Torn Apart

Destinee Love - Writer/Poet

My insides feel ripped,
Can't seem to filter the pain

I'm slowly, and for certain
Going totally insane

I know what is happening,
I've been here before

I'm stronger and wiser,
But know we mean more

I've been called crazy, and pitiful
For loving a man

Who seems to find pleasure and solace,
With another one's hand

I have no hatred nor regret,
For the time that we shared

If I look back I can remember,
The times that you cared

So much distance between us,
At times not so kind

There was cheating and lying,
I have the visuals stuck in my mind

Forgiveness and trust,
Was given every time

I believed in you, stuck by you
No straying, or breaking the line

I knew this was special,
Right from the start

Falling in love and liking you,
Handing over my heart

Now I'm left with no contact,
And a broken heart

We planned on forever,
Never getting the start

When asked if I still love you,
I don't hesitate to say

I will forget you forever,
Not believing this was fate.

Copyright ©Destinee Love

"A Waltz With Love" #PoetsCorner

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Destinee Love ~ Author/Poet

"A Waltz With Love"


My heart beats for only you my love
feel it reaching for you into the night
to dance a melody of pure delight
the sweetest song of affection from above


Take me into your arms tonight
hold me close and dance real real slow
moving together in the melodious candlelight 
seductive words of delight..not even afraid to show


Meaning more than just the world to me
this is what I’ve been waiting for
a time of healing devotion..your heart to adore
a place where passion exist ..letting it be


Lets hold each other real tight tonight
pressing close and dancing slow
moving together rhythmically in the dim light
belonging with only you love..please never let me go

Destinee Love, Writer of erotic poems & passages. Read my expressions through love, passion, lust, intimacy, and erotica.

“Expressions of Love, Passion, and Intimacy” is my first collection of my spoken words about love, passion, and affection. Once you have experienced it, you can understand the true meaning of it {Ecstasy}.

Visit my blog site http://www.destineelove.com for blog post and excerpts from the book. Also, visit my webpagehttp://www.destineelove.net to get your personalized copy today!!

~Feeling You~ by@destineeslove #erotica#Poets Corner-:#Love

~Destinee Love~

"Without a word spoken

I can read your thoughts

That look of desire

in your eyes

I've seen so many times

before, but this time

something is different

It's as if you have a mission

One mission 

of total submission

Here's an 

Your hands

touching 

turning me around

Your lips softly kissing the 

insides of my neck 

Moaning softly,

closing my eyes

as you hold me, and sway me,

and feel me, Ooh please touch me

Your scent is arousing, I’m feeling you

feeling me, grabbing me, as I grab

onto you. Outlining my body up and

down till you caress my breast 

my nipples,

yes please touch me there 

I want to feel your sensual

touches everywhere

Take a journey of lust

in between these thighs

these thick luscious

thighs

Conquer your way inside

I want to feel you

glide in and out…..feel how wet

your fingers get, all from a sweet

tender kiss from your lips

Hard but gentle stokes 

Slow

circular motions

in and out…

Aah I’m feeling you

my body is aching

trying to grasp this wall before

my eyes, but powerful thrusts of

your fingers driving deeply within

is making me want to scream

But, instead I moan

moan so loud you

you put your hands to my mouth

still trying to figure this moment 

Why your fingers are

turning Me out!

Yes

Grab my thigh, to raise

slightly high

My love I can’t resist

I feel your hardness

in the midst, and it’s

You that don't resist to

take that journey deeper

and deeper, penetrating up to

my g-spot of dilemma

Hot and heavy on my neck

wet fingers gushing 

sliding deeper, slower,  

Back is arching

squirting intensely......"

Passage from "Expressions of Love, Passion, and Intimacy" released by Destinee Love. For more information on her visit her blog at www.destineelove.com or website www.destineelove.net

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Poet's Corner: "Max Out"

Most people are left broken
and useless when pushed
passed their max.

No longer able to perform
the purpose of their existence,
they drift as a ghost outside

the proverbial shell,
a hermit crab with a foreclosed home.
Oh but it was all worth it, for those

few hours of ecstasy, and that
month-long orgasm.
But poverty lasts longer than

the joy provided by these
luxurious items. Sometimes
arms just need to rest

from carrying shopping bags
and playing sale tag --
chasing after the best deals

all in the name of "it" --
and, please, rest the card-swiping wrist
before it gets carpal tunnel syndrome.

If people are this easily broken,
think how much more fragile
are our finances

and economies, being
non-corporal and
without substance.

By A. Jarrell Hayes

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Poet's Corner: "Black Out Black Friday"

I'm seeing too many
Dead black bodies:
Oscar Grant,
Aiyana Jones;
And others beyond
My sight,
But I hear their screams
When I dream at night:

"BLACK OUT BLACK FRIDAY!"

Is what they say to me.
The power of the dollar;
Let's wield it like a sword.
Until the police stop
Seeing black skin as criminal,
Until supervisors and judges
Stop considering black life as minimal,
Until justice is stripped
From the gloved hands
Of bias minds;
Until all the unjustly slain find
Peace --

"BLACK OUT BLACK FRIDAY!"


Poem by A. Jarrell Hayes

In response to and in protest against the injustices and tragedies done upon Oscar Grant, Aiyana Jones, and centuries worth of others -- along with their families and communities -- on Black Friday, November 26, 2010, spend no money. The same system that treats black life with little worth values money; we can fight with our dollars! Whenever you pull our your wallet or purse or card to make a purchase, think about what you're buying, who you're buying it from and what impact they are making -- positive or negative -- on the community and the world. Are they taking your money, and then laughing at you behind your back, or worse? Think about it.

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Poet's Corner: "Natural Hair"

Oh, what a web she weaves
Within her natural curls.
Frazzled spectators
Resist the temptation to
Touch, the urge to caress.

Her wind-loved hair is
Her tiara, an ancestral
Heirloom; handed down
Through centuries, beginning
When beauty was found
Reflected in the waters of
The Euphrates and the Nile.

Touch her, if you dare,
And she just might
Let you run your fingers
Through her cocoa-colored crown.

By A. Jarrell Hayes

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Poet's Corner: "Two Years"

Let the mourning begin anew,
Although for over a year
It had yet to end.

Goodbye to a man I never knew.
I shall shed a tear
As if you were a good friend.

Can you believe it true?
Your blood is only worth two years.
A punishment unable to mend.

Farewell, my brother of hue.
We gather to keep your memory near,
And wait for justice to attend.

By A. Jarrell Hayes

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Poet's Corner: "F*ck It All*

Poem and video by A. Jarrell Hayes

If you're a poet and want to have your work featured on Poet's Corner, send an email to A. Jarrell Hayes at ajhayes@theblackurbantimes.com.

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#RIP DJ HENRY Poet's Corner: When did THEY declare WAR on the BLACK MAN? by ZITI

Who's the thug..let me ask again..who is the THUG?
The night they had shots in the dark
Did they have to kill DJ Henry?!
When did the THEY declare war on the BLACK MAN?

First you assasinate him, releasing his blood on the sidewalk,
then you release his Blood Alcohol  Level, assasinating his character?!
When did the THEY declare war against the BLACK MAN?
I ask again did a black boy have to die that night?
The cries for help went on deaf ears..no one let DJ live.

When did the THEY declare war on the BLACK MAN?
Tasers shot guardian angels trying to help,
THEY put guns to their heads..
THEY threatened his guardian angels..his friends..his teammates..
THEY treated their own..while the blood on the sidewalk
CRIED AND CRIED..MURDER!!!

THEY are to protect and serve who? FROM what?
THEY are now cowering in fear..
DJ Henry lives on in our dreams..
Somewhere he is living out his dreams.

WHY can't we hear DJ Henry catches the Touchdown pass?
WHY can't we hear Professor Henry writes his second book?
WHY can't we hear President Danroy Henry vetoes the bill from Congress?
WHY can't we see Danroy Henry walk down the aisle?

WHY..WHY..WHY...WHY?!?!?!
THEY stole that from his parents..
THEY stole that dream from DJ..
THEY will try to steal again.

I ask again...When did THEY declare WAR against the BLACK MAN?
Who was the thug that night?
They wore BLUE..they carried DEVIL'S badges..
Who was the thug that shot Danroy "DJ" Henry?

In WESTCHESTER COUNTY, NEW YORK, THEY were the thugs.
THEY killed a college student, THEY killed a future, THEY stole a life.
WHY? THAT question runs through my head all the time..
When did THEY declare WAR on the BLACK MAN?



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Poet's Corner: "Shooting Up"

God is in my bloodstream,

And I hope I don't fail this

Drug test. Too much euphoria

Is toxic. Too much spirit

Is deadly to the flesh

And society and all her

Constructs -- massive structures

As ancient and monstrous

As the Colossus of Rhodes.

One day, too, our society

Will sink beneath the sands

In a metallic earthquake.
When that happens, I shall
Shoot up, like heroin addicts
Or a field of furious flowers.

By A. Jarrell Hayes

Submit your poems to Poet's Corner. Email a poem and bio to ajhayes@theblackurbantimes.com for consideration.

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Poet's Corner: "Who's Pimpin Your Thoughts?"

BLACK RACE WHITE RACE YOU WERE TAUGHT 
WHO'S BEEN PIMPIN YOUR THOUGHTS? 
ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL WAS SOLD AND YOU BROUGHT 
WHO'S BEEN PIMPIN YOUR THOUGHTS? 
YOU'RE LIBERAL I'M CONSERVATIVE YOU WERE TAUGHT 
WHO'S PIMPIN YOUR THOUGHTS? 
THE NIGGER WAS SOLD AND YOU BROUGHT 
WHO'S BEEN PIMPIN YOUR THOUGHTS? 
WE'RE ALL GOD'S CHILDREN YOU WERE TAUGHT 
WHO'S BEEN PIMPIN YOUR THOUGHTS? 

WHAT GOD  IS NEVER TAUGHT

HAS THE DEVIL'S GOD BEEN PIMPIN YOUR THOUGHTS?
THE LIE WAS SOLD AND YOU BROUGHT
IS THE LIE PIMPIN YOUR THOUGHTS? 
LIBERTY AND JUSTICE FOR ALL THE SLAVES WERE TAUGHT 
BUT THE SLAVES UNDERSTOOD THE DEVIL WAS TRYING TO  PIMP

 THEIR THOUGHTS 

THE BIBLE IS AN ISRAELITE BOOK

IS THIS TRUTH BEING TAUGHT?
SOULS FOR SALE SO MANY EASILY BROUGHT 
WHO'S PIMPIN YOUR THOUGHTS?

By Skriptures

 Bio: Skriptures is from original from Brock ton, Mass and is proud of his Israelite (Biblical) heritage. He is a script and screenplay writer; his work includes: "The Worst Pimp Ever" (Comedy), "Purple Wig" (family drama), "InTracKuaTion" TV-pilot (Suspense/thriller) and currently is currently writing "OSzDBx" Sci-Fi TV-pilot and OSzDBx reality show (Out side the box). Skriptures is also a songwriter/music producer, teacher, and activist. Find more of Skriptures online at www.pitchq.com (Guest code 12tribesofIsrael), www.newenglandfilm.com (Screenplay available)(Worst Pimp Ever), and www.blackflix.com (scriptwriter network; Comedy & Suspense category)

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Poet's Corner: "Word Play"

A man of his word is dependable and true what he says is what

he will do

 

Expect this man to always come through, cause breaking his word is something

he won't do

A man who plays with words, now that's a sticky situation; maybe he'll come through maybe he'll keep

you waiting

 

Expect nothing from this man as his words are rarely true he may say it, might do it, and

maybe, sometimes, possibly or perhaps come through

A man of his word is an honorable dude he holds his values near and will respect you

A man of his word will take a stand he won't try to cloud your vision with pomp and

circumstance

 

A man who plays with words cares nothing for your feelings he speaks out of turn  and in

convoluted dealings, saying things he himself can't comprehend but it sounds real

good and fits his plan

 

A man of his word is a genuine man defined by terms such as authentic, bona fide and

reliable cause a real man won't lie to you

a man of his word knows the importance of trust never giving you a reason to question

his intentions he gives you nothing artificial so there's no need to be suspicious

 

A man who plays with words is too juvenile to realize that words carry power weight and purpose

He doesn't see the consequences of using terms like "I love you " and "I'm catching feelings"

Just to throw off your focus

a man who plays with words is a boy who has a lot of growing up to do

He's a pretender so don't let the rhetoric faze you

 

A man who plays with words is to green to see that words are not toys

and they should be chosen carefully

 

So to the man child who plays with words you better listen closely

Maturity is what you lack and need

but in the mean time

little boy...

 

Watch what you say to me!

 

By Aneesah C. Blocker 

Aneesah C. Blocker is originally form Philadelphia, PA but lives in Baltimore MD and is the mother of two kids. She started writing poetry and prose at the age of ten, and considers herself very creative and open-minded and will try just about anything once. Currently she is working on perfecting her craft (poetry of course) and pursuing her dream of becoming a published author.

 

Are you a poet or spoken word artist? Contact A. Jarrell Hayes at ajhayes@theblackurbantimes.com to get your work featured on upcoming editions of Poet's Corner. 

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Poet's Corner: "The Huntress"

Her appetite is building waiting until the moment is right

She devises her plan and keeps the blueprint tight

You won't see it coming and she's about to strike

Sizing up her prey; it's too late

You’re already locked in her sights

No need for bait or decoys here

She's already close enough to taste your fear

Stealth like a jet yet easy as the breeze

Like the tigress in the jungle

The queen bee in a swarm

I am a huntress on the prowl

Constantly wanting more

Storm clouds loom and set the eerie scene

Rolling sounds of thunder

Fertile earth at her feet

Lightening illuminates the dark sky

Just then you might get a peek

As her eyes glow with hunger

Your heart skips a beat

The fury of the Huntress

Grows strong and more fierce

She moves with the rhythm of nature

Slithering close to the ground

Then she pounces like a lioness

Her prey is taken down

No man has the audacity

Or balls strong and brash

To purposefully cross

The Huntresses' dangerous path

But if you have the misfortune

Of becoming the next one

Pray that her hunger is strong

And your pain won't last long

Her claws are like talons

As sharp as a samurai's blade

Her eyes pierce like spears

Instantly you become her slave

Her precision is impeccable

Exact like a surgeons scalpel

Watch your back if the Huntress is after you

Revenge is her motive and she makes it quite clear

Giving a much needed lesson

To those she's wasted tears

She's as cold as ice and that's the way she prefers it

Like a vulture circling overhead

Once in her debt she must be fed

Payback's a bitch

And there's no way to deter it

I am a Huntress on the prowl and

My revenge will be perfect

 

By Aneesah C. Blocker 

Aneesah C. Blocker is originally form Philadelphia, PA but lives in Baltimore MD and is the mother of two kids. She started writing poetry and prose at the age of ten, and considers herself very creative and open-minded and will try just about anything once. Currently she is working on perfecting her craft (poetry of course) and pursuing her dream of becoming a published author.

 

Are you a poet or spoken word artist? Contact A. Jarrell Hayes at ajhayes@theblackurbantimes.com to get your work featured on upcoming editions of Poet's Corner. 

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Poet's Corner: "Blues Come Hither"

I’ve got a blues.
a blues that purple can’t fathom
and all of this wanting and not having--

well...it’s gotten in my hips
and I need lips there
pink as angry skin
while you’re conquer and dividing
dividing,
thighs like cells multiplied,
and I want to cry.

oh cause I’ve got this blues,
like a blacked eye on a child,
and damn if that's not something that will murder a smile.

ooo chile…

my soul is aching a juke joints tears.
ducts filled with the salt of them and sweat.
and in my blood is born a woman,
whose love has been aborted
and I contorted you into a condensation dripping drink
on a summer eve in the bayou
and I just wanted to try you.
try you on like a slip,
crawling up my body,
something naughty.
something like you're moving forward when still off inside me.
and how we got high we...
pumped hips and fists and trysts and lips
into each other,
dying…
dying to live
and I can teach you how to live this life.
wear that devil blue dress love tonight
and baby we’ll grind until our hip bones scream mercy
mercy
heaven have mercy
cause I’ve got these blues mama
mama can’t take it away
got a blues like wing tipped shoes and hats tipped
and no one is leaving my soul tips.
while she hikes on up that skirt
for what it’s worth
my dress
had a zipper…

 

By Nikki Da Vinci

Bio: Nikki Da Vinci is a 23 year old black and Guyanese lesbian poet. She started writing at age 7 and recently completed her first collection of poetry. It can be found on http://lipsofdavinci.tumblr.com and http://darling-nikkis-room.com. She grew up in New York and is planning to move to Atlanta. She also paints, as well as dabble in photography and has designed 2 book covers. Her focus right now is getting her book out. 

 

Submit to Poet's Corner! Email 1 - 3 of your best poems to the Black Urban Times book review editor, A. Jarrell Hayes, at ajhayes@theblackurbantimes.com.

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Poet's Corner: "A Fire in Gainesville"

Will you be the one to
Ignite the fire burning,
In the hearts of so many?

Burning books for a lust of media
You should be ashamed to
Call yourself preacher.

Jones knows what I'm talking
About. Don't be jealous.
You'll get a bigger church one day
A larger congregation.

A fire in Gainesville will only
Cause more fire to be aimed
At soldiers fighting for your
Freedom to burn books.

Are you truly ready "Rev. Jones" to start...
A fire in Gainesville

By Ziti
Ziti is the host of Real Talk with Ziti, a show featuring interviews with actors, models, rappers, authors, and other entertainers. Call-in and listen Sunday nights at 11:30. Follow Ziti on Twitter at http://twitter.com/therealziti.

Submit to Poet's Corner! Send 1 - 3 poems with a short bio to A. Jarrell Hayes, the Black Urban Times Book Review Editor at ajhayes@theblackurbantimes.com

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Poet's Corner: "Don't Tread On Me"

Don't tread on me.
Your Timberland boots
are heavy and inflict pain
unbearable upon my neck.

Don't tread on me.
Your bare feet stink.
The smell of garlic mixed
with corn chips drift into
my nostrils, though I lay
upon my stomach.
Tears swell in my eyes,
As the stench chokes my throat.

But, most importantly,

don't tread on me
because you're adding
more pressure upon the
bodies I flatten into
corpses with my own
oppressive weight.

By A. Jarrell Hayes

Get on the Poet's Corner! Email poems to A. Jarrell Hayes at ajhayes@theblackurbantimes.com for consideration.

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Poet's Corner: "Born in Blood"

This nation's Forefathers
Kept the stars for themselves
And gave my ancestors
Seven red stripes.

The six white lines
Are six lines of cocaine
Placed in front of me.
My head is bowed low
And I am forced to snort.

Or are these six lines the
Straps of the straitjacket
That restrict my physical
And mental movements?

The mind games begin.
The blueness is cool
Over my head.

My white fingernails
Contain flecks of redness.
The blue water is tinted red.
I realize the crimson
Liquid trickles from
My neck, bleeding from
The thirteen wounds
Slashed upon my throat.

I reach for the stars,
And they, too, become
Red in my grasp.

By A. Jarrell Hayes
Submit your poem to Poet's Corner! Email 1 - 3 poems, with a short bio, to ajhayes@theblackurbantimes.com. Put "Poet's Corner" in the subject line.

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Poet's Corner: "God Cried for Me"

When I replay the images of my first love in the back of my mind.
One young lady becomes prominent.
I was eight.
She was nine.
I use to pick flowers for her,
All the little boys would,
But she would keep mine.
And I knew that this girl was special.
So I told my mother that I wanted to marry her.
She said," Son, you're still young, take your time."
But why waste it?
Is what I would ask.
Everyday I wanted to reveal my love to her,
Before,
During,
And/Or after class.
But everyday that I tried to speak what I wanted to say.
The words of my heart I could not find.
Her glow, instantly, would make me blind.
She would smile and it would just continue to shine.
My everything.
The apple of my eye.
But today, it was going to be different.
There was a new blue in the sky.
I had thirty-five cents in my pocket.
She could have the quarter.
I would keep the dime.
I would grow to be a man that day,
And tell her the bottom line.
But she didn't show then or the next.
It felt like I was waiting for God to show me a sign.
I went to her house,
Only to find.
Her mother in tears.
The neighbors saying her father was being locked up for committing a murder,
Which was only over-shadowed by a sex-crime.
Mrs. Jacobs were is your daughter?
She gave no replies.
Only pain was felt,
And the world seeing this little boy beginning to cry.
I realize now, she was an angel wanting to spread her wings and fly.
But I wonder if she looks down occasionally and realizes shes the reason to my rhymes.

By Robert "Bforibus" Clark


Bio: Born and raised on the streets of Baltimore City, Robert Clark, a.k.a. Bforibus, grew up as many of Baltimore's youth in a broken home. By the age of 7, he realized fantasy was much more exciting and compelling than real life could every be. So at that age he began to write short stories and small poems for his mother. Verbal Enslavement: The Seduction of Idle Thoughts (published April, 2010) is Robert Clark's first book of hopefully many more. For more from the poet, visit http://www.originalpoetry.com/poet/bforibus and his Myspace page: http://www.myspace.com/localskill/videos

Are you a poet or spoken word artist? Share your talents with the wider urban world on Poet's Corner! Submit 1 - 3 poems, with short bio and 1 - 2 link(s) to A. Jarrell Hayes at ajhayes@theblackurbantimes.com. Put "Poet's Corner" in the subject line.

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Poet's Corner: "#whotoldfmanjootowrite@fmanjoo"

You write memes
No sense made
Your tweets r hollow
A #blacktag #is #a #hashtag
#dummy

#whotoldfmanjootowrite
I didn't say you could
@slate keeps losing #money
You're trading #pageviews
For #integrity

When you're just the #littlecousin of @huffpost
Keep your corny #fmanjoorants
Learn about a culture of people
First
Oh yeah..
#whotoldfmanjootowrite.

By Ziti
Ziti is the host of Real Talk with Ziti, a show featuring interviews with actors, models, rappers, authors, and other entertainers. Call-in and listen Sunday nights at 11:30. Follow Ziti on Twitter at http://twitter.com/therealziti.

Submit to Poet's Corner! Send 1 - 3 poems with a short bio to A. Jarrell Hayes, the Black Urban Times Book Review Editor at ajhayes@theblackurbantimes.com

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Poet's Corner: "BMF -- Blogging Many Facts"

I think I'm MTO, necolebitchie,ybf, sitting pretty
Real blogs getting paper
No time for links
Real stories capers
Written, no paper.

I think I'm allhiphop, nahright,
Concrete loop, realtalkny
Real blogs letting shots off
Not caring bout feelings
Getting stories off.

Pen slow wine too
Tapping keys extra fast
Gotta keep the cached
Story before MTO take it
Fast
Move like wind when it hits
The post HTML ghost
Can't see me sitting high
Keep my page views on
Top all its about
Nowadays in this
Blogging route.

By Ziti
Ziti is the host of Real Talk with Ziti, a show featuring interviews with actors, models, rappers, authors, and other entertainers. Call-in and listen Sunday nights. Follow Ziti on Twitter at http://twitter.com/therealziti.
 
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