She has soul

She has soul
in her bowl
of overflowing fire -
thoughts bringing light
and light, its own choir.

I am the song
that she sings
and brings forth
like a gift to the world that should be,
her true north.

She has soul
(my black whole)
and I am her black phoenix,
her heavenly helix,
her melody’s lyrics.

I am the song,
the sunrise of her dream
her prince to my queen
who can only be me because
she has soul.

©04.22.18 ebn

Carpe Diem

Throwing myself into the day
I inhaled a wake of peach blossoms
on a breath of summer,
an intoxicating warmth
that convinced the happiest petals to fly
littering the air with their delicate laughter,
which cut into the breasts of startled doves,
spilling a dark red rain across my eyes
and lips, an earthy wine muddying my soul
while sunrays stabbed at their screaming minds,
desperately afraid the sky would not wait for them
and they would never be free again

©04.21.18 ebn

Love song

The piano keys broke every icicle
And we were all shattered
Crying our puddles onto the floor

But the candle would not go out
Though drowning in our sorrow
It defied our despair
Brilliantly mad
Kicking our tears from beneath it

But we raged on
Like waterfalls and crashing waves
Until all that was left of its flame
Was the sun in the sky

©04.15.18 ebn

Whispers

Somewhere out on the water
Where the mist is thin
And the stars dance in in the black quiet ripples
I have lost my thoughts of her

Out there among the fireflies
And sleeping birds
The echoes of my forgetfulness
Smell as sweet as those closed purple flowers
Hiding in the darkness

And the faraway moon
Makes the trees seem even taller
And me even lonelier
Than the last time I came here
To look for her

©04.15.18 ebn

Childish

I found a spot in the shade of the planet
Leaning against the things I didn’t care about anymore
Avoiding the eye of the sun
And waiting for the moon to come back around
With my dreams

©04.15.18 ebn

We

We is a little word
That doesn’t include everybody
At best just a couple of people
Often not more than a few
But it almost certainly never applies
To a gang or mob or group

We ain’t thick like that
We know too much ain’t good for us, so
We keep it simple
But more than that
We keep it real

We ain’t never too big
To see each other
To know each other
To look out for each other, cuz
We are tight

We don’t have time for
He say, she say, or hearsay
We talk
We don’t do proxies
We right here for each other

We don’t guess
We figure it out
We don’t do mess
We straighten it out
We don’t stress
We work it out

©04.15.18 ebn

The Last Poets Album

Was an alarm clock for niggas sleeping too long
Like the beggar on the subway in your face
With his missing leg hustle while you suited up
With his dirty smell offense offending you
Who has running water and scented soap
With his blatant truth contradicting your truth
Making you make excuses for his existence
Because ain’t no way you gonna end up like him
Poor and free, when you can be a rich bitch
Hustling to maintain someone else’s dream
Paid to trade your self esteem for booty cream
Believing you’re To-be instead of I Am. Damn.

©04.14.18 ebn