crazy beautiful : poem seven


crazy beautiful : poem seven
(photo by kwesi abbensetts)

she’s the crazy beautifull
the “i understand why niggas get killed over chicks” type broad
ponytail and sandals
and a flatbush attitude
she’s crazy
the “i must look crazy for staring at her like this” type crazy beautiful
i want to write movies about her
cast no names
cause aint no actress as fine as she is right now
where she going?
let’s share a stop beautiful
read my thoughts and prove your powers

she’ll get off downtown brooklyn and meet up with some nigga that aint been shit since his friends left him for college
they’ll talk about his mixtape over a pepsi and she’ll tell him how much she supports him
franklin ave.
bye

fuck crayola – they lie : poem six


fuck crayola – they lie (to the man on the train and the woman beside him)
(photo by kwesi abbensetts)

there’s a white man sitting across from me
he don’t see me though
he don’t see color
i am color
i am that blue coming out of the shitting end of miles’ trumpet
he knows why coltrane heard voices we never knew about
the reason he played with his back to the audience
coltrane – not the white man

she could play the wife
he look at her
and they exit

that week she hated: poem five


photo by: kwesi abbensetts

that week she hated
poem five

she will never understand the importance of the happenings between her upper thighs
he has no clue how to teach her
after all it’s none of his business
just an interest
a pass time
some girl that smelled of roti and callaloo and grown woman’s dresser scents
some girl he’d love for three weeks at a time
and it all becomes biblical again
when i see the blood
i will pass you over

this time : poem three


photo by: kwesi abbensetts

this time (dedicated to time & maha who’ve split i think)
poem three

save a little for me shorty
save me short
the most romantic thing i’ve ever seen was when he ran across the basketball court after he killed the joint and blew it into her mouth
he promised he wouldn’t leave earth without her
somewhere among the dippers and footprints left behind by the lies the government told they still smile and laugh at shit they can’t control
it was a promise he gave her
not a ‘if it’s possible’ or ‘maybe i can’
he deflated his lungs and breathed 16 seconds into hers
this was short
this was them this time
this time

the blacker: poem two



photo by kwesi abbensetts (photo of @intelligentsias)

the blacker
poem two

who said prayer required prostration
the things she wishes for when her eyes are closed are no different than those she laughs about peddling down flatbush
sitting on a stoop holding onto candy wrappers and atm receipts
please remain quiet as she builds a city of god on the blacker side of her eyelids

building something : poem one



photo by: kwesi abbensetts

building something
poem one

i left pieces of my skin on the old wooden boards
and a little blood on the bricks
don’t ever build a box for me again
don’t stare at me
don’t paint me and frame me
if you must do it
paint me on a passing wind
an ebb
a flow
a freestyle a beat a fourth verse in hip hop
but only if you must