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Freestyle Frolicking

Updated on March 1, 2016

A Valentine’s Day Composition

For the GREAT LOVE in my life!


When I look at you my Love

I become clear; there is joy in my mind

Your ways inspire confidence, contentment comes in an instant.

Sweet sexy sylph, your presence is sustenance

I’m overwhelmed with gratitude

Because of a single kiss


When I hear you speak my Love

Your intelligence is established evident

Your conversation is Mathematics

Each statement manifests honey glazed logic

You are so true; it is a privilege to cohabit

Your statements are the source of my smiles


Woman you are empathy incarnate

Your ways write volumes about how much you care

You never have to say “I love you”, that much is painfully obvious

But you do so on the slightest opportunity

When it happens, my mind turns to mush

Bliss becomes my breakfast, ecstasy is a midnight snack


Each evening with you is like touching delight

I experience and enjoy elation with the initial caress

I am so thrilled, I feel so blessed, because my life is chock full of happiness

I pray we live forever, since charm at this level should not stop

You make the concept “One Flesh” real

I adore the water you bathe in; I admire the rag you use to wipe your feet


When I interact with our children my Love

Your feelings for me reflect noticeably in their eyes

Because they have so much respect, reverence and regard

To value you over all things, is a task that is nowhere near hard

If I am grateful for anything, it is for the fact that I met you

Due to the fact that you are my mate, my life expectancy is indefinite.

jAbo.

A Phone call to my Ex-girlfriend

“I meant to be dependable, and not to disappoint.” I said softly to your exiting back.

Your response was to close the door behind you.

I thought that the situation was grossly unfair.

The reasons for the arguments, the bickering for me was never clear

So I guzzled hard wine and smoked blunts until I collapsed in a daze on the cold floor.


When I woke the sky was ablaze with the fire of God’s judgment

The heat permeated and enveloped the room

In solitude I toasted bread and scrambled eggs

I put rum in my coffee because you were not there

To exhort health on my liver.


“God blesses the beggar and He blesses the giver!”

I spoke loudly for your absence gave the liberty to do as I wished

I had not anticipated that loneliness would make me more

Nor that love’s loss would loosen my inhibitions to be heartily happy

“Hey! Maybe this is all for the best!”


Last week Saturday I went to the beach,

I met a young, soft, pretty thing who was very impressed with my speech

We exchanged numbers and she said her name was Sophie

We laughed and joked the day away with strawberry daiquiris

And watched the sun set sluggishly, strengthening shadows on the shore


This morning she came over, after calling before

We made love to Bobby V’s crooning, and exchanged war stories about previous lovers.

You know lady, I really like Sophie, and although it’s scandalously new,

I’m really optimistic about my chances for being happy

So I’m really calling to say “Thank You!”


If something is not broken then you don’t have to fix it

But one should employ effort to extricate oneself from deep shit

It’s not even the smell but think of the effect on health

“More life!” I insist, “To hell with death!” So goodbye woman — I miss you no more.

But I do not resent you, seeing that you are the cause of the cure.

COREY S.

Sophia and Jaheil

Sophia Evans is my very good friend. We've been friends all her life. She's happily married and her husband has my greatest respect because my friend is content. Her name just appeared in the poem! Still puzzled...
Sophia Evans is my very good friend. We've been friends all her life. She's happily married and her husband has my greatest respect because my friend is content. Her name just appeared in the poem! Still puzzled...

Coping With Loss (for the ones alone)

By: Cammy


Most times I miss you dreadfully,

Your smell, your touch, and the way you laugh when

I, through anxiety and excitement, finish loving you too quickly.

I miss the fragrance of your shampoo

And the feel of your hair when you lay against my chest

Oh! Our time together was good.


Most times I reminisce on the beauty of your perfect face

That silvery sultry sound you say is your voice

We never went to sleep angry

We were wont to wake refreshed

And your meals were gastronomic delights

Oh! How can I not brood?


Most times, when the silence blankets my entire existence

I reflect on the vivacity of your personality

The unremitting vim and vigor

Of your condition.

The energetic unrelenting vitality that you possess

And when I do, I ache with sorrow.


I don’t want to face tomorrow most times, when I think of you

With your terrifying absence, there is a hungry abyss in my gut

I try not to, but with you gone I sin

I drink too much, smoke constantly, and gamble recklessly

Then the girls down at Myrtle’s consume what’s left of my wallet.

The song of suicide summons softly and sweetly.


Oh my love! Return to my heart and hearth

Give my joy a reason to be reborn

Through you I will wish again to greet the brand new morn

And bless the day without regret.

My love for you has intensified and remains undying

But without you, all I hear is my own voice crying


Most times when I arrive home from work I look around the place

Your face haunts me wherever I go

The house, the theater, the church and the market

Are places I fear because of the memories dredged up there

I suspect what is happening, so I drive slowly

And walk home alone from the club, my head bowed, in the bleak black night

A Poster

Just showing off, pay me no mind and I'll quietly creep off to bed. (Snicker, snicker!)
Just showing off, pay me no mind and I'll quietly creep off to bed. (Snicker, snicker!)

The Onset of Regret


If there could be love within my heart

Then I would be lonely no more, nor would I feel lost,

Like a lamb that has strayed. Hope would make me buoyant,

A sweet spring would shadow each step.

There would be far less pain to blind me

To the goodness that occur consistently.


If there could be love within my heart,

Your life surely would improve. There would be no reason for us to wrangle

And bicker, like cats at meal time.

We would wend our way ingeniously through the centuries,

And forever would live on our lips.


If there could be love within my heart,

My twelve children would learn love too…

They are quarrelsome, angry and hateful because of the lessons taught to them repeatedly.

Their life will be rocky too, for that is what they see

Oh! What have I done? I’ve reproduced misery!


My sisters avoid me, they can’t stand the suffering

Of a brother devoid of the basic value of life.

There is no love within my heart they observe, but they don’t

Know where to begin to darn, to patch, to mend,

Their job would have no end, so they avoid torture

Because their bro books no love, entertains no affection.


If there could be love within my heart,

Then there would be company and friendship, instead there is alone and by myself.

Whenever I go for a drink, the people avoid me,

They say that I’m a nasty customer to serve

Because I have less courtesy than a hungry bear, who has spotted honey.

Oh! I am so lonely!

Corey S.

Invoking Love

(for Terry-Ann)

Dear God I bring myself and my love before you

Make us one. We need guidance

So that we can learn tolerance, we know we should

Practice equality. Give us the will.

We have decided that we want children

Please send us sweet, strong, beautiful, sensible ones

Show us how to teach them Peace and

Lead them into Love.


Our parents are fearful, because they say that we are young

Make us more mature, lend us hearing

To discern truth from falsity. To choose sense

And not nonsense, form us into intellectuals.

Let lovely logic govern our decisions

And open doors to opportunity and wealth.

We want to grow towards the light

Please rain on our roots, please fertilize the ground

In which we have been planted

So that we produce excellent fruit.


Make me sensitive to her needs Lord

And give her the empathy to forgive my mistakes

We pray for longevity Dear God

So that we get gray gracefully together

She says sometimes I am sharp and impatient

Prune that tendency Good Gardener

I would like her to laugh more and enjoy the simpler things

Please inspire her humor. Let us stay together

But not our will, thy will be done…

Amen.

Contributed By: Prof Fit

aka Blakprince aka Aliam I

aka Al Pikne Iamaratidwuk Palmer Grant Castro Manley Jobson

aka Corey Sean-Oliver Jobson

The Cover of the Book

Perfection is the Road was published in 2009 at Amazon. So far it is all I have that is in print.
Perfection is the Road was published in 2009 at Amazon. So far it is all I have that is in print.

A Father’s Defense

(for daughters who make it against the odds)

Maybe we've been too hard on you; maybe that is why you’re so angry now.

But it is because we wanted the very best for you; we tried to inspire your ambition

We needed to banish poverty from our experience,

To totally destroy deadly deprivation’s influence.

So we insisted that you take life seriously before you wished to.


You were born when I was very young. Your Mother and I were not prepared

We were not committed to each other, still clubbing on Saturdays with our crews

When you arrived we had to change, and consider carefully your path.

We argued a lot those days, many nights I woke to her sobs,

And getting money was no walk in the park; I had to engage extra jobs.


We decided that there was no way in Heaven you would make the same mistakes

That our grandchildren would be born in the sanctuary of wedlock

We would have parted a long time ago, without this determination designing our destiny

So understand child we may have been wrong, but your success was our the highest dream

It was so even if to learn you had to scream, even if your backside had to steam.


You know the history of our people, the slavery, the lynchings, and the pain.

There was no way in the hottest hell, history would haunt us again.

You carried the zenith of our expectations, you would be our reparations.

So we worked with your teachers, we even listened to the preachers,

We left no stone unturned, the vision branded on our brains.


And when eventually you began to respond, when finally you settled down,

We were so proud of you, even though we were afraid to say so.

You say we never encouraged you; baby… this statement is very true

But in the ghetto, tricks come in many shapes, and we decided that you would escape.

So we cheered quietly among ourselves, and we left you no clue.


Well today you received your doctorate, a Ph.D in Economics,

Your character and fate, rests firmly with your beautiful, sensitive, successful self,

Of course we will now celebrate. It was twenty-five years in the making,

That is why your mother is singing hymns and baking

It is your coming out ball; you are the débutante this evening.


So look little love, we will not beg your forgiveness, in time you will resolve this,

We think it is enough to say well done, and toast your future happiness.

Please note you did not reproduce prematurely, and although it was tough

You know it was love. So on behalf of her I beg, don’t begrudge us our bliss.

We know a good job when we see it; you are the paramount achievement of both our families.

Contributed by: Aliam I., aka Blakprince,

aka jAbo, aka RE,

aka Corey S.

The Call For the Civilized Man

The suffering of the poor grates against my nerves like the

Scraping of a particularly stubborn pot.

No matter how we try, despite the most desperate, daring exploits,

Painful poverty persists and is recurrent like syphilis.

There is no respite for the dispossessed. To assist is in no one’s interests.

Empathy for the “lower class” is viewed similarly to farting loudly at mass.


Acknowledge me well, the poor exists in HELL!

Please don’t call it life, when to eat means strife,

If in order to access bread, I have to take my neighbor’s head.

I must be in distress, if Heaven has forgotten my family.

And if my tears matters less, than the centipedes’ spelling contest,

Don’t blame me if I become a maniacal murdering monster.


I wish there could be a God, who actually thought that people should be equal

Instead of the ass we have, who maintains the status quo.

I’d really be inclined to worship and praise, the Being that enforced Justice for ALL.

I am so very tired of being thrown to and fro,

By charlatans claiming love for me, while taking my Granny’s offerings to buy fancy cars.

And preaching death and hell, as if that could be worse than where we are.


Plus I know that these proud politicians are pukes, vomit and offal!

Claiming economic constraints while having the wherewithal

To destroy the ogre of oppression, destruction and suppression

Stifling the young because they wish to hold onto power till death grabs hold of them

Tuff Gong suggests that we “Chant down Babylon!” I know chanting won’t do it

We have to use guns, bombs, axes… FIRE!


Please my ancestors, send the “real revolutionary”!

The one who will lead me to true knowledge and prosperity

He will heal the sick and make the dumb ones speak

And end the dreadful reign of the hungry, money grabbing freaks.

DONE! By: Blakprince aka jAbo aka Aliam I aka

Corey S.

Got this off Facebook!

Images like this disturb my sleep. I won't rant about it though, suffice it to say that I went to sleep at 10 p.m. and woke at 2 a.m. to write the following. Comment if you like.
Images like this disturb my sleep. I won't rant about it though, suffice it to say that I went to sleep at 10 p.m. and woke at 2 a.m. to write the following. Comment if you like.

A Slave’s Solution

By: Corey S. aka Blakprince


The sun sears his sweat stained skin, swearing sourly, he swings his machete nonetheless.

Sometimes he lets go of anger, sometimes he sings, for he is a slave…

It is the sixteenth of October 1724, and slavery is still in full swing.

For this slave, life is harsh. His arm keeps slashing cane from sunrise till after dusk

His food is spare, just a little yam and salted fish, to work for nothing he must

So the perfume of stress and labor is his allotted musk.


He sleeps in a ‘dormitory’ with thirty others like him. Exhaustion makes them snore

Eight hours every day. It’s a restless haunted sleep, with troubled dreams

Someone always wakes him with tortured screams. His muscles remain sore

He knows that he should think no more, because if he does he’ll run afoul of the driver’s whip

Memory is the enemy, for most are of Africa where he was a king’s son, otherwise,

He’ll remember being kidnapped, chained and crammed into the hold of a slavers’ ship.


The pale-skinned, limp haired fellow who claims to own him defies his understanding

This person hates the very thing that made him rich. This white man treats with disdain

Even those who prepares his exotic sumptuous fare, and rapes the women to whom he

Entrusts his children’s care. “I owned slaves back home,” the slave thinks. Scratching lice

Out of his head, “But they were people, not property and could even buy their way free,

I have an ancestor who was born a slave, but became a chief in Songhai eventually.”


In this place however, there is no chance of that. He is a slave for life according

To the white man’s law. If a woman has his child it gets the master’s name

And if she bears the master’s child it is a slave just the same. These trying thoughts

Stay with the slave while he works. Chopping, binding, lifting, carrying cane;

He knows that the money and power his labor brings is the master’s God,

Even though he says that he was baptized in Jesus’ name.


But this slave has reached a decision, and hope has been reborn,

He will make his way into the mountains by dark tonight. The Maroons will help him

As they have many millions before, they will raid, burn and kill until slavery exists no more.

Because he has been cursed, starved and beaten, even kicked like a common cur,

There is no problem to do the same; the time has come to be a man again.

He will die free or he will die fighting! Proud and strong, his dignity reclaimed.

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