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ExpressionsByLewis

Undividual Poet

chocolate addict

fiend
fiend

i can’t get past your aesthetic

hope you don’t mind

i got married for

the lifetime supply of chocolate

you just

overflow with loveliness

quencher of this manhood

attracted to the cocoa

dripping just south

from the center of your soul

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eatables

PBNJ
PBNJ

i hate a late breakfast

and i don’t like brunch

but i sure do like

dinner for lunch

a juicy porterhouse

with red potatoes at noon

blackberry merlot

six hours too soon

i like creamy peanut butter

with strawberry preserves

at two in the morning

just to balance my nerves

whole wheat bread

for the love of texture

food made and eaten

in the seat of my affections

trill

artesian
artesian

she could cuss you clean

and get god to move

a mountain

a bullet

a meth lab

too

did things

quick to get other folk killed

she never played a part

always fit the bill

sunrise in the bittermost winter

upon behest

warm and penetrating

just like her request

wind and hail subside

for the kids to go to school

she was real

she was true

she wrote the damn rules

bruh

le fuzz
le fuzz

who can be mad

when somebody hate theyself

to the point they willin

to put heart on the shelf

and soften up they mind

and harden up they hide

and bag they neighbor soul

and sling it to the side

who can be mad

when wickedness is normal

sin is taught as natural

and fuckery is normal

when god is dressed in chains

disguised as holy words

when fear is clad with hate

and lovewear look absurd

who can be mad

when power prey on weakness

not of other folk

but grafted in where should be meekness

when people destroy worlds

cuz they don’t know how to live

lookin passed they hirt

pride as the sedative

everybody

can be pissed the fuck off

thcha (the cha)

cha
cha

thirsty

no reason humans

anywhere in this world

should walk its crust

in want

hungry

no body ought to lack

what is needed

to live

cold

no one i know

enjoys the destitution of poor folk

their struggle to exist

hopeless

there are a few people

i know not

who want poverty

for the common

angry

lower case s curl

arabian night
arabian night

don’t be mad my homie look

like three stacks

and yo side chick look like

she been weed whacked

don’t hate cuz

my play clothes neat

and yo son hair look

like taco meat

don’t trip that you been

halfway round the world

and never before seen

a lower case s curl

don’t front them boyz

who ain’t been to church

they too heavy

to dodge the search

don’t beef with turkeys

who ain’t flyin the coop

they too chicken

to stay out the soup

flip it

exhibit f
exhibit f

i found my soul in a

dimly lit room

rank with unfiltered cigarette smoke

tired walls

hyper aged by cuss words

stained with residue from weak stomachs

in drunken men

wading through heartbreak

impressions in the carpet

showed where a pool table must have rested heavily for generations

two suede oxfords underneath grey pinstriped pant legs

cut off by shadow

led to an old man i could not see

and i knew

i knew i did not want that life

that life did not want me to live

let me die another day

mr brown

dred lyfe
dred lyfe

fleecy locks and black complexion

cannot forfeit nature’s claim

skin may differ

but affection

dwell in blacks and white the same

were i so tall to reach the pole

or grasp the ocean at a span

i must be measured for my soul

the mind

the standard of a man

(Ahntaeus Brown)

soul pick

soul pick
soul pick

a world without noise

does not exist

even if music never sounded

if no grass grew

no wind to rustle it

if the axis never required earth

to spin

even if the vibes of those

who lived before us

suddenly left us alone

in the soul of what is

buzzes what can be

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