An
excerpt of
Touched By Boys, Loved By Men
A collection of short poems and spoken word
by
Lashanda A. Henry.
About > Men. Family. Father. Love. Self.
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Madness of the Magic of the Music
in Me
Flipping
through CD’s I see these
Images of who I am, was and could be
Eve told me love was blind and I couldn’t
find such ignorance to be my way
Till the day I sat down with Lauryn and
we spoke of mutual miseducation
In silent contemplation she killed me softly
with
Her words and verbs slid down my eyes as
Hill merged into Jill Scott who
Shot the sky and let love rain down on me
Like Indie.Arie I was so ready for love
and brown skin
Spinnin’ in the rhymes of The Roots
and Ursula Rucker I listened to
My first lullaby and let the baby in me
cry
I denied Bjork’s lie, love was not
all around me
In a sea of Alanis Morrisette I forgot to
forget my narcissistic little Boys
Filled with an ex-Lover’s noise of
Fuck the Pain away I lay on the ground
Breathing to the sounds of Roni Size
I fantasized about Alicia Keys and
The man who new a woman’s worth
How on earth did No Doubt know that I was
just a girl and
How on earth did Tracy know to ask who stole
my heart
From the very start these lyrics told a
story I had yet to tell
Under my headphones I fell
Out of my past and into someone else’s
thoughts
My Taste I
Slowly
he eased into the question
Are you bitter he asked?
Quickly disgusted by the one I trusted I
thought, bitter?
Bitter, bitta
Think you think I think I'm a bit betta
Than everyone else now that everyone else
has become my enemy
Villain she who overcomes all odds and forgets
the act of forgetting
Never letting one piece of her pain go
Pity though she be - I be the victim
I be a bitter one at that
Are
you bitter he asked?
Bitter betta feeling a bit under the weather
Black man you better taste me.
Taste your concoction
The one you auctioned off to the highest
bidder when
Pussy juice and love songs weren't enough
The one you beat to make yourself feel
better
When times got rough
The one you left to die at her own hand
Because living without you just wasn't
enough
Without
you
The Devil's brew the black man's stew
Overflowing with black breasts and thighs
Black lips and eyes and bitter hearts
A feast fit for gods above all odds you'll
always have your
Main ingredient
Her bitter heart, her bitter heart, her
bo-boop bo-boop
Bitter
bitta betta
N-gga you betta not ask me 'bout my taste
Who you think made me taste this way
Paging Mr. Black
Who never seems to get back to me
How wack to be one of the many play things
you have played wit
Sit at the pit of my stomach
Filled with eaten up memories
And undigested obsessions
Acidic confessions
Permanent heart burn
Paging
Mr. Black
Please crack the secret of love
Shove that which is infinite onto my finite
answering machine
In between the beep a woman screams
Your
little girls seek fathers in fatherless
little boys
Shattered and destroyed they treat their
toys better than they would a girl child
All eyes grow wild on a paperless paper
chase
A Godless race where faith hits the floor
Behind
the second prize door
Grandmamma sits palms split from washing
our clothes with bitter tears
She stares at door three where her daughters,
our mammas be
Looking struggle straight in the eye with
no way to run to
Door
number one where we be
The daughters of category three
Climbing corporate ladders pushing flattery
and instant gratification
Through our monetary veins as our remains
remain loveless
Paging
Mr. Black
Please get back to me before I turn my
back to me
And we all leave this world alone
Naive little girl
Naive little girl
Buck tooth, nappy head curls living in
a self made world
Naive little girl
Waiting for that strong black man to take
her hand
Lead her to the promise land of love
Where halves become whole no need to control
ones desire
That fire inside that pearl inside that
Naive little girl
Thinking she knew love but too young
To understand that the boy was not a man
He could not lead her to a land that
For him did not exist but still she
Could not resist dreaming
Of him of her of them [...this poem is
an excerpt]
Zipped
Zipped up skin tight
I tried to fight intrusion
Filled with solitary delusions
Of self sufficiency
Until you opened me up
Loved me down
Left alone
Insides falling
His
arms
His arms are like cliché bronze
man.
His arms are like thick, tangible, heat.
His arms have these veins that make his
arms too sexy to resist.
His arms have these veins that make his
arms too sexy to resist.
His arms glisten like smooth black skin
in the hot summer’s sun.
His arms would glisten more after I’ve
thoroughly loved them with my lips.
His arms could pump life back into my
heart with one squeeze of my thighs.
His arms could cradle the child his manhood
could help me to create.
His arms are like thick, tangible, heat.
His arms are like cliché bronze
man.
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