if its not love, we can’t take it when we go john brooks
in matters of love, carnal & profane, his whimsical heart did equivocate & prophet/sigh; was prone to dazzling leaps of fate. falling for common, golden-hearted ex-tarts, conflicted, prurient missionary types or the uncommon daughter of a lesser god. but his heart in other matters of love, was true, was pervaded by the perfect gift of grace –- charity -- come from spirit, true to spirit; a true heart overflowing with that which must be given away -- a perfect love.
& he did it all with just a hundred pounds of clay… elgin, dixon & roger
consider a bedraggled obatala working off the sum of unpleasant effects following a drunk to end all drunks. can you imagine him shaping the heads & bodies of his first children while trying to clear his head? did he feel lost? or lacking in purpose? imagine his surprise when his first few seemed less than perfect, with flattened heads, almond eyes, small ears & mouths, not at all ugly, but different. & he resolved to make us all less than perfect, that he might love us as much.
" ...you're so kind & careful not to go to her too soon & she takes your voice & leaves you howling at the moon." bob dylan
it took just one time, just one penetration & he was hooked; his mind gave him permission to think about her as much as he wanted; to go to any lengths to make it happen again, to feel good again, to feel the sweet tension in his muscles, in the skin pulled tight around arteries opened wide enough to let blood surge, to squeeze veins shut & trap the blood inside his hugely swollen need to slide piston-like thru the grip of lubricious walls, beyond the point of no return…& explode
i have lost my way. my poor soul, an empty abyss. love is an incomprehensible mystery; my world, dimly sensed, is not much more than a faint, disintegrating shadow. i saw u, my love, transfigured, bathed in the light of attraction. u whom i blithely picked to love thru means unconscious & unknown. i saw yr transcendence & shrank back; could not stand the glory & majesty of u -- had to bring u down to planes of tribal custom where i might understand u… & I lost u.
i don’t have to beg u to hold me cause somebody else will... yr good thing's gonna come to an end!
burdened by recapitulations & the balancing of accounts, it seems so easy to stay & dwell on a harvest of endings. why don’t i just leave? u really don’t want me anymore. rather than walk aimlessly thru my days looking backwards, afraid to let go, unable to disentangle myself from painful recollections, i should follow up on those notes deftly passed to me by yr friends, those looks, touches or lingerie given as invitations, those treacherous tender traps.
i’ve been your slave ever since i’ve been your babe but before i’ll be your dog, i’ll see you buried in your grave! billie’s blues
“…& if i can’t have u, nobody else will!” he had laughed in the wake of those chilling words, whose echoes now rise in the steam ascending, seperating from the blood oozing from his mortal wound. she loved him, of that he had no doubt; had culled him from a teeming psychic sea to embrace, to cleave to, like a devotee who craves self-surrender, a martyr giving completely to a cause, a tragic woman in utter sexual abandon. hell has no better assassin than love’s lethal goad!
the coupling of sun & soil is passion-framed; is joyeous, dynamic & sometimes cruel. the sun stretches forth his yearning arms, to hold the earth -- like i hold u -- to undulantly move, the two of them (the two of us) into tumid living, flaccid dying; into the slick, slipperysweet confection of love & love’s creamy glamor, into the pain that hurts so good, the release from the dramas of light. to lay spent, wide open to the peace of night’s cozy dark & a sky full of grinning stars
what is it that u see in him that u don’t or won’t see in me? i am taller than him, i look better than him & more than by half i am smarter than him. yet he can make yr nostrils flare, yr bubble butt bounce & make u wear yr orgasm face for the world to see u objectified, existing only to sate his desires, reduced to having no thoughts, feelings or needs of yr own. what is it that u see in him & not in me? what jackpot? pregnancy? std’s? infertility?
that love, like god’s breath, cannot be easily divined, or its meaning made plain; cannot be scryed except in the crystallized substance of those infinite interactions ‘tween lovers who timorously, hopefully reach out or indifferently withdraw, who exult/exalt or hurt/debase, who cling possessively to or dispassionately let go -- or who kill, is well-known, oft forgotten, & remembered, too late, in the wee hours of the morning, & under thin, scratchy blankets of despair.
every outward or perceptible grace, every indication, reflective or direct, of an unconscious purposiveness, of consciousness & a dense, personal & collective identity into which i escape & into which i languish; to which i return after sleep, fever or trance & coruscate an ineffable unity that can only make itself clumsily known in the aggregate, molecular fabric of my skin & in these big arms that hold u.
i've heard them say love was a wonderful thing, something you couldn't hide on a shelf sam cooke
it’s something that can’t be hidden on a shelf, under bed or bushel, however one may try to warp masculine-like around it with toughness or indifference as bark or skin. ill-concealed by a not-so-transparent veil of ignorance, behind which nothing is known of self or ability, position, race, ethnicity, sex or gender; where all are rational, free & morally equal, a young boy’s love, a wondrous delight, scatters darkness, deepens shadow; a transient pulse.
i got me two women, that i love about the same; i got me two women, that i love about the same; one girl wants my baby, & the other wants my name.
one girl's tall & pretty, with skin that’s honeybrown; one girl’s tall & pretty, with skin that’s honeybrown; when she wraps me in her softness; makes my love come tumblin' down.
the other is short & shapely, dark as the summer night; said the other is short & shapely, dark as the summer night; when she puts lovin’ on me, i can’t help but treat her right.
i try to treat them equal, but it’s getting kinda tough; loving two may be too much, but one is not enough. so it’s even days for number one, & odd for number two, but if u ask me on a friday, i won’t know which one is due.
loving two women is about to get me down; & sometimes i wonder, if i’m enough to go around.
now both of them are jealous, in their own peculiar way; if they ever get together there’s gonna be hell to pay. sometimes i get so durn confused, it’s a scandal & a shame, when i’m holding one girl in my arms, i call the other’s name.
loving two women is about to get me down; & sometimes i wonder, if i’m enough to go around.
one girl is expecting & she swears the child is mine; & she won’t go see a doctor, she’ll do nothing of the kind. her mother came to visit, just of see if she was in; said she dreamed the girl was heavy, & the baby may be twins
loving two women is about to get me down; sometimes i wonder, if i’m enough to go around.
well the other speaks of marriage before the end of year; & she’s sent word to her village, that the family should prepare. her baba sent a message, just the other day; said his baby was expensive; i should come prepared to pay.
loving two women is about to get me down; sometimes i wonder, if big joe’s enough to go around.
u found yr way to me, coming on a million tiny dancing feet like the fog rolling in from some promnesiac encounter whose exact circumstances are chimerical, nubilous & misty, bringing to my life a certain otherworldly gratifying of a deep melancholy thirst, like looking down on a key west cloud bank, shortly before or after sunset, & seeing/hearing the white, feathery glory of a million droplets of water & ice singing to my parched soul. i gaze down on the fleecy white & dreaded locks which crown yr head, a crown which awakens all pleasure, & know why the afefe wind drinks so deeply of yr sweet waters, lifts them up & carries them to thirsty fields & lands; to the sea. i, too, will drink deep, but i will keep u close; inhale yr fragrant power, taste yr pungent honey & grow stronger than I have been, strong & stout enough for u, spirit of earth who wanders freely, o male odale o san rere!
