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

 

(chorus)

He’s got the case of the itch

Looking finer than a bitch

Playtime

Right-on-time

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

 

(chorus)


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

 

(chorus)

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

 

 

 

(chorus)

 

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

 

(chorus)

 

 

 

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

  them

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

    Sleuth

 

Invention…

  the mother of all creation?

 

What mother’s child could I be?