hey folks... i've been strugglin with this ***** known to most as writer's block... it's really kickin my ***... so as a writing exercise, i had my niece write down a few common objects on a few slips of paper... we put em in a hat, she drew blind, and i wrote about it... this is the result:
"my blues"
i ain’t never known a man
that could hold me
better than my blues...
my blues
hug me like
a second skin
breathin me
a second wind
cradlin broad cinnamon hips and
protectin edible chocolate thighs
from reflectin rovin eyes
talkin’ bout
“look, brotha
look
but don’t touch...”
my blues
fit me just fine
and warm me like
the gloved hand
of the Sahara...
with my hands on my hips i
strut
past the nile
and wink as it waves
to the sway of my back
and i
glide
past Egypt’s sphinx
and smile as it shields it eyes
cause my blues
are just too bright
i step carefully
so my blues don’t fade...
carefully
i
step and
slide
into a room
and let my blues
take control
let my backbone slip
with my hand ‘pon my hips
and dive into the
oohhs and aaahhs
that surround
the air around
my aboundin blues
as they
tighten their grip
on my exterior
and smooth and stroke
my interior
as i run my hand
‘cross my posterior
with you watchin me
lettin your eyes
accent my low-cut
high-rise
tye-dyed blues...
yeah,
look, brotha
look
but don’t touch...
the object in question: my favorite jeans
be easy yall... peace...
"my blues"
i ain’t never known a man
that could hold me
better than my blues...
my blues
hug me like
a second skin
breathin me
a second wind
cradlin broad cinnamon hips and
protectin edible chocolate thighs
from reflectin rovin eyes
talkin’ bout
“look, brotha
look
but don’t touch...”
my blues
fit me just fine
and warm me like
the gloved hand
of the Sahara...
with my hands on my hips i
strut
past the nile
and wink as it waves
to the sway of my back
and i
glide
past Egypt’s sphinx
and smile as it shields it eyes
cause my blues
are just too bright
i step carefully
so my blues don’t fade...
carefully
i
step and
slide
into a room
and let my blues
take control
let my backbone slip
with my hand ‘pon my hips
and dive into the
oohhs and aaahhs
that surround
the air around
my aboundin blues
as they
tighten their grip
on my exterior
and smooth and stroke
my interior
as i run my hand
‘cross my posterior
with you watchin me
lettin your eyes
accent my low-cut
high-rise
tye-dyed blues...
yeah,
look, brotha
look
but don’t touch...
the object in question: my favorite jeans

be easy yall... peace...