He’s Got The Case Of The Itch

Oh so sexual

But metro-sexual

He can leap big bounds

Even on hallowed grounds


Change it

Then drop a dime

Haters think

It’s all sublime



He’s got the case of the itch

Looking finer than a bitch



Watch him flip the switch


In case you didn’t hear

He’s not like King Lear

He won’t give it all away

He needs something to sway


If there’s a daughter

In the water

He could have taken a drink

With so much ass

In his class

It’s got to make one think


Cause he can drop it

And pop it

And nobody can stop it

He can keep his hand in his hair

While his feet are in the air



But who can blame him

When they all want to shame him

As pretty as a photo

Don’t see him just as some-hoe



Thinking of my own

The Thinking Man sculpture at Musée Rodin in Paris
The Thinking Man sculpture at Musée Rodin in Paris (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


Today, I realized I was the one


When I woke up


Next to myself and someone


I was good enough


To have them in my home


I couldn’t have been that bad


Time to stop being alone


Thinking what I could’ve had






Thinking too much about my own


Thinking only of me


Too much thinking of me




Today, I realized I was then one


When I woke up


And knew I cared for someone


Spend a little idle time


At the drop of a dime


Until I didn’t want to drop one again


And then that’s still




Thinking too much about my own






I couldn’t find a problem


But I always try to solve them


Can’t just let things happen


Is it a fake or a gem


Why would I worry


Was I in a hurry


I said “Time’s Up”


Before I could even fill my cup




Before I even had my own


I was thinking too much about my own






What Mother’s Child

English: Black Poplar tree, off Hancocks Lane ...
Image via Wikipedia


What mother’s child could I be

 who spares any love outwardly

  for me

Bastard am I

 Though there was love between


For spite I was given another’s name

  so as to not disgrace

   The Almighty Him

Blame not me for any

  odd behavior

Show me my true line

  And I shall walk it

   with flavor

Sorrow is felt for a man

 who tried

  to be

Dangerous is a carrying woman

  who holds many a secret

   and a lost identity


What mother’s child could I be?


Would one find fault

  If I lie

   and discreetly cry

Or should it be me

 to hang myself as a fruit

   from a poplar tree


What mother’s child could I be?


Even though she can’t look me

  in the eye

Just my mere presence

  makes her want to die

Did I have a choice

  to choose my kind

Who then had my voice

when another whipped me

  and distorted my mind

Does she feel my pain

  when I sweetly say her name

Why am I the one

   who is made to feel the blame

What happens to my legacy

  now that I know the truth

Maybe I’ll run for President

  and leave my fate in the hands of a




  the mother of all creation?


What mother’s child could I be?