Poets Corner: F*ck the World by @Quiet_Stormm

5 Minutes, 5 Questions With... BuddahDesmond, author of Prevail: Poems on Life, Love and Politics

5 Minutes, 5 Questions With…
BuddahDesmond, author of Prevail: Poems on Life, Love, and Politics
(iUniverse)

Prevail presents a sampling of poetry I’ve written over the course of the last ten or twelve years. Varying in subject matter, voice, and tone, this work touches on the ups and downs, highs and lows, trials and tribulations, and the many facets of life, love, and politics during this time period.

Joey Pinkney: Where did you get the inspiration to write Prevail: Poems on Life, Love, and Politics?

BuddahDesmond: My own life experiences, the experiences of friends and family, and the social, cultural, and historical events during the last ten or twelve years inspired me to write Prevail.

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

Love {Expressed} by Destinee Love

Poet/Writer ~ Destinee Love

Love {Expressed}

Commitment is the bond of two souls, the fusion of two 

lives producing the word known as.....“Love”

Love is the promise to love them for life, 

the promise to always see things through

and keep it lasting even when all else fails.

Love is finding that person who

completes you in every way, 

a person who knows you,

better than you know yourself.

Love is waking up every morning

from a smile they put on your face

and them…..thousands of sparkles

that you put in their eyes.

Love is looking forward to every

second spent together every smile, every laugh,

every tear, every hug, and every kiss.

Love is finding that one person who

deeply inspires you. That one person that

never takes you for granted. That one

person that appreciates you for the little

things, and you appreciating them the same.

Love is finding your best friend. 

The one friend you know that will never

degrade or look down upon you, never judge

you, or neglect 99% of your needs. 

To know the meaning of “true love” in a friend.

Love is completely trusting and remaining

faithful to trust. To be able to trust brings

no doubts, no questions, and no heartache.

Two people who love and trust would do

anything to defend, protect, and honor those 

words till their last breath. 

Love is learning 

and growing together

happily and unhappily, 

but working it out

through….

Love!

'What your husband doesnt know'

Check it night_theauthor's new poem HERE
urban-ny-magazine.posterous.com 

Poets Corner: BEEN H.A.M. By @Night_theAuthor

Yall already said that
Get that crown off that Wack track. Who was HAM? who was real?
Can't understand when rappers
Steal flow...don't know
So I write and light my way
With Halogen lyrics
That bust back like Ninos
These hos only want one thing
Can think don't have
All that paper swag.
Keep ya flow, hot not
Don't think so, told yo Soy caliente
Spanish
Been HAM
Been pork
Never needed
a clearport
To prove my worth
Get my dreams
Got this degree
And it means
More to me than
A Lambo ever could
Young people
I wish
you would
Dream big
Dream beyond
Dream far
Not just
what your
Teachers on.
I've been HAM
Since I was brought
In a slave ship
To this land.
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#poetscorner: #Night_theAuthor Presents : #Groupie Luv by @night_theauthor

GROUPIE LUV
By Night the Author

U sent me that text
"I luv u"
my Groupie luv runs deep
after the show..we catch
the limo to the afterparty

My groupie luv is like
one in a million for you
I got you on that AP watch
I got you on that spree
at Victoria Secrets

As long as that head is right mama
you got my groupie luv.
In the club its lots of groupies
but, you're the only one
tonight to get my groupie luv.

Lots of them call me after the show
you want VIP I got you
Lets go driving down the westside
top down in the Maybach.

Groupie Luv is what I'm gonna give..
as long as you back that thang
up tonight right..
you'll keep getting my Groupie Luv.

SEND YOUR POEMS TO: therealnight@gmail.com to have them posted on theblackurbantimes.com's Poet's Corner. Every Friday!!!!
check out www.nighttheauthor.blogspot.com
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Book Giveaway: "To Woman, From Man"

To Woman, From Man by A. Jarrell Hayes

The Black Urban Times is proud to announce a new book giveaway. A. Jarrell Hayes is giving away 2 copies of his upcoming book of love poems To Woman, From Man. Here's how you can win your free copy:

1) "Like" A. Jarrell Hayes' Facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/jarrellhayes.
2) Post this comment on the page's wall: "I love the Black Urban Times!" (You can just copy and paste it.)

3) Send an email to contact(at)ajhayes(dot)com with the subject title "I love the Black Urban Times!" Be sure to send the email using the email account you use for Facebook.
4) The first 2 people to "like" the Facebook page and send the email win an autographed copy of the book!

Poems from the book have appeared on Poet's Corner, including Moon Stones.

Good luck.

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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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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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