http://nowatease.tumblr.com/

all women are purple flowers there’s nothing true about my wanting to meet with u for...

Wed, 08 May 2013 12:37:00 -0400

all women are purple flowers

there’s
nothing true about
my
wanting to meet with u for
somewhere nice
for lunch, the story goes, though i’ve asked u to, the way ur
mind thinks,
u’ve opened to me.
so what is it?
perhaps it’s the thought of sex, not an explicit need for, but
the
demands this
society makes to me, the pressure of having to sex as long as i’m alive, a life.

of course.

I wrote u a poem u’ll like, this time,
u’d read,
alone, despite me.

i’m glad.

i agree.

- a

a male poet (a northeastern bird) a poet’s pride? there’s nothing nice about a...

Wed, 08 May 2013 12:31:00 -0400

a male poet (a northeastern bird)

a poet’s pride?

there’s nothing nice
about a poet’s pride.
after he’s said his song and she
doesn’t want him to take her home
this time.
of multiple times.
the poet knows there’s meaning to cries so he crows
which he shows off
denounces ‘woman: this final time’
and this until he
writes, her?, another poem.

a poet? is a
thinker
reader,
feeler, of erneast poems.

just, please, this once.

- a

it’s tiring in the beginning there’s always this poem inside of my mind, it feels as if...

Wed, 08 May 2013 12:20:22 -0400

it’s tiring

in the beginning there’s always this poem inside of my mind,
it feels as if
happens each and every time i want to write a poem,
something like then wanting to speak up of
but i don’t know what of
so i, each time, begin to write
something like
these birds outside
or these trees i see, and end up writing
within the poem
she (she; she: to me ..).
for some reason.
perhaps its pertinence
nonetheless an important need, that
comes to haunt a person’s
thoughts whenever a male person’s mind opens, up, for a presently-beating heart

rather then asking.

- a

a clock: ticks after his aids left the man in disgrace, they all came over to meet sometime in the...

Wed, 08 May 2013 12:20:04 -0400

a clock: ticks

after his aids left the man in disgrace,
they all came over to meet sometime in the afternoon
imagine,
well the aids remain,
on a hospital bed
left to dead,
i don’t mean to rhyme this poem,
he
dials the
number to order a pizza for 8,
for him, self.

- a

a northeastern town; after most bees and wasps have been cleared huddled inside of grass pastoral...

Wed, 08 May 2013 12:18:49 -0400

a northeastern town; after most bees and wasps have been cleared

huddled inside of grass pastoral and green-ly nice I see outside a car,
driving,
the one thing I fear as a human me
some sort of animal twice my walking pace
who’s definition of fate is attack first before an animal’s fate
and so I smile and we drive by nice green pastoral grass.

the radio plays me a stupid song I don’t want to hear, which I do listen to.

- a

thomas f dixon jr, an american romantic to hate a person, enough to write a novel of those who...

Fri, 03 May 2013 15:51:58 -0400

thomas f dixon jr, an american romantic

to hate a person,
enough to write a novel of
those who killed for
nothing less then to
contemplate
their selves on
top of
other women and men,
and a man of cloth at that
a minister, purveyor of holy facts
thomas f. dixon jr! Sir!
I beg of me to respect at least some of u for u’ve
existed enough to deserve at least
a
god bless his family, he’s now gone.

god bless us all, thomas f. dixon jr is now gone.

- a

a, nice, small, wild, plant a wild stem less plant for miss nice white belted pants, so that I...

Tue, 30 Apr 2013 23:24:44 -0400

a, nice, small, wild, plant

a wild stem less plant
for miss nice white belted pants,
so that I
can
pretend I’ve
been to france somewhat,
before, I’ve
got no other choice but to
compete in life, so
I’ve
worn the shoes that I feel u’ll like and a baseball hat.
a wild plant, I’ve picked, a yellow one, walking, inside of a hand used to not
doing much about life.
so, is this love? ours.

- a

a finished version of a modern woman she feels the urge to to which I concur to would u? for...

Tue, 30 Apr 2013 23:24:24 -0400

a finished version of a modern woman

she feels the urge to
to which I concur to
would u?
for someone’s meat and some fries from some paper bag or
a
bag of chips as a side of a big, person’s, dinner meal
a culmination
after so much dedication
dedications
which came from an
aesthetic emancipation if u will
(a picture shown) from around this!.
a premonition
now he’s looking too close
as I have.

it’s either she or u it seems.

u’re
the
?
a male or female friend
u’ve
the worst of ur kind, u feel u’ve / u’ve
ruined her life.

or
ice cream

ur the
bottom of a mug
the top of a cup
a pile of mug
black for some white
u’re the
‘same’.

rejoice.

she runs the course.
u can look if u’d like.

look, if u’d like to, now.

now.

- a

a metaphor for / a present past the wife of a serious man, woman to a husband u’ve found for...

Tue, 30 Apr 2013 23:23:59 -0400

a metaphor for / a present past

the
wife of a serious man,
woman to a husband u’ve found for ur self
and u’re wearing red shoes
u wear,
ur hands help u stand, ur hands on ur
counter top
I stand outside right near painted wood of a small round kiosk
I’m scared, afraid somewhat
as cars do drive around me, here
I stand outside and I do look inside
at a picture I’ve often seen
in a horrid dream
of mine
as much as this poem is a dream to me.
inside of a window, I wait outside.
u’re inside of a window, inside of which I look.
both of our doors closed,
open for.

- a

histories we spoke of, or rather, we’d spoken of, what is love and, what means hate how...

Mon, 29 Apr 2013 11:48:38 -0400

histories

we spoke of, or rather, we’d spoken of,
what is love
and, what means hate
how it’s much easier
to procreate
then change our soon-to-be, the word is fate in some high brow places, so we
i
left her there
because?
because
she had not decided on if she’d
change or
eventually
just makes a child.
she makes a child, eventually, as
educated as she is,
her fate same
and i, somewhat, change.
i do see her on a walk
her hair tied up
her waist’s got bigger
her breasts much heavier, and she
still smiles
as loud, as much.
i walk.

- a

a gratified male babe, i’ve got to continue on, i’d hate to not to, on this path, of...

Mon, 29 Apr 2013 11:48:16 -0400

a gratified male

babe, i’ve got to continue on, i’d hate to not to,
on this path,
of this place
(small things sometimes mean something big)
i hate to bug u this early, this morning
i’d hate to do this alone.

- a

histories a love of her life, ‘i kiss and he back’ ‘before: i’d kiss and...

Mon, 29 Apr 2013 11:47:54 -0400

histories

a
love of her life,

‘i
kiss and
he back’

‘before:
i’d
kiss and
she’d act,
as if
we
i’ve not’

‘i’d kiss if he’d
like’

‘she’s
great
when
alone’

‘i’m some one’

they met
on a couch
in her house
there: music on,
good
swoon music,
upstairs, her music’s off,
her own music,
she’d run up this once
up her stairs,
up there,
and had him twice
next to her, as much as
she’d like,
for once,
she closed her, brown, eyes
once he began to
leave
her there,
alone.
all the while sleeping
dreaming
not missing
smiling,
the party, seemingly hearty, full of, friends of hers,

down her stairs.

down her stairs was a
fun one,
some there would provide for this poem.

and he?
walks
home / home.

- a

Stories - a In a blue room with white cream walls, where not one element of the room happens...

Mon, 29 Apr 2013 11:46:39 -0400

Stories

- a

In a blue room with white cream walls, where not one element of the room happens to be baby blue, a man is sitting on a table near a window, to his right. He has yet to utter, not even say a word. He is drinking coffee. In a mug. He looks outside to, or through, the windows, at trees, flowers and a road, with cars, as he sits, and sometimes sips. From his white cup.

The end of our observing, soon before his own end.

mad / folly, engaged since when is a beautiful woman a beautiful face since then a beautiful...

Fri, 26 Apr 2013 12:00:39 -0400

mad / folly, engaged

since when is a
beautiful woman
a beautiful face
since
then
a beautiful woman
of a specific race
since before
american men
as if race exists
does it exist?
don’t I feel the
things she’s lived before
she lives
how she exists,
the choices she’s made, once she’s
around me enough ..
isn’t that it?
I guess,
but
these damn conventions mean the death of one’s self, being enslaved.

- a

u? I’ve deep down, inside of the bowels of me where I’m not afraid of a me where...

Fri, 26 Apr 2013 12:00:10 -0400

I’ve
deep down, inside of the bowels of me
where I’m
not afraid of a me
where I’m content with me,
where I’m happy with me

where there’s a
need for an us
there’s a certain consciousness made for a person’s love for
a certain love
where I’ve been made conscious of me, deep down / I

wrote us a poem
or is it a song?
u’d find nice if u read aloud / it’s that the
problem is it’s not
coming up, enough to speak of,
somewhat.

despite it I’m proud of me.
both
ur me an mine.

my me.

I’m me.

- a

me? eventually, me, I’ve chosen to live inside of these lines, of this place, this square...

Fri, 26 Apr 2013 10:25:47 -0400

me?

eventually,
me,
I’ve
chosen to live inside of these lines, of this
place,
this square box of a small place / inside of lines
to live inside of it
to make me a comfortable enough home on it
to build a house inside of these strict lines
to hold no slaves inside of this small place
this
politically
romantic, purposed, place

a
romantic
enough
small
place,
/ space

as me
I’ve

eventually

chosen to.

it feels nice,
alone or not.

- a

a ?’s response I’ve loved her he was: he, him. i sensed her he’s seen me .. i...

Mon, 22 Apr 2013 12:24:00 -0400

a ?’s response

I’ve
loved her
he was: he,
him.
i sensed her
he’s seen me ..
i was numb to
as i was ..
something.
before.
i met her
at school.
his me.

- a

the black male issue though, i have learned to live aloud, i haven’t learned to live alone,...

Mon, 22 Apr 2013 12:20:19 -0400

the black male issue

though, i have learned to live aloud, i haven’t learned to live alone,
yet,
i’ve learned to loud alone, for me there’s nothing done aloud
there’s nothing wrong with
alone,
one speaks one listens to
one meets the person he’s supposed to
he’s supposed she
is
the other wishes for some man who will
do the best he can to
forget his blues.
i’ve learned to live alone
he’s
something I’ve told no one but u, yet.
now, what does she do?

- a

a question, not a poem black, is the color of? to me, he became a black person the minute he himself...

Mon, 22 Apr 2013 12:19:43 -0400

a question, not a poem

black, is the color of?
to me, he became a black person the minute he himself accepted the fed to fact that he was
black,
it was worse food then,
to be
an
oppressed self inside of a
white mess of a
moral? place
imagines,
regresses,
forced into
being
not non being,
he accepts
fate?
a moral fate,
man accepts
she
also accepts
sings the same
church songs.
before?
imagine if u were,
were ..,
not once,
a norm,
alone with, well black, sane? folks who were
of the
same
skin tone as ur own, would u call his, or her’s, ur non blonde mango-after-lunch, ur dahomeyan hyena bone, a
black one?
a whip in hand he
didn’t
always dance for his
white man or ‘mam
he
made his own songs sometimes
for when he was, home?, home, alone.
even this poem, for some, is a black one.
I’ve hated for so long,
i need to feel hope, enough hope.

- a

a very insignificant corner from a significant growlinn’ male / voice. it’s the felt...

Thu, 18 Apr 2013 13:23:24 -0400

a very insignificant corner

from a
significant
growlinn’
male / voice.
it’s the felt complexity of a lovin soul!
she’s .. jus’,
when ur just, wrapped up in pre-co-lum-bian / nkrum-ahn / white chest sheets an engraved on gold stuff!, and u
have
got urself a big ‘self?’ question u’ve held for so long
for so so, so long! and she’s the
answer u been
waiting to hear, for so so so long!, from .. / so, u jus’
hope.

- a