
stop scheming on trim
do something
make moves
set your sights on big plans

open a business
father the fatherless
cut the grass on your street

look out for the helpless
shelter the homeless
teach the hungry how to eat

you wanna know the greatest aphrodisiac
it’s not the the black man who takes
but the one who gives back

but say you do grab her mind
with your sensual rhymes
and get deep in her heavenly treasure

after the juice has been poured,
and you’re bored
what comes next
once you’ve had your fill of her pleasure

you stickin’ around
are you two, like, together
or was she just an indulgence
again
someone to satisfy your low self esteem
and make you feel more like a man?

As a matter of fact
how many sisters have you used
to satisfy a recurring sweet tooth?
And how many sisters
emotionally abused
refuse to acknowledge this truth?

Are we all damaged goods
starving for love in any shape, form, or fashion
dead to ourselves, so we light any fire
even if we get burned in our passion?

©04.07.2017