by Kiss of Mahoganny

Engulfed in unchained memories of my past.
I see my life flash and then I think.
What is this all about?
What am I hear for? 
Why do I bare this mark of god implanted by the dimples on my face?
And like Jonah I run from this life that has corrupted me 
constructed me in the wombs of bleeding mothers 
and men shot down and babies aborted 
and crack heads feening for a high 
and like them I get high on visions of me 
dancing in gardens of sunflowers and soft wet kisses  
and like them I feen for a touch that is so soft I see God. 
God in a king that wishes to mold me like clay.
Like God made Adam and how Eve was formatted from the rib of him. 
Itís a perfect picture yíall and like that 
I am this woman who through her lips can speak volumes 
and can become stimulated by the flow of words 
plastered together on paper and through paper I seek 
to express the essence of me that is so deep it would blind you 
confuse your clear view of a woman is. 
You see I am that woman who with the stroke of my hand 
can conjure queens and kings of Africa, 
can sing songs of jezebel sitting on her throne of feminism, 
can sex you into a dream that is so secluded 
you see visions of angels wrapped in polka dotted skirts 
and licking honey from a bee hive. 
I am her and yet I can place feelings to page 
and sometimes I canít find the words to say 
so I write and breathe and breathe and write 
and like Pacasso I paint a picture that is so vivid 
you have a mental orgasm and without you knowing it 
I have seduced you with words 
like diamonds in an engagement ring its enchanting. 
Yes I am the morality of women who donít have the heart to speak about 
their wrong doings so we cover them with plastic, plaster, cement 
and we barricade them in the deepest crevices of our hearts 
like a tomb dark and dingy and black. 
Smiling, wearing the drama mask that you see when you go to the theater. 
Crushing from within and dying slowly.
Killing the dreams and visions of warmth and life 
and depth because we are deep 
and in doing so we must protect the one 
whom we cherish the most ourselves. 

Yielding by Kiss of Mahogany

© Copyright 2006. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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