That Stuff Right There… (Love) A freestyle

Don’t know nothing bout that thing right there;

never wished to figure out what it’s concocted of

But they say it’s poison–that stuff right there;


ah put a jazzy spell on ya,

have you waltzing and day dreaming on pastel clouds,

singing bout moons and magic

and make-believe

But lord when it’s over, man when it’s gone…

You hear what I say?

I said that mess is poison–eats up all the insides,

Heart and spirit too!

That stuff right there is voodoo

You best to realize,

before you go jitter-bugging

and writing bout butterflies,

before you go drawing hearts

with y’all’s names inside

That stuff right there,

that thing right there,

that mess right there…?

Is poison child



Mr. Muse

waiting for a sign–

if only there were a word,

a signal

hollow echoes tip-toe

where thoughts once raced

quiet house,

creepy staircase,

woven webs of silk 

clinging to thought process

muse trapped inside, 


we must free ourselves

from this emptiness,

this poison

find our way,

regain the crown

River (A free write)

it’s raining

and she’s the only one to hear

because, well, folks prefer sunshine,


pearly whites–

smile, baby, smile

all the while, it’s pouring; puddle now a river rushing through

they can’t see it; tell her to get over it,

to skip over…

a river!

so she swims to keep from drowning. smiles to keep from crying

a river