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Poet Stories


To: Two Doves

I could drink from your lips

Ink your memory on canvas Daydream of your blush melanin skin I could drink from your lips Night owl at your poinsettia Never to forsaken;   Could one be so besieged by the first Desire a second And still be wholesome?   Could one be proportional devoted...

Hashem Shaabani

I think I was six years old / When I held my father's hand in the suk / And saw my first hanging

"Hashem Shaabani"(Raanana, February 11, 2016) I think I was six years oldWhen I held my father's hand in the sukAnd saw my first hanging,God is great.So was the heat of the sunThe dust and the gnats,Praised be He.I asked my dadWhy that man was dancing in...

A poet destroyer

I'm a poet destroyer

Silver Skimpy Ink, String, A POET DESTROYER's bling, bling Think of me as a human ditty delicious decoration, Something along the line of a sweet tooth temptation Cherry tastes, between the slit of tender toast  Fine jumble jam slams down the tongueless t...

More than a poet

This describe me

Yeah, I'm more then a poet cause I'm an artist and a writer. I'm a lover and a fighter and my son provider. I have a habit of my own of graspin' words with my fist. See, I'm a talented unknown and unheard of lyricist. Look, I'm as real as this art. So no...

The heavy feelings of a transitional state of mind.Channeled into meaningsfor personalities of any kind. Enabler, healer of the soulher fickle emotions, enticingly wayward.Sexually lofty, deviously foulinciting poets, never awkward. Lamenting lord of dark...