Sunday, September 12, 2010

for D.B.A.

she makes my bodily fluids flow
my eyes moist or my dick head a mess

tears fall or salivation of one sort
or from one source or another
accumulate or overflow

what of her ability to affect me on such a level
to connect and to activate what is automatic
what is beyond reach

out of reach and she can, with woman power
with yearning for her or with my love for her
or hers for me

start new rivers flowing, running down
the sides of mountains

what others witness and know not the genesis of
behold the results of

what she in secret- in private triggers off
keeps going

in addition to tears and other fluids
she makes flow nonstop from me
and possibly to an even greater degree
all the poems of her I write

as if the pens I picked up were all leaking
or as if an ordinary ball point pen
were a fountain pen

as if a pen were not a pen but a fountain

unusual that she'd call
and I'd be unavailable

twice today she called
and I was not available

could get the impression that-
could give the impression that

familiarity has begun to breed contempt
has caused me to begin
to take her for granted

instead of a couple on honeymoon still
we've begun to be- by degrees
begun to show signs of being
an old married couple

which would not do
with a girl with whom
I intend to be honeymooning
until doomsday, until death do us part

here in the food store shopping
we are not parted
she has my hearts still,
in my heart still

want her to know I shall never
not ever not have time for her

however important
I become or she becomes
whoever screens my calls
would have to know
to put her through

no barriers or partitions between us ever,
my pledge to her, my commitment to us
until time ends

Lord, for more and more resources,
in addition to time, to share with her
to keep us well,
to keep us with

as mine as she is becoming
I am wishing that I had
a new house to put her in
a new body to put in her
to push in her

what of the bag into which
an ancestor or two of mine
were pushed when captured

how many before were pushed in too
and how many after

how many was a bag used for
before it was in rags, in shreds

men and women of Africa
striking and kicking, fighting back
to regain contact, to remain in touch
with freedom

want to be somebody for my baby
someone with means
like I have never had
someone with income, someone secure

why I have never caused
money in abundance to flow my way
I know not

but oh God, with Dee in my life
I certainly do wish it would happen now

wish it would happen entirely legally
entirely legitimately

income, a lot of money
not this embarrassing, soul sapping
pulling teeth that it usually is

for a change of fortune I pray
I beg thee, Holy Father, Holy Lord
in the name of Christ

honey honey
honey cunny
sunny cunny

oh my honey
oh my honey cunny
my sunny cunny honey

cunny dripping, oozing honey

honey comb
for my cunny
for my honey

any money- any price-
any payment
for my honey-
for sweet sweet cunny
in a jar or in a hive

my honey cunny dripping
cunny enough to sweeten tea
outpour over wafffles
of a whole town
having breakfast

but honey's mine
her cunny's mine
to break apart, in two, to break into

break my heart in two
I care little,
not at all

must get my face in
fingers, lips in, fingertips in

get to take a bath, a dip
have a dish of, have to dish up

now and then, a dash of honey
of my honey's cunny
when on the run and without time

to be buried like a bee
die like a bee in what
is deep and sweet and worth
passing away for
passing away in

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written between 2:30 p.m. Saturday,
September 11 and 3:41 p.m. Sunday,
September 12, 2010


Anonymous d.a. said...

another masterpiece! I thank God for you! I thank God of crossing our stones!

this poem seems like an endless waterfall or like waves in the ocean. n.b. part vi has a totally different tone

Monday, September 13, 2010 2:19:00 AM  

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