T.H.O.T in the shade

susanna and the elders large

That girl over there
The one with the overdid hair
And make-up like an untamed horse
Her bubble gum chimes in at every chance
Belting melodies of debauchery
But that’s just the intro to the song
The beginning of the hook

So she does hang
She hangs with relevance
She’s down with what’s new
A broken hanger holding on for dear life
Best-friend’s with ratchet
Loud and obnoxious, twerking her worries away
With no knowledge of pride
She’s filled with the funk of yesterday’s cigarette smoke

She dances to the beat of it
Songs to which
A pleasure paraphernalia is lit
And she’s just that; a bowl and a bong
She’s a means but never an item
And so she hates the music she makes
The one with the knock in the beat
That reeks of potent ghetto.

So that girl got her some weave
And some nice shoes from
Yesterday’s man
In search of self respect
An attempt to catch the innocence
That escaped her in mama’s womb
Youthful exuberance lost in a segregated bathroom
She wandered the pits of men’s loins

Don’t tell mama about her daughter
Let this be a secret
Told among men’s egos
For she’s become nothing
More than a brush to fine mink coats
A rappers delight
A singers nerve pill
Once more she hangs with relevance

Don’t tell your mama and her mama
About that hoe over there
For she’s only spoken about
At the church steps
A blessing to the players game
Mention her only in whistling gestures
Out in the street
For she’s not worthy wind
To blow your grandmother’s finely draped curtains.

– Smyekh David-West.

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Kill me softly, kill me slow.

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Let the water from your hair fall
Down your back and unto your glistening thighs
Let your buttocks shake as earthquakes
Be my Venus
That I may be smitten by your beauty
Kill me softly, kill me slow.

Let the moist between your legs
Be lava from an erupting volcano
Let it burn my pupils brown
Be my Aphrodite
That I may drown in your churning sea
Kill me softly, kill me slow.

Let the timbre in your tongue
Remind me of my first taste of adolescence
Let it be the music to which testosterone dances under my skin
Be my Pomona
That I may pluck of your fruit tree
Kill me softly, kill me slow.

– Smyekh David-West.

Reason

Young man

I’m a man, so I cheat.
I have no control
Because I was made this way
But I will blame it all
On Eve.

I besiege obeisance from the universe
But I have a certain weakness for fruits
Maybe it’s the way they taste
Or that in every season
My taste buds beg a fresh start.

So I pick and choose
I use and misuse
I wound and bruise
Souls and hearts at a time
But I’m unreliably liable.

So was I born to martyrize
The insides from whence I came
Just because the ego humanity gives me
Is thick with fur
And needs to be stroked neat?

I’m a man
So I have reasons and excuses
But nuts and bolts will tell that
I’m just a wanderer that thinks
Every destination is home.

– Smyekh David-West.

Eclipse

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Let the spirits of the constellations fall into place
Let them transpire into diurnal eclipses of aspirations
An eternity of wandering in the empty dark
Lit up by the warm of your light
Let this be the chorus to the ode of our favorite song
Let the wave of your kisses on my back be a skin stitched memory
An eternity of identical rings
Let the waves from mine resonate in yours
Your arms are the circle of light wrapped around an eclipsed moon,
a glowing show of protection.
Your smile personifies the sun; bless the darkness in my heart, 
Let passion overflow from it.
An eclipse is the cosmic meeting of two estranged lovers.
Fate conquering distance and time.
And that’s why my prayers talk about you in my arms.

– Nina Austin & Smyekh David-West.