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STAY WITH “r”s WHAT?s at:
Can’t believe as a black creative, I feel the need to post this in
20-mf-24:
JUNE 10, 2024 8:59 PM
The Art of Nakedness. Something happened to me around the age… | by R. M. Lawrence | Jun, 2024 | Medium
JULY 01, 2022 11:13 PM
Oil of youth…
I recognize me. I indulge because I know what you know and I am at peace. I know that I am worth indulgence. I know because you are too and I indulge in us both. I look into your eyes when you speak to me — even when I cannot see them. Breathe. Yes, I breathe and smile inside as I hear you listening to me. Your hearing stammers. You are nervous, but at home. You hear between the lines and that is very special of you. You know what you hear. You know I am here. You know that I know that you know that I know you. You know that I know you know me too. It’s the most simple complication. Breathe. You breathe and I am there — even when you wish I wasn’t. You shake your head to rid yourself of what you’d love to call confusion, but it is clarity — it is the ocean. You’re drowning. You emerge harmless and whole. You walk away to me. The steps are steps that send a rhythm upward with more steps and the music enraptures. Listen to that. Dance. Dance. Dance. Jump. Spin. Drum. Drum. Drum. Drum. Dance. Feel it. Wet, splashing, oil of youth.
MARCH 22, 2021 11:11 PM
YesZIR. Listen: I find myself almost at journey’s end of a quest that has no title but such a detailed meaning. Yo. I have descended and ascended and descended and progressed and regressed and aged and reformed – infintely evolving yet never complete. I find myself happy and free to know the next chapter. I can’t wait to start zounding again. I belong to no one and everyone at once. Let’s…
SEPTEMBER 10, 2020 11:37 PM
How close is insanity to a breakthrough to true individuality? How close is passion to convoluted obsession? How close is 0 degrees to 360 degrees? How close is isolation to true independence? How close is popularity to true sycophantism? How close is originality to pure inscrutability? How close is unconditional love to enabling? How close is distance to trust? How close is resentment to attrition? How close is schadenfreude to pure insight? How close is close? How close is not close? How close is is? How close is not is? How close?
SEPTEMBER 07, 2020 5:41 PM
SHEER GLADNESS
I’m gone. Just say the word. Do the look – nod, point, grab, pull, shove, write, pass me the keynote for humming. I’m coming already. Just go; keep it steady. I’ll know. Show me the day; show me the time. The clock – so sublime. Change it anytime, all the time. Every time is summer time. I need to fulfil. I need you to kill my blood to live. Yes. I’m pleading for forgiveness. Can I sin with you? I wanna win with you in a – maybe, well, perhaps – a certain yes. Damn right – just a second timelessness. Hold my fever; this is sick. Stroke my knowledge; teach me slick. Ride my ambition. That’s it – Oooooo shit. Tell on my ass – petition. Tell everything. Make me ache and shiver from revealing my most inner yeah. I don’t care. Who needs a secret when the screaming is the truth? Don’t tease. Goddammit please, please now – please. Take me out to the ball floor. I must trade sayings with your ignorance. You are so goddamn calm with the meanness. My badness is my madness, sheer gladness. I’ve had it. Fuck…
JUNE 07, 2020 3:15 AM
Choc it up.
Warm summer day – hot, smooth delight. Satisfies on a frosty night. Sweet stew shamanism sparks the high. Touches the tongue, the soul, then – sigh. Fire’s lit. Thick aroma. Too late to quit. Nature’s edge. Pulse is wired. Dopamine. Heart on fire. Irresistible. Carnal quagmire. Magic bean powder. For what it’s worth. Never enough, but always too much. Salt of the earth – just for the spark. Chili pepper. Even better: Cinnamon bark. Whisk up a union. Flavor communion. Splash of cream as not to perish…enough milk and vanilla to cherish. Simmer – slow heat, form the gravy. Intensify the heat so – no, yes, maybe more milk …Sweetener for bitter chunks of silky shaven intoxicating darkness, obsidian sharpness sending waves from solar rays imbedded in strong burgundy clay of wonder funk. That’s the score. Drench the core more, then more. Feel it smolder. Amore. Pour in libation holder. Richer when the blend is older. Meant for ease. Mildly spicy. I see that the Maya knew this brew for centuries. Cocoa voodoo. Cured with cornmeal prophecies. Savor and swallow. Save in a bottle. Savior, Sweet Savior Lord Xocolatl. The good disease -yes, Cortez spread. Strange leaf litter. Back then it was much more bitter. The British, curt and pensive, made it sweeter and expensive. Was a rave to all the Aztecs. You can feel it in your gut, your spine is at mercy, your thighs getting bigger, your smile getting sicker, your breath getting quicker, your ooh – there’s a flicker, hot smack on the tip of your lips as you sip then you gulp. Drips packed with flavonoids, antioxidants, and calcium – erasing depression…as you come to realize with your eyes – your world’s full of gases. Your world’s of full glasses. Helium shower as you devour – rapidly increasing brain power by the hour. Gotta endure. So much pressure if it’s pure. So much pressure when it’s pure. So much pressure because it’s pure. Just a little more. Just a little more. Just a lot more. So much more. Just a little more. Yes. Yes. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Yes. Sigh. Ahhhhh…
June 05, 2020 9:22 PM
Not that we don’t appreciate the cheerleading, but so many of you (Employers, Corporations, Producers, Theatre communities, Universities and/or Departments, Churches, etc) have such a history of NOT being an ally to those seeking justice and equality that there’s going to take more than a couple of “ally” posts (substantial amount of them shared instead of originally crafted) to convince. So…you know, keep working in the right direction.
MAY 01, 2020 2:24 AM
A poem. I put it there. Just a whisper. Now it’s all you hear. Surrounding Zounds. Scratching you, healing wounds. Poetry. You unknowingly longed for it to arrive. Killing you by keeping you so alive. You never saw it coming. I never planned – I always knew to give; now it’s at hand. This prose is yours: haunting you, helping you, holding you, hating you, hosting you, having you hungry and thirsty for more – full and drowning. Verse – barely touching you up and down the surface first, then drenching your curse, blessing you bare everywhere. I swear. A thought, a start, a sigh, a care. A poem. I put it there.
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ranneyl@aol.com |
JUNE 07, 2020 3:15 AM
Choc it up.
Warm summer day – hot, smooth delight. Satisfies on a frosty night. Sweet stew shamanism sparks the high. Touches the tongue, the soul, then – sigh. Fire’s lit. Thick aroma. Too late to quit. Nature’s edge. Pulse is wired. Dopamine. Heart on fire. Irresistible. Carnal quagmire. Magic bean powder. For what it’s worth. Never enough, but always too much. Salt of the earth – just for the spark. Chili pepper. Even better: Cinnamon bark. Whisk up a union. Flavor communion. Splash of cream as not to perish…enough milk and vanilla to cherish. Simmer – slow heat, form the gravy. Intensify the heat so – no, yes, maybe more milk …Sweetener for bitter chunks of silky shaven intoxicating darkness, obsidian sharpness sending waves from solar rays imbedded in strong burgundy clay of wonder funk. That’s the score. Drench the core more, then more. Feel it smolder. Amore. Pour in libation holder. Richer when the blend is older. Meant for ease. Mildly spicy. I see that the Maya knew this brew for centuries. Cocoa voodoo. Cured with cornmeal prophecies. Savor and swallow. Save in a bottle. Savior, Sweet Savior Lord Xocolatl. The good disease -yes, Cortez spread. Strange leaf litter. Back then it was much more bitter. The British, curt and pensive, made it sweeter and expensive. Was a rave to all the Aztecs. You can feel it in your gut, your spine is at mercy, your thighs getting bigger, your smile getting sicker, your breath getting quicker, your ooh – there’s a flicker, hot smack on the tip of your lips as you sip then you gulp. Drips packed with flavonoids, antioxidants, and calcium – erasing depression…as you come to realize with your eyes – your world’s full of gases. Your world’s of full glasses. Helium shower as you devour – rapidly increasing brain power by the hour. Gotta endure. So much pressure if it’s pure. So much pressure when it’s pure. So much pressure because it’s pure. Just a little more. Just a little more. Just a lot more. So much more. Just a little more. Yes. Yes. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Yes. Sigh. Ahhhhh…
June 05, 2020 9:22 PM
Not that we don’t appreciate the cheerleading, but so many of you (Employers, Corporations, Producers, Theatre communities, Universities and/or Departments, Churches, etc) have such a history of NOT being an ally to those seeking justice and equality that there’s going to take more than a couple of “ally” posts (substantial amount of them shared instead of originally crafted) to convince. So…you know, keep working in the right direction.
MAY 01, 2020 2:24 AM
A poem. I put it there. Just a whisper. Now it’s all you hear. Surrounding Zounds. Scratching you, healing wounds. Poetry. You unknowingly longed for it to arrive. Killing you by keeping you so alive. You never saw it coming. I never planned – I always knew to give; now it’s at hand. This prose is yours: haunting you, helping you, holding you, hating you, hosting you, having you hungry and thirsty for more – full and drowning. Verse – barely touching you up and down the surface first, then drenching your curse, blessing you bare everywhere. I swear. A thought, a start, a sigh, a care. A poem. I put it there.
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