The definition of the word
Is something that cannot be obtained.
But im sitting here contemplating the word
Like a pastor who is ordained.
Wanting your attention,
Not wanting to come off vain.
Can’t let on how much I want your attention either..
Therein lies the risk of being labeled crazy, insane.

Its the only word to describe a woman like you.
A woman who samples her men
Like a connoisseur does food.
I think you know what you want,
Even before it comes into view.
When you have an appearance like yours..
Whats the point of a menu?
Chew. Swallow. Digest.
Sample my thoughts.
Come find out if im different from the rest.
Let me see if you are…

Because I know it as well as you.
Your beauty lies
Far beyond hips and thighs.
Im of the opinion
That your eyes
Could pierce and penetrate
Any of the game and lies
I could throw your way.
So lets compromise.
Ill give you my information,
Then you can analyze
Who I am.
What Im about.
And let me find out..
If you are…

It is what you are.
Or at least how guys must see you.
No bae. No boo.
Nobody seems to have a clue.
So maybe I can try this
From another angle.
Get some insight,
Maybe another view…
Then maybe you can tell me,
How a brother can get somewhere with you.


– Kev

I Could

I could love you
without questioning
the stance to my sentiment
hold your confidence
with each kiss
place time into our hands
and control the
seconds of each moment
executed on our sensual clock
demonstrate to you the deepness
of this unification
without a glance of looking back

I could love you
until the sun awakens
the sandy beaches
and the moonlight
displays the twinkling
stars dancing in the twilight
sleep peacefully in your thoughts
stir dreams of wanting the need
to complete every
line that holds you and I
tickle the happiness
shone in your mahogany eyes
and provoke the sincerity
that spills the promise
of eternity

I could love you
like an addiction
to loving myself
praising the warmth
of your soul
tasting the thrill
of completion of each
chapter that we wrote
of every touch
every word
written, spoken…
sealing the deal
of destiny
opening the passion
that delivers serenity

I could love you
I could…

I really…could

but you only allow
me to love
you from afar


– Lc.francois

9/11 FreeWrite

Infinite miles decorate the secrets sequestered in my mind….

deep in flight

I seek refuge beyond heavens gate…

this anger I beg to escape

But it eats at me like…

Tasting an apple laced in cyanide

And I…

Run to escape.

I’m an addict to my pain

My fears

My past

No matter how much I try to escape

My past haunts me

It taunts me

Taunts me. Torments me.

I am a victim of my fear and a captive of the unknown.

This fear…. it has begun to shape me…

and I… I cant fight it anymore.

This fear has held me for so long.

To where it’s part of my mind and soul.

I try not to give in, but it’s

too big too wide and too strong.

How can I fall in love with the thing that has crippled me for so long?

I’ve found pleasure in my pain.

To the point where I’ve become masochistic

to my own emotional well being.

It hurts, but the alternative is much worst.

It’s either feel pain or feel nothing at all…

Sometimes feeling nothing at all is therapeutic….

thinking feeling processing… rage against a stressful machine…

security in wishful thinking seems like a foreign concept…

everything I’ve ever wanted stolen…

the thief wanted more than me than I…..

the simplicity to sail into the waterways that hold no discourse

seem more promising…my soul the volume I dial down..

these heavy wings I submerge…drown

Contributes from LC Francois, Kevin, Rod, Andi, and Noble

Symphony #844

My body duets to yours, whispering from behind…
“I got you. Let me take you for this ride…”
as I pleasure what’s mine.
Pleasing you is what I crave.
Your body convex, mine concave.
Your hands reaching for nothing…
and everything with each heavy breath
Like a conductor guiding music.
Your moans sing to me sweet simple lyrics….
“Right there baby…”
“I missed this…”
While my strokes sing along.
Your thighs join in on the chorus…
singing in a violent vibrato
As I conduct our orgasmic symphony.
Sighs like the string section…
My strokes hitting hard like timpanis…
How did we get here? Your body called me to hear it’s concerto.
Moans on a rhythmic crescendo…
Falsettos in accelerando.
A cappellas and accentato…
You’d rather go adagietto but baby this is my stroke show.
Strumming like a cello, rub it real slow
Strum the right notes leave your thighs like jello…
You say, “If you need an instrument you can play me”
I’ll play you baby…making sure to get the right notes fingered carefully…
As our bodies create an orgasmic…
Symphony 844.
(With contributions from LC Francois, Noble and Andi)