Monday, December 12, 2005
Beautiful and Black
Beautiful black race, men women boys girls
Beautiful black people, tenacious astute regal elegant
Beautiful black race, kings queens presidents ambassadors
Beautiful black people, my people your people our people God's people
Beautiful black women, creme latte mocha coffee
Beautiful black women, perms fros braids locks
Beautiful black women, curby voluptuous sknny straight
Beautiful black women, strong independent intelligent loving
Beautiful black men, tall dark handsome beautiful
Beautiful black men, husbands brothers fathers sons
Beautiful black men, leaders supporters lovers warriors
Beautiful black men, encouraging firm noble faithful
Beautiful black girls, tall skinny geeky preppy
Beautiful black girls, happy excited prissy boyish
Beautiful black girls, innocent arrogant friendly goofy
Beautiful black girls, frilly dresses pony tails pig tails heels
Beautiful black boys, stocky shirt fair dark
Beautiful black boys, energetic challenging smart curious
Beautiful black boys, braided back pants sagging loose Tims tall tees
Beautiful black boys, focused talkative reserved growing
Beautiful black race, men women boys girls
Beautiful black people, tenacious astute regal elegant
Beautiful black race, kings queens presidents ambassadors
Beautiful black people, my people your people our people God's people
Posted by Nik ::
1:31 PM ::
links to this post
2 comments
Post a Comment
Links to this post:
Backwards
I keep going back,
back to his arms, to his chest, to his presence.
I keep going back, pretending to be loved, to be wanted, to be his.
I keep letting him into my heart, my mind, my body.
I keep letting him poke me, leave me, hurt me.
I don't understand what it is that keeps me going back.
Yes, there is stimulating conversation;
Yes, there are loads of excitement;
Yes, the sex is incredible, supersexual.
But are these things enough to keep me by his side?
By his side though he doesn't give a damn?
By his side though he is merely using me?
By his side though he calls her his woman?
Of course not, but I keep going back
Back to his presence, his embrace, his bed.
I keep letting him stimulate my mind, arouse my body, and leave me empty.
All just to complain, to cry, to go back.
Post a Comment
Links to this post: