Friday, December 27, 2013

Young Love

If I had one request, it would simply be you. If I had to describe my desire in one word, it would simply be "true." It's never that simple though. Feelings are complex, and expression can be complicated. "Simple" would be to let it all flow, but many of us are constipated. Dammed by how damned we think we are. Unaware of getting close to someone, too busy assuming that love is just so far. We get so caught up in trying to free ourselves, mired in irony thick enough to thin out all logic. Begging the universe for help, yet making predictions and stating conditions like prophets. Know-it-alls in a state of ignorance. Blissfully blue. If I had one request, it would simply be you. If I had to describe my desire in one word, it would simply be "true." It's never that simple though. It requires a lot of work. How can one give energy and effort without a concrete sense of self-worth? Wouldn't it be easy to give without receiving reciprocity? Wouldn't it be easy to be in a parasitic relationship, relishing the fact that it's a form of relation, although all time is spent feeding a monstrosity? It never sounds that way to the person living it. We're all trying to find someone to love, but we never consider if a person's preferred way of receiving love is compatible to how we enjoy giving it. Forcing circles into squares. A hammer for a screw. If I had one request, it would simply be you. If I had to describe my desire in one word, it would simply be "true." It's never that simple though. It could be, but that just wouldn't be enough. Apparently, it's not real if it isn't tough. The quality of love is now defined by ups and downs, the ability to endure. What does that really ensure? If we fight constantly, do we ever really make up? Honestly? That's emotional abuse. Hurting each other just because we know how to heal one another...what does that prove? Why would I cause pain to the person I'm supposed to care enough about to soothe? Searching for validation...the kind that should come from within. Love is growth. That's the only thing that makes it "real." Get rid of the stipulations, the judgments, and the expectations too. If I had one request, it would simply be you. If I had to describe my desire in one word, it would simply be "true." It always starts out that simply. I just want to keep it that way and keep you with me. We should cultivate what we have and cherish it intensely. Despite all that crosses my mind, you're all I really think of. The difficulties of young love.

-A. Lewis

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

The Involuntary Incident - 12/4/13

It's never really an option.
No matter how much you try to proceed with caution,
You're bound to slip.
Feel the motion as your emotions take a trip.
We can't choose who we care for.
When we try,
There are feelings we can't deny,
And we end up caring more.
We end up sharing more.
Surface questions give way to deeper oceans,
Icebergs of information causing commotions,
Titanic truths revealed, sinking secrets in the open.
Connections happen without any indication.
This always seems inconvenient,
But it's only because we want to connect as vindication...
A paycheck for putting in work.
Recompense for voluntarily risking being hurt.
Life doesn't function that way, however...
Pure intentions on misguided missions tend to lead to nothing but dirt.
We're much better off trusting the mysterious forces at hand.
No one knows how falling in love happens,
But everyone knows it cannot be planned.
It is as organic as nature itself,
A beautiful process that occurs on its own time,
Encompassing, harmonic,
A force powerful enough to bolster the spirit and mind.
An abundant resource that we all desire to find...
Plentiful in its own way, but scarce when unnecessarily defined.
Love truly is both patient and kind,
Forever embracing us and refusing to leave anyone behind.
Whether or not your idea of it complements mine,
Whether or not it seems to have a reason or rhyme,
If it's meant for us, our hearts will find a way to bind.
You see...
It's never really an option.
No matter how much you try to proceed with caution,
You're bound to slip.
Feel the motion as your emotions take a trip.
We can't choose who we care for.
When we try,
Cupid shoots with an endless clip,
Firing away until defenses take a dip.
Love has a way of creeping in...
A thief in the night,
Stealing away your emotional stability.
I guess that's where the fall comes from,
Realizing that your feelings are changing, rearranging.
Someone has slipped into your daily thoughts.
Someone has become important.
Someone has feelings that matter to you,
Feelings that replay in your mind like a broken recording.
It all happens without permission.
Despite avoiding this like it's perdition,
The combination of affection and attention
Puts you in a position where your feelings rival Heaven,
And just the mention of that person brings ascension.
No matter our efforts to remain impartial,
Our hearts will forever ignore attempts at detention.
Remember...
It's never really an option.
No matter how much you try to proceed with caution,
You're bound to slip.
Feel the motion as your emotions take a trip.
We can't choose who we care for.
When we try,
We run away from something within,
When we could embrace it and fly.

-A. Lewis

Saturday, September 7, 2013

Playing With Words, Vol. 5

The love we could make...
The precious time I would take.
Your body is a work of art that I desperately want to plagiarize.
To trace every inch,
Then recreate it by infusing my passion...
Painting you with emotions and sensations,
Watching you enjoy your body's reactions.
I admire how you're made.
It inspires me to love you deeply,
To the point that what you perceive as flaws seem meaningless,
As though I delved beyond them.
Have an epiphany while I'm in the middle of you,
And maybe you'll see what I see:
You are a being of beauty.
As a man of fine taste,
Appreciating you is my duty.
I'd love for you to lay back and let me act out my adoration...
An intricate creation requires intimate stimulation.
Just think about the love we could make...
And the precious time I would take.

-A. Lewis

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Playing With Words, Vol. 4

Thoughts of what we could be.
Assumptions of what we would be.
The potential of what we should be.
Caught up in the feelings you've brought up.
Falling for you has reacquainted me with the depths of my heart,
A place I hadn't stumbled upon in some time.
You'd think that such a warm area would be a refuge in such a cold world,
But it was quite the opposite;
Visiting meant you weren't tough enough, despite logic.
The idea of "us" was stuck in my head, and I could not dislodge it.
Different memories of you created the snapshot in my head, a composite.
Love, at one point, seemed grand and exotic...
But you lassoed the moon and brought it to me.
It's just too bad that you gave me the rope instead of tying me down with it.
My imagination ran as far as the moon would take me away,
Drifting until the perspective started shifting.
Rose lenses lost their tinges...
The facade lost its hinges.
All that I envisioned came crashing down, just like I did.
Reality prevailed...
Leaving me with the thoughts, assumptions, and potential I had originally lauded.
Oh, the irony of being in your feelings when that special feeling has departed.
It's a long climb out of here...and I don't even know where to start it.

-A.Lewis

Monday, August 26, 2013

Playing With Words, Pt. 3

I really don't know...
What does one write about at this time of morning?
The moon still reigns,
But the rise of the sun steadily approaches.
Dew has strewn itself across the grass,
A blanket that will shimmer in a few hours.
All is calm; all is still.
What does that mean for how I feel?
Are any emotions elicited at this time more honest, more real?
As the sun and moon juxtapose their respective arrival and departure,
My feelings fail to do the same.
What's here is what's here.
It's all so clear,
Yet shrouded in the darkness of the night.
Writing is my brightest gift, so I write.
Illumination for the consternation,
Conflagrations of concentrations of excellence.
Proficient descriptions of my emotions and attachments
Shine a light in the deep chasm of my affection,
Bringing me that much closer to clarity.
Yet, as unsure as I am about whether this is night or morning,
I'm not sure if this is love forming.
...I really don't know.

-A. Lewis

Saturday, August 24, 2013

Playing With Words, Pt. 2 (this may become a common occurrence)

The way your soul articulates itself...
It speaks the same language as mine.
We should have an intimate conversation of the minds.
I'd like to speak with your desires,
Gather some information on what they require.
I'd also like to speak with your yearning;
Maybe I'll convince her to retire.
Might I have dialogue with your dreams to see about how they aspire?
Discuss intimations with your imagination,
Intently listening to what you ideate when you get "higher?"
I'd certainly love to have a talk with your passion,
To see what lights your fire.
In talks with your pain,
I'd inquire about what draws your tears and what draws your ire.
There's so much to learn...
So much to share, it would be easy to tire.
But, I have stated my interest.
And I am no liar.
I'm not 100% sure of what you're selling,
But you have a potential buyer...
Because the way your soul articulates itself,
It speaks to mine.
It's sold my soul on having an intimate conversation of the minds.

-A. Lewis\

Playing With Words...Wrote This In 5 Minutes.

You...you're more than who you've slept with.
Your little black book is not a 5-page indictment of your soul,
Not a textbook to be studied for the defamation of your character.
It is, simply, a little black book.
Most assume that a lack of self-respect is the dark ink that covers the pages,
That there's a war going on inside of you that rages,
That you act out in beds, using them as stages...
But they're all wrong.
Your legs don't open for just anyone.
That is the prevailing presumption,
But the presumptuous pricks that play judge and jury concerning your promiscuity
Probably pant and piddle when the panties drop,
Paling in comparison to your proficiency.
You are who you are.
You do as you please.
Their judgments of you only bring THEM down to their knees.
Slaves to condescension, in need of comprehension.
They fail to understand that a little black book is just a little black book.
It is not an affront to the Bible or any other religious text.
It does not leave one in a hex.
While they are vexed and perplexed,
Go ahead and have your sex.
Because you...you're more than who you've slept with.

-A. Lewis

Sunday, August 18, 2013

Musings at 4AM...A Bug In Your Ear

Vibe with me for a moment...
Let me put a bug in your ear; start an infestation.
Sure, this is some smooth form of persuasion,
But in no way is it a game...
It's more of a mental impregnation,
With hopes of emotional gestation.
Any young brother could tell you that he's "not the same."
I'd rather show you that I'm different.
All I need is an opportunity,
And having only one shot at it is cool with me.
I really just want you to hear me out for a second.
I know I'm not what you're used to...
But if what you're used to isn't working,
It's left you sad, left you confused, and left you hurting,
Then why not try something new?
I could go on and on, rhyming and such,
Yet, I'd rather leave it here and not say too much.
I'll let you fill in the rest.
Know this though:
"What if" is one hell of a pest.

-A. Lewis

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Come Closer

Come closer...
I need a session to make a mess in your essence,
Sin in the blessings,
Learn a few lessons about beauty after your undressing.
Your body is known to make an impression...
But now that I'm up against it and pressing,
Inhibitions lessen, along with physical discretion.
Supple, subtle curves...
Causing a gentle aggression.
Desiring to love every bit of you,
But to do so inch-by-inch, section-by-section.
The erection is just a manifestation of my intended direction.
You're going home tonight...back to Venus,
To that climax so high that it escapes detection.
It's clear that you were the right selection;
Nothing about these moments needs correction.
Perfection eases over us like the beautiful darkness of the night sky.
Making out with all types of digression...
Hands in search of answers to metaphysical questions.
Touching and feeling as our souls ask if there is a ceiling,
Any limit to how we're playing the cards our instincts are dealing,
Any foreseeable end to our sensual procession.
Lost in the progression...
Vertical bodies now horizontal hotly,
Convulsing to keep in pleased confessions,
As I perform various forms of physical introspection.
Deep interjections to deepen the connections.
No repression or suppression of our sexuality tonight,
Culture's obsession with sexual oppression left with the sunlight.
Under the cover of the stars, the grace of the moon,
We claim the night as our possession.
Making love like it's our profession,
Living in the beauty of expression.
Love: no questions, no concessions.
Just come closer...

-A. Lewis

Sunday, July 21, 2013

Her Temple...and the Poetry That Ensued

...and when she undressed,
I saw her temple as it was intended.
Divinely built,
A place of placid power and graceful purpose...
Amazing.
It was poetry in motion...
Time is an endless pad,
And we wrote on our own terms.
Acting out our own words,
Indulging in passionate verbs...
Doing whatever our souls impelled us to do.
True free verse.
Our bodies were writing separately,
But our souls aligned from time-to-time,
Creating powerful rhymes.
So much emotion in every line...
My length flirted with her depth,
Two different ways to reach a climax.
A combustible combination.
Fiery sensations that could burn the imagination,
Similes struggling to convey the sensations.
I had never been so stirred...
My perception was so stimulated that it blurred,
Love was all I saw,
Beauty was all I heard.
For the feeling, I had no words.
Neither did she...
So we spoke with our bodies.
Adjectives colored our eyes with rosy hues...
Adverbs rushed through our veins,
Admonishing us to indulge intensely, move intimately.
Nouns experiencing the formation of sentences,
We became poets in those instances...
But never did I forget that I was visiting her temple.
Worshipping through unspoken words...
Allowed entry by faith,
Tearing down the walls to find a deeper place.
No longer bound by time or space,
I felt my spirit surge forth...
A moment of the truest vulnerability.
I was naked,
The way I was intended.
Her temple undressed me...
I felt its power and purpose...
A blessing bestowed upon my devotion.
All had come full circle...
It was poetry in motion.

-A. Lewis

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Mornings in HoustAtlantaVegas

She's up late...
Quoting Drake.
Wondering when love is coming,
And how long it'll take.
Tired of encountering fake,
But loves going out on dates.
No one could blame her though.
Often called a hoe by people she doesn't even know;
So into cameras that she's always approached by men that put on a show.
All she wants is to love and be loved,
To have someone on her mind,
And be the one that person's affectionately thinking of.
To have support and inspiration on a two-way street.
To receive all she has to give...reciprocity.
Simple desires in a complex world.
All of the deep lyrics,
Melodies and the ambiance...
Vibing in the zone.
It's 4:37 in the morning;
She isn't even wondering where the time has gone.
All the time she's spent dodging "can I take you home?"
All the time she's spent lamenting the implicit "can I bone?"
This is how she gets it all back.
Posting lyrics on twitter as though they're all facts.
Memories of the fast starts and prolonged endings...
Wondering how she's still hopeful for new beginnings....
Losing sleep trying to figure out why people think she's winning.
Counting blessings of her attractiveness,
The very reason people assume she's sinning.
What burns more than the liquor she had?
Tears welling up in her eyes from feeling so bad...
She simply wants to be understood,
To find a man that's truly good.
When she thinks of someone wooing her,
It seems only Drake could.
Late nights out on the town,
Later nights spent hitting the books...
Both become early mornings singing along to the hooks.
The verses become more personal,
Reciting all the things it would hurt to show.
Honest about all the things it hurt to know.
Holding on to the pain, since it would hurt to grow.
She's intelligent and educated.
Ambitious, destined to make it.
Hard worker that provides her own.
Mature at a young age...might as well call her grown.
Able to chill in a t-shirt and sweats,
Yet when in heels, she feels at home.
Beautiful inside and out,
A true queen in the making.
An excellent young woman that any man would be lucky to date,
Yet she's been done wrong.
Finding solace and comfort in song after song.
Losing faith in finding love,
Unsure of how much more she can take...
So night after night,
She falls in love with Drake.

-A. Lewis

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Leaves In Autumn (Falling For You)

The seasons are changing...
Reasons are rearranging.
What was simple is now complex.
My heart has to give things context;
My mind is floundering in irrelevance.
It's all about how I feel.
Logic has dissipated,
As the focus has shifted to the anticipated.
There's so much potential.
The possibilities are endless...
So many ways for us to progress.
Emotions as tender as a newborn's bottom.
Falling for you; leaves in Autumn.

The winds of change blow with a purpose.
The trees shutter at the gales,
Pillars of the past, they now seem frail.
Old notions afraid of new commotions,
Remnants of ailing thoughts in fear of a healing potion.
Love is indeed a drug.
Colors are shifting as the days grow shorter,
Nights extended by us thinking of each other.
Red as we blush,
Yellow as we experience fear.
Orange as we attempt to balance the two.
The display is beautiful...it reminds me of you.
Hearts as tender as a newborn's bottom.
Falling for you; leaves in Autumn.

The leaves turn brown and fall to the ground,
Just as our defenses have been dissembled and powered down.
Heat becomes warmth,
Attraction gives way to affection.
Our bodies begin to engage in convection,
Manifesting the actions of our souls.
Temperatures rise,
Stimulating both between your legs and behind your eyes.
You're no physical prize;
The passion derives from your spiritual side.
Just as the trees bare themselves in the fall,
We lie together in the nude.
Souls with nothing to prove,
Bodies now ready to snooze.
Minds captivated, imagining what it all means.
Whispering nothings in your ear to ensure the sweetest dreams...
Moments as tender as a newborn's bottom.
Falling for you; leaves in Autumn.

-A. Lewis

Sunday, June 23, 2013

Dedicated to the Noes (Reflection)

All I ever asked you for was time...
But I wasn't inquiring about yours,
I was wanting to give you mine.
Shower you with affection like rain in mid-June.
Squeeze myself in until you made room.
I sealed my doom when I presumed you knew my intentions.
Too busy allaying your inhibitions to see the errors of my decisions,
My expectations were meeting your actions in curious collisions.
I couldn't understand what I was doing wrong,
Considering I was making revisions where others made incisions.
Gentle for all the right reasons...
Always missing the right seasons.
I didn't get it though.
Efforts were made to assure you that you weren't getting played,
Residences were taken up where no other stayed,
And just when faith was to be lost,
That's when promises were made.
It all came from a good place,
A point of emphasis from which I never strayed.
Persistent without being insistent,
Consistent without going missing.
Heard it all because you knew I was listening.
You thought you were weak when you cried on the inside,
But I saw your soul glistening.
You have so much potential,
Yet scars are in the way.
Eclipsing the bright side,
And you get caught in the dark every day.
You were looking to be head over heels,
While I was trying to be the one that heals;
We just didn't see eye-to-eye,
Failing to see progress since we were climbing two different hills.
I'm thankful for the experience though.
The greatness that I saw is the greatness I still see,
And your happiness remains important, it's still key.
It was a story I wrote with many different co-authors,
Though the main character is still me.
History repeated simply because I never learned,
But I wouldn't trade any friend I have ever earned.
A recollection of selections,
This is dedicated to the noes.
Appreciation for the misinterpretation and rejections,
This is dedicated to the noes.
Nothing but love over here...
That's just how life goes.

-A. Lewis

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Toys

It's four in the morning.
I should be sleeping.
Yet, I find myself thinking...
Zoning out.
So much of my attention I'm loaning out.
Giving it to you as you dream,
Hoping it makes your slumber that much sweeter.
And if you're not sleeping either,
May my thoughts reach you as fine cotton,
Accumulating in the back of your mind as a pillow to soothe you.
I only wish you a good night's sleep...
To lie with the grace of the moon's gentle glow.
You deserve nothing less, you know.
You have the type of beauty that appears in the sweetest of dreams,
Eyes that glimmer with the shimmer of the sweetest of things...
And both linger in my mind like the aroma of freshly baked cookies.
They remind me that I've been blessed so kindly by the Creator.
No greater gift can be given than love;
You make sure that every day is Christmas.
Of course you receive reciprocity,
But considering how you make me feel,
I don't think I could ever love you as awesomely.
So I send you the energies of my memories.
As I sit here recounting how greatly we relate,
I'm hoping that peace comes over you and stays consistently.
It's very likely that I'll delete this poem...
I have such high standards for what I write.
Too aware of how I feel about you tonight.
...but I hope your head hits the pillow just right.

-A. Lewis

Thursday, June 13, 2013

Textbook Thrown

Most people try to move forward while looking back...
Planning for the future by taking a history class.
The textbook focuses on results, on resolution,
Yet the present is all about evolution.
Is it not time for a revolution?
Let's throw away our textbook.
History says this, history says that.
History speaks of nothing new,
Only old facts that may no longer be true.
What if this is unprecedented?
What if we stumble upon something great?
Would it defy old constructs,
If a new edifice is what we desire to create?
Memories can become monuments,
And scars can become relics...
All built by the hands of time.
How could we ever build something new,
If the textbook fills your hands and mine?
Let's throw it away.
We don't need to look anywhere but up.
Dream amongst the stars,
Since we can do anything with faith, work, and a little luck.
Our only goal is to consistently find gold...
To cultivate what we have within,
To remind each other of what keeps our hearts on hold.
That's the kind of love that resonates in the soul.
We can build toward that level...
Strive for the highest heights.
And if it feels so right,
Then it doesn't matter if history says it's wrong.
That's why we're throwing the textbook away;
To write a story of our own.

-A. Lewis

Sunday, June 2, 2013

Your Gold (Pillow Talk)

Tell me something.
Spill your soul.
Your heart is filled with priceless ore,
And I really just want to feel your gold.
We can discuss the stars,
How they mimic the ambition in your eyes...
Or we can talk about life,
And how you're so glad I'm not like the other guys.
Tell me about the butterflies,
That feeling you get when you see me.
I'll reveal how I still can't believe you're mine.
Topics shift to the metaphysical;
You'll leave me in disbelief of your mind.
Your soul is just so beautiful...
Bare it to me under these sheets.
Words shared between pillows,
Heat shared between bodies.
Love cast among the stars,
Reflecting off the moon.
To fall asleep now would be too soon.
Minds are like galaxies,
And I'm not done being your astronaut.
So many ideas and thoughts,
Planets and stars within you.
Brighter than any Sun,
Innovative woman.
Tell me about the future,
All of the shine that you can envision.
Creating it with you?
I have every intention.
Minds are impressionable at this time,
And you never cease to make an indention.
No counting sheep...my rendition?
Counting the reasons I adore you.
Tell me to go to sleep.
I'll remind you I'm watching poetry at rest.
As you drift off,
I'm tucked in by the thought of lying next to the best.
Constellations of points of conversation
Gleam in my dreams.
I wanted you to spill your soul...
You poured it directly into mine.
Now I rest in gold:
Pure, solid peace of mind.

-A. Lewis

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Unrequited

Promises are made orally,
Assured mentally,
Backed spiritually,
Yet broken physically.
That's pain across three planes...
Must be why it hurts so critically.
You promised to love me,
Or so I thought.
Relationships are about who extends an olive branch,
Not about who's at fault.
That said,
My arms are damn tired.
I've walked on eggshells,
You've walked on water.
Treated you like no other,
But you speak on us like I make you suffer.
Mistakes? I've made several...
And it seems like the largest one was putting you on a pedestal.
Despite being a cold tundra, I considered your heart arable...
Now, planting fruitless seeds of love has become unbearable.
All I ever really wanted was to be occasionally flaunted,
Consistently wanted,
To have a love that made me face the world undaunted.
I gave a kiss for every hug,
Pulled you closer when doubts would tug.
Forgive me for saying "I" so much,
But I'm selfish with this selfless love.
What does it profit it a man to give the world and lose his mind?
An unrequited soul is not strong enough to hold on to peace and support a spine.
It's a shame that your arms are outstretched,
But they aren't reaching for mine...
It's clear you're seeking any giver you can find.
Anyone can place love in your palms.
Some would snatch it right off of their sleeves for you.
You've definitely got appeal.
Making promises orally,
Ambitious mentally,
Intriguing spiritually,
And attractive physically.
A flame across all three planes...
Must be why I was drawn in instantly.
You promised to love me,
Or so I thought.
Relationships are about who extends an olive branch,
Not about who's at fault.
That said,
My arms are damn tired.
And as they burn with the fire of exhaustion,
I simply hope the next person approaches you with caution.
I'll drop my branches at your feet...
Extending nothing more than a peaceful goodbye.
You'll leave them on the ground to die,
Not realizing they'll only multiply.
One day, you'll trip over them...
And fall face first into humility.
Ironically, you'll reach for them to find peace,
And be met with post-dated futility.
No one will respond orally,
You'll be broken mentally,
Deprived spiritually,
And yearning physically.
That's chastening across all three planes,
Must be the growth you turned down consistently.
You promised to love me,
Or so I thought.
You were really just using love as an olive branch...
To make peace with your own faults.
That said,
My arms are damn tired.
Your burdens are mine no more.
Rather than stay and waste away,
I'll simply leave, while I'm sore.

-A. Lewis



Thursday, May 16, 2013

Echoes of the Dark

A shadow, dancing on the wall.
Even though I'm not waiting for your call,
I'm waiting for you to ring...
Ring through my mind.
Echo.
Reverberate so I may regurgitate,
Relive the moments and memories.
Expend myself recapturing the energies.
Some ironic form of synergy...
The truncated pieces of the conclusion meld to continue endlessly.
Highlights of low, dark places.
I've tried to focus on the good times...
But that's like reading a poem with an explosive end,
And attempting to focus on the good lines.
Our plot was twisted.
Not by fate, but by the hands of the innate.
Safeguards and insecurities,
Very defensive and extra critical,
Assassins in the metaphysical.
As they left us reeling,
We also bumped into the glass ceiling,
Better known as expectations.
Ours were great, and caused more dickens than Charles.
They were not unrealistic though...
Just too much for two people that wanted to be enough.
We lost the simplicity.
Intricacy and intimacy are great,
And they can help two people relate,
But not all matters of the heart need to be ornate.
As I piece together tatters of the patterns,
I hear you calling my name.
Excitement hustles over me,
Before shedding to reveal shame.
I said I wasn't waiting for your call...
Yet I was hoping to answer you when I saw a shadow,
Heard your shadow, dancing on the wall.

-A. Lewis

Monday, April 29, 2013

This Time Of Night...

My imagination runs wild at this time of night...
Is it chasing after you?
Why is it that you start sprinting when it's after 2?
Every corner of my mind closes in,
Seeking to trap you, slow things down.
All I'm ever left with is a fast-paced headache.
Throbbing from all of the poking and prodding,
All of the questions that you won't answer,
All of the desires I project on a ghost.
I continue to do the most,
While assuming you care the least.
Somewhere you're resting peacefully,
As I tweet about not being able to sleep.
Late nights that become early mornings...
Meant for passionate lovers or unrequited others.
Doubts rise with the moon,
A high tide of wide eyes staring at facts that haven't changed.
The only difference is that staring for so long has left things rearranged.
What I thought was affection was mere decorum,
What I thought was interest was simple friendliness.
The irony of falling crazy trying to make sense.
It's 3:55...too late to be so live,
Too early to have my mind in overdrive,
Too much of everything to be thinking of anything but sleep,
Yet my shallow confidence resonates in the deep...
My imagination runs wild at this time of night,
Chasing after peace of mind.
I want to be a factor in yours,
But I can't seem to keep more than a piece of mine.
...especially around this time.

-A. Lewis



Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Message In A Bottle (The Drunk Text)

If I drunk texted you,
Would you suddenly want me next to you?
Even if I didn't want the best for you?
Even if I only wanted sex with you?
There's a reason I hit you up...
You think it's because I've been missing you all along,
But it's really because you're what's safest when I'm all alone.
I remember all of the nights we had together,
So I figure we can be confused and sad together,
Right after we relive what we used to do after we got mad, together.
You assume I must've changed...
That my feelings have now been rearranged,
That I'm ready to admit I was wrong and I want to try it again...
But I'm really just trying to get inside it again.
You were a safe haven for my troubles;
I want you to provide it again.
You always gave love unconditionally,
And that's what I need.
Insecurity is a fire that burns within me,
So when I drink, I also feed.
My speech is slurred,
I'm misspelling my words,
I'm really in no shape to persuade you...
But the memories pervade you...
You lose perspective in the collective feelings,
Forget what time it is, and your defenses end up reeling.
Your soundness of mind is what I'm stealing,
Trying to replace the soundness of mine since it got lost in my dealings...
Wearing a condom won't prevent the seeds I'll leave in you.
The anguish, confusion, and vulnerability will seethe in you,
While in my hangover, I'll ponder less on what I see in you,
And more on how relieving it was to put that "D" in you.
You'll reread the texts, regret the sex,
And hate that you got caught up in thinking ahead to what would be next.
I was living in the moment...
You were blinded by what you thought it all meant.
I wasn't at all being thoughtful...
I simply sent you the message I found in a bottle.

-A. Lewis

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Girls Love Rihanna **inspired by Drake's "Girls Love Beyonce"**

See..
Girls love Rihanna.
Girls love that she's a badass.
You?
You're no different, with your bad ass.
You swear you're a part of the "navy,"
Although your actions say "I'm drowning, come save me."
Lately, I can't believe I once thought you would play me.
Your looks slay me, have me near thirst daily,
And your mind captivates me.
So intellectual...such a sapiosexual.
Most guys get lost in you,
Breaking their hearts just to give you a piece...
Not knowing that you keep options, two apiece.
You also shed tears, two at least,
When you're drinking, feeding life to a beast.
You go out at night, leaving safety to find peace...
Your spirit got lost in the lights.
Laying in a cold bed with wet dreams,
Reading dry texts on warm nights.
Continually getting left while looking for Mr. Right...
Always left in the dark, despite being so bright...
Yet you're still the only girl in my sight.
Something about you is just different.
Despite deafening silence within you,
You know just how to listen.
However, we both know that something's missing.
I don't know what it is, but...

I'm not really sure how to feel about it,
Something in the way you move.
Makes me feel like I can't live without you,
Takes me all the way.
I want you to stay...

I want you to stay,
Love me in your special way.
What's missing is the part that I kept on giving,
A heart filled with empty commitments.
You've been hurt and you built walls with the pain,
But I chose to deal with the hurt by filling a moat with the rain.
I don't want you drowning trying to get to me...
Why is it that neither of us can get past history?
What's the point of finding love in a hopeless place,
If we're just going to fall in it at a hopeless pace?
Fail to find trust, only a hopeless trace?
Fail to build a foundation, only a hopeless brace?
Questions, doubts that need not be faced.
We may have baggage,
But I think it's time our luggage gets replaced.
Put your pain in wisdom,
I'll put mine in progress.
We'll support each other through the process.
You're used to dating men that you took on as projects...
I wonder if you'll leave when you realize I'm not that...
Got me gone in my feelings, and I'm not back.
I still don't know what it is, but...


I'm not really sure how to feel about it,
Something in the way you move.
Makes me feel like I can't live without you,
Takes me all the way.
I want you to stay...

I want you to stay.

-A. Lewis


Monday, April 1, 2013

A Bit of Gratitude...

Before I rest my head...
Let me thank you for what's been going on in it.
It's like your essence came along and sang a song in it,
And I've been writing poetry to figure out the lyrics.
It was a song of intrigue; my soul was stirred to hear it.
Most would be wary of such intrusion, and fear it...
I consider you a welcome stranger though, one of the dearest.
Your soul found my imagination's "on" switch,
And dared to do more than just go near it.
Fingerprints left all over the handle...I didn't clear it.
I'm sure if you had known you were there,
You'd have taken the evidence of your relevance and smeared it...
But you were unaware.
I was writing, and it was you to whom I geared it.
Yet, you had no idea that it took that direction because you steered it.
You must not know about your alluring spirit...
But, you must know that I thank you for inspiring mine.
It must be nice to know that you're capable of inspiring minds.

-A. Lewis

Thursday, March 28, 2013

Dreams Money Can Buy - 3/28/13 (started this way back in Summer '12...just never finished it)

It seems we all have dreams that money can buy...
But no matter how honest the dreams, money can lie.
Dreams require attention, and money can vie;
Nothing material brings happiness, but money can try.
The joy is in the purchase, not in the possession.
Victims of avarice have to go broke to learn this lesson.
Happiness is priceless, and so is a vision.
Even if the dream is as shallow as a stream, fulfillment takes precision.
Dedication and practice make the mind accurate.
Pinpointing a goal is the only way to go after it.
However, money can turn a dream into an oasis.
Greed fuels illusions of grandeur,
Which can blind you of what your true destination is.
And that's how we end up with dreams that money can buy....
Avarice blurs all of the lines, but money can eye.
We try to come to our senses, but money can spy,
And It'll turn our focus green with envy; money can dye.
Dreams should be private, but money can pry.
Dreams require diligence, and money can ply.
Nothing material brings happiness, and money can try,
But when it comes time for a dream to be grounded by faith,
Money WILL fly.

-A. Lewis

Saturday, March 23, 2013

Chalk Outline - 3/23/13

If you had to draw me, you'd use the darkest charcoal you could find.
Deep down, you would rather draw me with a chalk outline.
And that would be rather fitting,
Since the White version of me is all you see while I'm living.
I'm a thug on sight.
My pants are supposed to sit so low that my boxers are in plain sight,
And the rest my preferred attire is a tall t-shirt that's white, right?
I'm a violent killer that sells silent killers to my people?
A monkey that cannot reason beyond the option to be lethal?
A dark mark on any business that employs me?
Constantly tardy,
And since I can't relate to them, my coworkers hardly enjoy me?
I'm just a lazy bum since the government pays me a sum?
A deadbeat father that won't even visit his son?
An ignorant, belligerent, degenerate?
All of that, and more, is the chalk outline I've been living with.
I was never found dead in the street,
But a crime scene is what I've been dealing with.
I'm not allowed to leave the murder of my reputation behind.
Four walls of yellow tape have created a myopic paradigm.
I was outlined in chalk at birth,
Told what type of Black man I could be.
The crime scene tape read 'violence, sex, drugs, and entertainment,'
As that was all I was ever meant to see.
That was all that was ever meant for me.
I was to be swallowed by darkness,
Chasing a light I could never reach.
Stereotypes were shackles placed around my mind,
While hope was an idea that was difficult to teach.
My life was to be simply black and white,
As if this world isn't filled with colors...
But I soon learned that most aren't concerned with the success of brothers.
Not when they ostracize and profit off of the 'reality' of our mothers,
While targeting and incarcerating our fathers.
Not when we're either good helpers or great bothers.
A stereotype of any kind can permeate any mind,
Turning a first impression into the worst impression one can find.
Even if untrue, stereotypes canvass the mind for prejudice, then bind.
Ironically, they're like black holes looking for a place to shine,
Where they can house dark thoughts that keep you from seeing a light like mine.
And that's appropriate,
Since if you had to draw me, you'd use the darkest charcoal you could find.
Deep down, you would rather draw me with a chalk outline.
Such is my plight.
It could mean only one of two things:
I'm dead or defined by White.

-A. Lewis

Friday, March 15, 2013

Just Imagine... (Musings at 3 AM)

Just imagine...
Under a blanket of stars,
A thin sheet of light in the darkness of the night.
Snuggle, cuddle, tuggle with me.
We've had love on repeat, 
But let's play lust on our heartstrings...
Have the sounds take our minds away,
Leaving souls and bodies to mingle.
Maybe we'll dream of a vacation,
A spellbinding trip to many moons.
Inspired souls will use bodies as vehicles,
Driving to get each other to the destination.
And as we lay it down,
I promise I'll take you to a place where you can't make a sound...
You just enjoy it all and await coming back down.
A new space in your mind featuring moons abound....
Places you could only imagine.
Eyes closed to see it all happen.
Just imagine...

-A. Lewis


Tuesday, March 12, 2013

The Aquarium (I Banged on the Glass) - 3/12/13

It was a rule I had broken:
I banged on the glass...

All I saw was a beautiful fish.
Golden scales, diamond eyes.
I had never seen such before...
My admiration, I could not ignore.
I would watch it daily.
Sometimes, it would dive deep...
So deep that it forced my mind to do the same.
Other times,
It would retreat away...
Which made me wonder if it was scared,
Or if it actually had something to say.
There were moments when it swam close to me,
Glistening, shining as brightly as its mind,
Giving me a chance to see that it was one-of-a-kind.
But if I ever attempted to hook it with a line,
It would hang on for a second,
Then dart away, leaving glimmers behind.
I would visit daily,
Often more confused than before.
Did this fish wish to captured, admired, or ignored?
Why would it approach, only to leave?
It seemed fond of me, but proved otherwise when I began to believe.
Despite it all, I still cast my line and interacted.
This was a fish like no other,
And that was all that really mattered.
It was as though I could never get too close,
And that the fish wasn't sure of its surroundings...
It always swam in the same patterns,
Or it dove so deep that it would risk drowning.
What I discovered next was astounding...
This poor soul was swimming in its own tears.
I couldn't get close because it was in a self-imposed aquarium,
Walls made of its own doubts and fears.
It swam close just to feel appreciated...
Tugged on the line see what would happen.
Swam to the surface just to embrace the idea of hope,
Dove to the bottom to remind itself of its trappings.
The darkness of the bottom was designed to block the shine...
But I saw light, potential, greatness...
Blinding beauty that etched its own spot in my mind.
There's no way to kindly cast a line...
Not when a soul has been caught and hurt numerous times.
Islands of scars were both reminders and barriers,
A way for me to see what she brought back from the sea,
And a way to keep away young men like me...
I had to reach out though,
Had to let it be known that I admired her majesty
Offer my thoughts, my affection, without her asking me.
So I pressed my chest against the glass,
Letting my heartbeat reverberate through the tank.
The echoes were so loud that they rose and sank...
I'd never seen a soul so in shock that its expression went blank.
A fish that deep intends on never being touched...
But I offered something that touches so deeply, so much.
The soul darted away into darkness,
Alarmed by the present, afraid of the future,
Seeking solace in the past.
I was left there, wondering how long the distance could last,
Would the fish come back in time...
Would the soul realize that it had heard from mine.
I then realized I had neglected to read a posted sign.
It explained so much with the one thing that it asked...
It was a rule I had broken:
I banged on the glass.
Or at least my heart did.

-A. Lewis



Saturday, March 9, 2013

5AM in Atlanta.

How I would love...
Love to trace your outline in the moonlight,
Let our shadows intertwine.
The stars are like paparazzi,
Millions of cameras flashing to capture these moments...
Moments defined by captivation of the mind.
Your imagination flooding with ideas and desires,
Your body's delta wouldn't be far behind.
Our lips become magnetic,
Coming together to share energy, kinetic.
So many sparks are flying,
The stars should really be jealous.
I'll pay them homage though,
I'll make constellations out of your hot spots.
Combinations of constellations cause conflagrations...
Explosions of senses and emotions,
Restraint results in convulsions,
Internal commotions beckoning for expulsion.
The astrology of your anatomy is fascinating,
But I'm an astronaut at heart...
And in admiring the heavens above,
I see them in you.
Beauty unparalleled,
Depth unimaginable.
Exploration is in order...
And I intend to fly through from every direction,
Landing everywhere until you encounter new worlds...
Places that have never been reached before.
Planets of bountiful pleasure,
Where sensation is found in ample amounts.
Moons glowing with the radiance of a body burning with passion.
There's so much waiting to be discovered...
Pining for a pioneer, a person like no other.
How I would love...
To be your lover.

-A. Lewis

Friday, March 8, 2013

A Rose Grew From Ice - 3/8/13

When your warm heart ignited mine,
A rose grew from ice.
My passion unearthed.
The beauty birthed.
Light created by the flame,
The flame lit by accident,
The accident planned by divine hands.
How it happened still leaves me quizzical,
But the unexpected yielded the unequivocal.
Passion never dies,
But dormant it can lie.
Covered by bruises,
And the scars gained when one loses,
It will slowly become inactive...we are often clueless.
A dim light still shines,
So we think all is fine, in our minds.
In our hearts though,
We know the truth.
It really doesn't take a sleuth.
We are aware of when our fires are weak,
And it's typically when we assume our outlooks are bleak,
Especially when it's love and affection that we seek.
Mine had decided that since it felt unrequited,
It would pipe down, slowly die down, and be quiet.
I was once gung-ho,
Always down to try it...
But as maybes became 'we haven't spoken lately,'
Doubt took hold, and there was no way to pry it.
Doubt is threaded with spiritual fears
And full of spiritual tears...
A wet rag that will smother one's flame.
It eventually has to be wrung out,
Contributing to one's shame by forcing someone to take part in their own blame.
But before that could happen,
I met someone pivotal.
The unexpected yielded the unequivocal;
How it happened still leaves me quizzical.
The accident planned by divine hands,
The flame lit by accident.
Light created by the flame,
The beauty birthed.
My passion unearthed.
A rose grew from ice,
When your warm heart ignited mine.

-A. Lewis

Thursday, March 7, 2013

A Question, In Earnest - 3/7/13

Just give me a moment of your time...
A distant corner of your mind.
Give me some sort of audience,
That's all I ask.
You see, there are things that need to be said,
Thoughts earnestly wanting to leave my head.
My heart's in my outstretched hands,
And that's how I'm being led.
I typically wear it on my sleeve,
But I figured you'd find that hard to believe...
Even if you did see it with your own eyes.
Your third one has deceived you before,
Looking past signs you couldn't ignore,
Projecting potential greatness on the disrespect that walked through the door,
So you're wary of the other two...
That's why I'm trying to give you another view.
I could make a case for why I should be loving you,
Or mention how I'd love to be touching you,
But I'd rather have my honesty be the one hugging you...
Instead of doses of lies drugging you,
A facade creeping up from behind and mugging you,
Taking away your love and your open mind, spiritually plugging you,
Leaving you connected to a rolling stone, constantly tugging you.
Pardon me if I'm bugging you,
It's unintentional.
But I think you're some type of exceptional,
So naturally I had to make my approach unconventional.
It's also unconditional.
Most like to play a game of back-and-forth,
Giving a little here, only if they receive a little there.
I've put mine all out on the line,
Hoping my farfetched attracts your rare.
I'm aware that I'm leaving myself so bare...
But if making myself defenseless penetrates your defenses,
Then I'll take any pain I have to bear.
And that includes reining in my heart,
If you decide you don't want to share.
...but all of that is neither here, nor there.
It comes down to a simple question:
May I have a chance, one that's fair?

-A. Lewis

Monday, March 4, 2013

4 AM...and the things that happen.

You were naked long before you undressed...
That bare soul was beauty my mind had never known.
I had never gone so far as to reach for the stars,
But I saw them in your eyes and wanted nothing more than to take us there.
Inspiration was motivation to reach the destination.
Your body was perfect to these flawed eyes...
Eyes flawed because they had never been adjusted to you.
The Creator's craftsmanship was never in question;
Your mind is an intricate maze,
Meant to confound any man unworthy of the blessing it protected,
And hone the worthy man, so that when he received it, he wouldn't neglect it.
Your design is sublime...
It is a strong, faithful soul that straightens your spine...
But tonight, it is meant to arch.
Skin will meet skin,
Senses will mingle,
Spirits will intertwine.
We come together to experience the eclipse.
Mind, body, and soul all align
To eclipse space, light, and time...
And in the shadow of it all, the world will fall.
Everything we know will vanish.
We will only be able to feel...so let's take advantage.
Every breath will fuel a locomotion of emotions...
A fiery commotion in an ocean of notions...
Thoughts, ideas, burned away.
Attention freely focused on the moment,
Attention we'd normally yearn to pay.
Love was happening at the behest of lust...
The worst of enemies brought together by the best of trust,
By the success of us.
Our connection was so deep...
It was as if we grew closer even in our sleep.
I exploited that depth, and it spilled over onto the sheets...
Minds wrapped in souls, expanding in bodies, wrapped in heat...
Sweating what couldn't have been salt....
It just felt so sweet.
I've never felt so invigorated by feeling so beat...
The connection had ascended,
The bond was now complete.

-A. Lewis

Thursday, February 28, 2013

Musings at 4:28 AM...

Just imagine someone trying to show you a new world...
Exploring different hot spots before entering a new galaxy.
Thrust by passion, reaching deep within to open your third eye to a new peak,
Where love and lust combine to blind all senses beyond the connection the two souls are making.
Legs and lips are quaking as astronomy takes place.
You reach a new world by seemingly flooding this one with the passion you can no longer contain,
I spill my soul into a container...
And it's back to Earth.

-A. Lewis

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Peering Over The Edge - 2/24/13

Begin us on a journey of knowledge.
We'll learn the balances between our strengths and weaknesses...
To the right person, imperfections can be flawless.
Ignite the flame.
Fuel the fire.
Incite my imagination,
Penetrate my passion,
Intrigue my soul.
Reach deeply,
As deeply as you've been hurt.
I'll meet you halfway; you'll never do all of the work.
Leave your past behind you.
I promise never to remind you,
Never to use scars as examples to rewind to,
Never to use your insecurities as a way to confine you.
Never to use your fears as a way to malign you.
I'd much rather define you...
See what's special about the way the Creator designed you.
I know I was put here for a purpose; I want to know if you think you're divine too.
We just might build a pyramid from the ground up...
It's key that we're starting from the bottom.
Bricks from our defenses are falling like leaves in autumn,
And they're dropping into all of the right places.
Piece by piece, forming a foundation at the right pace.
Stirring my soul has created a hurricane of honesty,
Washing upon the shores of your reluctance.
Barren fields absorb the pouring truth, bearing fruits of substance.
The parts of you that guys ignore,
The parts of you that you wish they would adore,
The parts of you that you didn't think were attractive anymore...
They all have bloomed anew.
That fire in me that you started? The Sun that helped them as they grew.
We never know the deeper meanings of the things we do...
So reach deeply,
As deeply as you've been hurt.
Intrigue my soul.
Penetrate my passion, 
Incite my imagination.
Fuel the fire.
Ignite the flame.
To the right person, imperfections can be flawless.
We'll learn the balances between our strengths and weaknesses...
Begin us on a journey of knowledge.

-A. Lewis

Saturday, February 9, 2013

A Brief Letter to a Bad B*tch - 2/9/13

I know.
I know you have issues,
That you've spent cold nights with wet tissues,
Tissues featuring smudges blacker than the scars on your soul.
It's ironic that while you believe your heart is made of gold,
You portray it as nothing but glitter and complain when it's cheaply sold.
I guess self-fulfilling prophecies never get old.
You would rather be right about the wrong things...
Rather ignore something big to harp on the small things.
But you can't expect to reach big dreams with small wings.
There is so much greatness within you.
More than you know. ...even more than you show.
What you think lies between your thighs,
Is trumped by what lies behind your eyes.
Sexual proficiency...emotional deficiency...mental inefficiency.
You know how to lay down...
Your emotions? You play down...
Whenever you think you should leave? You stay down.
But things shouldn't be the same now.
You're capable of so much more.
I know.
I know because I've seen the sparkle in your eye.
I've seen how intense you are when you really try.
Love has yielded nothing more than hatred,
But you must recall you've dealt with sinners that didn't consider your temple sacred.
They saw what they wanted and decided to take it,
Not considering that love is, and can only be, what you make it.
If love was shown to them in the dictionary, they'd probably still mistake it.
And in search of something real, you found ways to fake it.
Considering all of your defenses, I don't think any of them ever really saw you naked.
And despite being inside of you, none of them ever really penetrated.
Relations were being demonstrated,
and relationships were being implicated,
But reservations were being instigated.
You wanted to commit, but you were too afraid.
They never planned on committing, but acted as stand-up guys to get laid.
In sad irony, you resorted to mind games, hoping not to get played.
I know.
I know that you want something different, something intimate.
However, you'll date the wrong guy to be right upfront,
Rather than take a chance and possibly end up wrong a few months into it.
Courting seems laborious...and even though you'd never want to be notorious,
You wish you didn't have to go through that "get-to-know" phase.
Smokescreens have left you in a haze; sex has left you in a daze.
It's as though you're in a trance, doing it all in the same ways.
Familiarity makes it all easier...safer.
But if you don't change now, the world will change later.
Your purpose is much greater than being a pleasure for men,
While to yourself being a traitor,
Exchanging self-love for lust as a misled trader.
I know.
I know because I've paid attention...
Whenever your true feelings are mentioned,
I'm the one that listens.
I enjoy our friendship.
I see your future glisten.
I see the good in you, the part you seem to keep missing.
My dear friend, you are a queen...assume your position.

-A. Lewis