Mixed Signals

If I woulda known for sure, I woulda taken you in my arms, placed and slid my open palms up and down the skin of your back and become angered at the straps of your dress criss crossing against the path my hands were taking.

If I woulda known for sure, I woulda let my suited self be the area you could land your tipsy body within, allowing the plum silk of your second skin slide against the crispness of my collared shirt.

If I woulda known for sure, I woulda felt the backs of your arms with my fingertips and forced myself to hold your hands in mine because I wouldn't want to seem too eager.

If I woulda known for sure, I woulda let you unbuckle my buckle, so that the metal wouldn't get in the way of my second skin, so we could be soft against soft, feeling that heat from our heart beat pulsing in other areas.

If I woulda known for sure, I woulda let you slip my jacket off my stiff shoulders and let my concoction of cologne and sweat hit your nose when I went in to taste the day off the side of your neck.

If I woulda known for sure, I woulda let your bare feet stand on the tops of my polished dress shoes, let the sticky of your sweaty breathing feet suction on the tops and I would hold you tighter for more grip on the crevices of my surface.

If I woulda known for sure, I woulda let you kiss me, letting you taste the henny on my breath, letting me taste the wine on yours as you unbuttoned the white button on the top of my dress shirt… and the rest.

If I would known for sure, I woulda let my hands run down the curve of where your waist meets hips and find rest there to pulley up the rest of your dress, letting your whole body breathe in my moist change in weather.

If I woulda known for sure, I woulda kissed you back while playing with the fabric that covers all of your offering, as I offer my own prayers of thanks to God.

If I woulda known for sure, I woulda buried my face under your chin and placed a kiss to give an invitation to where your pendant lays to communicate back to me your pleasure.

But I undressed myself and let you undress in the bathroom, because I didn't even suspect.
Into our night clothes we went.


If I woulda known, I woulda asked you sit on my ass longer as you were giving me a massage, just to feel your curls skim my clothed but unbound back as you dug into my shoulders.

If I woulda known for sure, I woulda thought more intently of feeling the warmth and softness of your sweetness against the part of my body on which you were sitting…

If I woulda known for sure, I woulda turned around and reacted unabashed to the way you were using your hands to place light and sensual kisses on the back of my neck, around my ears, on my jawline, cheeks, head, neck, around my ears, neck, head, neck… If I woulda known for sure, I woulda kissed you right then and there, drowning you in the passion of lust coated tenderness.

But I let you slide off of me and let you slip into your tipsy tiredness.

If I woulda known for sure, I woulda grabbed your grabbing hand while you were sleep-searching for my dick and taken it as a sign that maybe, just maybe, you wanted me.

But I pulled myself further away from you, so you wouldn't regret that you tried to touch someone's stuff you might've not been used to sleep-walking into.

If I woulda known for sure, I wouldn't have thought that you were going to think I was taking advantage of the fact that you had no where else to sleep.

If I woulda known, I wouldn't have thought that those feather light touches on my head were a product of some syrup coating your insides like clouds over clear headed thinking and NOT a smoke signal of a kind of love.

If I woulda known for sure, I wouldn't have been so set on being a gentleman in my retreating from an intriguing woman in my hotel bed –

If I woulda known for sure, I woulda been a gentle man and scooped you in my arms as I evenly spread my weight over you, touching you only with the lightest touches of my lips.

If I woulda known for sure, I woulda let one thing lead to another until it go no more.

But I stayed on my side, as the red bull didn't help my skin stop buzzing from excitement that possibly, maybe you were attracted to me – again, I didn't know for sure.

All I knew was that this boy was ready to erupt years of pent up passion somewhere in Concord California.


In my bed, gay or not gay,
I would allow you.
To sleep.
To lay your head after a long day of tending to a friend.
To take away any worry that you would have to,
at that time late at night,
scramble to find a place to stay.
'You can totally stay here', is what I know I said to you.
'Rest easy', is what it meant.

In need of a bed,
I haven't been allowed.
To sleep.
To lay my head after a long day of being denied my very existence.
To take away the worry that I would have to,
at any time of night,
scramble to figure out if I was going to be able to stay alive or mentally sane.
'You can totally stay here', is what I wish to hear from anyone.
'Rest easy' is what I'd hear and want to believe.

Can the world be so mixed in sending out signals?

Can they say "pro life" when some of America hunts faggot babies like me?

Can they say "pro life" when some parents hate that they gave birth?

Can they say "pro life" when even after all being the object of hate and discrimination, I can be then only be an object of lust – because being in touch with your freak fetish is the in thing right now.

Can they say "pro life" without a blemish in their heart, when I I'm struggling to see myself as I clean off the layers of disgust, this dust they've blown on me?

Can they say "pro life" when I find myself searching for some sign that says I deserve to live, that I belong, that my life is worth the stress of this body, that I am beautiful, that I am handsome, that I am seen, that I am seen, that I am seen without remorse.

Can they say "pro life" when one of the babies has a hard time understanding that they are loved for who they are, and not what they do, not what they don't say.

Can they say "pro life" when I can't put into words EVER that it's hard enough believing in yourself. Try trying to believe that you're worth breathing. I can't put into any words what it's like not knowing if you exist because you never see your reflection I can't put into any words what wear and tear exists when your intuition is battling constantly with the ways of the world.

So yes, maybe I know too well how to maneuver in the streets. Maybe I know too well how to not make a scene, even when being me so often does. Maybe I know it like the back of my hand, how easy it is to go from standing up, to laying flat out on gravel. But I don't know a lot and in special places, I would rather not assume, than to know too well.

So someone make this easy, so I don't have to battle my intuition.

Someone tell me I'm handsome, someone tell me I'm worthy of being loved, possibly desired by someone who wants more than a fuck or more than to tear at my soul.

Someone tell me, cuz I get so confused sometimes. Someone tell me so I don't have to read no signs, so I don't have to decipher the signals. Someone tell me, Someone tell us…




http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=prDOWbeXRKM

http://myspace.com/mafias_child

Tis a Bucked Up World - Ode to Rickerby Hinds

Buck World Thanks
Partna, I just got back to LA and before I head into a whole nutha head space of work,
I wanted to tell you that I am now
Stuck in the place where Buck World took me
Grabbed me in and pushed me out
All at the same time

Like their hands
Trying to let it all go.
Trying to shake the shit off their skin

Like their fists near their ears
Quick
Movements
told me that they know better to listen to the lies they’ve been told
And thank god for you
For reminding them
Cuz sometimes when you’re young,
As wise as we see from the feet and movements of babes
They still need to know that life is about something.
And that
Their Lives
Are worth more than anyone really can comprehend.

I know I know
I can hear you say it wasn’t you
It was them
And how it was a privilege
For you to be inspired to dream to write to relearn in moments what it is to live
For a reason
Because for them and those they rep
These young dark eyes seen enough than most in a couple life times
To question why anyone would even wanna make them
And, yeah, it’s sick that it’s this
That’s never given as a fact when we question our system of injustice
But you created the avenue away from the heavy blocks of Riverside
You gave em that alternative route through what they already constructed
so they wouldn’t even need to look for signs for detours.

Performance
We all looking for bigger stages to play
We all looking to see who in the world feels us
We do it for the point of connection
We do it to teach and share
We do it to make sense
We do it to feel less lonely

And yeah, maybe you think, it’s only a small step
When considering every other youngsta who tugs us out of our dreams
And says “hey, what about me?”
But it’s the hugest step
Cuz it’s the ripple effect…

And, Rick, the piece was filled with love.
And I’m not tryin to put you on that pedestal
Just trying to let you know that a peer in this real to real art world
Saw you
And wouldn’t have expected any less
Cuz your heart, your touch is all up in there.

So shut up real quick and listen:)
No one trying to deify you
Just wanted to acknowledge that it’s folks like you
Who look after your community
With the pride of a parent
With the care of a true revolutionary
With the care of a true revolutionary
With the care of a true revolutionary

Cuz only the real ones know how to care.

Yet Another Prayer for Peace

I.

Walking along these debris-laden streets, I remember you.
Was a time when we held hands, down these streets
Once clean and comfortable in serene weather
Talking warm with our breath close to each other's lips
When night was cold enough that our words formed cloud pictures against the dark
You were the one who told me that
Language didn't matter, that
All was understood when it came to love,
Ours spoke loud
Like megaphones over thousands of protesters
Demanding a right-er way of life
Another way for us to live.
Hopefully a reason to.

Remember?
Love in it's grace, sweet and sincere
Was rough river waters and you were teaspoons of sugar
We mixed upon wading in each other
Churning creating foam
Dissolving into sweet still water
This love was not to be challenged.

II.

I have seen peace in both
the lush and barren landscapes of
Tibet, Sri Lanka, Iraq, Afghanistan
Sceneries of Serenity
Mirroring a suggestion for life.

In cement cities and brick building burroughs
Ignorance burns a fire that
Trigger happy fingers and drop happy hands
Take as a smoke signal to shoot and bomb.

Suppose'd entitlement permits for God's presence
To be misconstrued, confused, twisted, distorted
Where common folk believe what's been fed to them
And doubt or ignore
The spirits of negotiating
The signals of mediation
Believe that communication
is lost like
Gems thrown overboard in the middle of a
Deep dark sea
consequently forgotten
To where the wearisome believe
there is no such thing as a retrieval of justice.

The fairytale is told
from one fed-up generation to the other they feed.

And
These people are my relatives
Only understanding the concept of land
In a way that doesn't rationalize ill actions
But has.
So then we, our people, desperate
Take it upon ourselves to pray
Before wars and battles
Instead of praying for peace.

III.

Fortunate and not pushed to desperation
I pray for this peace in the form of
Love we once had
Long time ago, laden with cozy comfortability
Than this debris.
A love that rises above rallies and
Thousands of protesters
A love that is another prayer
That starts to exit mouth in warm breath
That creates clouds that make louder pictures
Than the words we may speak
Which talk to our existence as
Beings, children, landscapes of this earth
Which take on pictures-
Relaxed after a day in the fields of
Green where we lay content
With the foliage of earth plus sky
As our sustenance
Where clouds take on pictures of
Whatever our minds see
Whomever our minds want to see again
A type of peace our hearts wish for
May we be lovers in war, may we?
May we be prayers in war, may we?