the pimping . . . (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

where i in here is i found
bound down to the sound
of the words that i rhyme
they be of all any kind
i wrapping up in the ghosts
strolling here in my mind
and i talking back to somebody
when nothing nobody said
just like this somebody else
gone have a message for myself
i standing out here
just like i waiting
for me to come showing up
from somewhere

*the pimping
(is the dark it warming
when it conceals)

and i swallowing me up
on further on down
the short narrowing throat
of this damp hairy womb
i grabbing on to the thighs
with my begging brown eyes
fondling me softly
with dried wrinkled hands
to the syncopated mumblings
of orgasmic quicksands
and this here’s how i is
and how i say i wanna be
covering up under things
i been learn to wanna see
numbing here in this body
not knowing what it ‘sposed to be
i scared about this here somebody
who i dont want
to call it me

Copyright © 2003 Asili Ya Nadhiri

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