Please separate the writers from the characters - it's poetry - a form of artistry. No physical connection - simply poetry. lol. And this was written in April (or May... or march? lol)
So... lately I've had this urge to begin writing. If anyone knows me well enough, and reads my blogs, they know well and good that, yeah, DESS LOOOOOOVVVES WRITING. I'm blessed with a curse, I know. Anyhow, I haven't had the itch to write in a while, and now I've become completely restless with my life as to where I'm going with it in my young years with the lack of extracurricular activities. Ever since I've tossed the tassle I've put on the AD-ult cap and I am bored miserably with life. So... after twittering suggestions on what my next creative story should be about Danny shoots out a great idea. Furthermore, he suggests a collabo. How great right? 2 heads are ALWAYS better than one. ;) Anyway, here's a glimpse at a previous "collabo" sort of piece we did randomly back in the spring. A little call and response poetry exchanged with myself and DBoy aka TamaIrieFilms. He actually peer pressured me into responding with name calling. LoL! No hurt feelings, I'm kinda glad. I'm always up for a challenge. ;)
View his myspace page at myspace.com/samoanspikelee and follow him at twitter.com/tamairiefilms. If you haven't noticed by the url, he's an up and coming film maker - check him out.
Me on the other hand, yeah I'm just tryin' to get back into my lyrical game. LoL. Been on the injured list too long. Typically I write really dark poems about silence, solitude, hatred and such (my outlet to keep me from being emo I guess?). LoL, I know, shocking, but it's so true. Occasionally I'll write a love poem, but, that was all when I didn't know what love was, and yearned for it. Now I know what it is... anyhow, I'm not really accustomed to the trashy romance novel poetry as to be read below, but I figured I'd give it a try since DBoy served as the gateway. Words are pretty powerful - entrancing almost.
DBOY: I awoke this morning with a smile on my face. No matter the circumstance i am blessed to have dwelled in her grace. Slightly I retrieve my arm from under her temple that I held tight throught the night. I tramped into the kitchen to fix her a breakfast meal her grandmother couldn't compete with, dressed it up real nice and served it to her with delight. She awoke from her slumber only to gaze into my eyes, I was all she wanted for breakfast; we connected, in between each other's thighs. Did we confuse love with lust? Each thrust shifts us farther from the answer until there is no answer, no question asked, only a smile on her face because she dabbled well in my grace.
Dess: Though there had been no answer from her, she laid back basking in the nostalgic love of her First... had she taken this breakfast "love" a little too far? An event that terminated in the bedroom yet commenced in the car? My my, what a promiscuous girl she had been, caved in by the sweet tasting words of his sin, an adulterer, the scarlet letter he hid up his sleeve. She, a sideline lover? She'd soon become peeved. But, lightly, she could care less, the pleasure was sweet. Engulfed by the sugar of sin dripping from his lips, she smiled and turned to stare into the emptied abyss. Without the slightest notice of her fried eggs and ham, she did not retract her butterfly dragon thoughts of her man, a man faithful, and loyal, deserving of gold - undressed with the scorned letter of a story already told. See, this breakfast casanova was only eye candy in the distance, like the last wonka bar on the shelf she snatched him with the quickness, rustled in the car and soon became restless, moved it to the backseat and soon became helpless - overcome with the disease of lover's amnesia, love WAS confused with lust after she dosed up on the anesthesia. A night nurse, with a thirsty curse of lust, often she'd throw out her relationship built solely on trust. Steady she'd fiend for what she didn't have, not realizing she had greatness without needing to grab. Will her confusion of love and lust carry on? She attempts to unconfuse it every morning at the break(fast) of dawn.
Like I said, i tried. LoL. I miss creative writing.