Turning Point Entertainment Group Online

"Helping independent artists connect the dots"

Archive for December, 2011

I’m NOT That Dude

Posted by tpegonline on December 30, 2011

I’m NOT That Dude
By Tyrone Turner
Copyright 2011
All rights reserved.

Please be advised that this poem has mature content.

NOTE: In this poem, movie titles and song titles are hyperlinked to IDMB.com and GrooveShark.com
so that you can read up on the film or listen to the tune. I hope this add to the flavor of this piece.

CLICK HERE to listen to a recitation of this poem.



You bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan.

Then you help the kids with their homework and tidy up the house like no other woman can.

You have to deal with a fast-pace and office politics at work every day.

But when you get home you don’t complain – not one word of grief or anger do you convey.

With all that you do, some TLC from your man would be nice.

All he wants to do is play his video games and talk about how he just beat Batman Arkham City twice.

He’s not a bad person, but his game ain’t tight at all.

He dares to brag about how he has you on lock and never heard the old saying that pride comes before the fall.

In the bedroom, he thinks he can Regulate like Warren G and that he is a Champion Lover like Shabba Ranks.

But you said that he is a Castaway, he is not Big enough and he needs to be patient and learn to listen so he can crack your Da Vinci Code like Tom Hanks.

When we’re together, I lend my ear to listen to your hopes, dreams, fears and fantasies.

I’m your private waiter because I’m here to serve you and I aim to please.

I say things to you that make you laugh and sometimes you tell me things that make you cry.

Sometimes you look at me and say, “Papi, eres loco! Ay! Ay! Ay!” [Daddy, you are crazy. Oh my, my, my!”]

The other day when dinner was your treat and you paid for the bill and we were about to go, you whispered in my ear, “Quiero tu lengua y tu pinga en mi toto.” [“I want your tongue and your d*ck in my p*ssy.”]

We ran off to our secret getaway downtown to go do the nasty.

As soon as we got in the door you said, “Take off your clothes.” I love it when you’re so sassy!

You follow me into the shower and I rub your body with that peppermint scented soap that you like.

You scrub my back, pinch me on my rump and turn me around as you drop to your knees and sound-check the mic.

You go on for a few minutes but I pull your long, black, light brown streaked hair and I told you, “Don’t worry about drying off. Just go to the room,” is what I said.

I proceeded to kiss, lick, and suck that thing so greedily you nearly peed the bed.

The sweat glistened off your beige, butter pecan skin as your moan of ecstacy got louder and you panted faster and faster.

Like the Shogun of Harlem asked Bruce Leroy in The Last Dragon , I asked you, “Who’s the master?”

While I was giving it to you from behind I reached under and played with your breasts with one hand, and tugged gently on your hair with the other.

You know I was tearing it up because like Shaft, I’m one bad mother –

What? Huh? Shut my mouth? Well, okay, but you turn me on and get my blood flowing.

Eventually we were both satisfied, and got cleaned up so we could get going.

We left our passion party then caught a cab to go back uptown, and you said, “Muchas gracias, querido. He pasado un rato muy agradable.” [“Thank you, sweetheart. I had a great time.”]

I responded, “Yeah, me too. You took me to the Candy Shop – like that song by Olivia and that brother they call 50.

You say that I’m too cool about our “arrangement,” and that I seem to be comfortable with how things have been going.

I figure that we have a nice program running so we should keep the good times rolling.

You mentioned how you want to spend more time together, travel abroad and become an official item one day.

That kind of forced my hand so now there are some things I have to say.

Girl, you know that you’re my L3 — my lovely latin lady, and I’m your friend, confidant, and your lover because your man doesn’t treat you right.

I’m always a phone call or text message away – morning, noon, or night.

There is something that you must understand, Prince sang a song about this – I Could Never Take the Place of Your Man.

When you need a plumber to unclog your pipes, think of me as Bookman, Scheider, or Overton – I’m a good maintenance man.

But catching feelings and being together as a couple, that was not and will never be the plan.

We can hang out laugh and joke and have dinner and such.

It isn’t all about sex because looking at the big picture, the physical doesn’t matter all that much.

It is more about having fun and being free to be yourself.

That is why I leave most ladies on the shelf.

You make me smile and I respect you a lot.

However, all this talk about being together and having another tot.

You have your kids and I have mine and we’re both climbing the corporate ladder as fast as we can and have professional goals we want to achieve.

If our arrangement has to change I will certainly have to leave.

We can just be friends, if that works better for you – I’m not trying to be rude.

But you seem to want to make me a boyfriend or a husband, and I’m NOT that dude!

CLICK HERE to listen to a recitation of this poem.


Posted in black art, black romance, spoken word | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

We’ve Met Before

Posted by tpegonline on December 27, 2011

“We’ve Met Before”
By Tyrone Turner
Copyright 2011
All rights reserved.


We finish each other’s sentences and laugh heartily at each other’s jokes.

When we were at that lounge the other night we snapped on people sitting around us as we nibbled on appetizers and sipped on our rum and cokes.

When I look into your eyes it seems as if I’ve known you forever, but it has only been a year or so.

I love that you sometimes insist on picking up the bill because you’re not stingy with your dough.

You work hard all day and can party hard all night.

Sometimes it is hard to keep up with you but to decline your invitations to hang out wouldn’t be polite.

From your threaded eyebrows, that cute mole on your cheek, and those full, kissable lips.

Down to your French pedicured feet, plump calves, rounded thighs, and shapely hips.

That calming voice, comforting touch, and warm embrace.

If they could put you in a bottle I would buy a case!

We have exhilirating debates about politics, religion, and philosophy.

You shared some interesting insight on the naturalistic fallacy — things are what they are and NOT what they ought to be.

We shared our dreams of places we wanted to travel one day.

How we would both rather be swaying to reggae music while having dinner in Montego Bay.

Visiting the Coliseum in Rome and the Parthenon in Greece.

Touring Addis Ababa sampling locally brewed honey bear and learning to speak some ancient Ge’ez.

Practicing morning Tai Chi in Tian’anmen Square, watching belly dancers in Casablanca, and taking part in the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona, Spain.

Visiting museums in London and running through the streets of Bangkok to escape the rain.

Taste testing chocolates in Geneva and partying at Crop Over in Barbados.

Relaxing on the beach getting side-by-side massages in Turks and Caicos.

Enjoying shish kebabs in Istanbul off to then visit Olmec ruins in Mexico.

We’ve become globe trotters like Carmen San Diego.

Being with you feels so right I wonder how I got along before you walked into my life.

I know in my heart that this is serious and one day you will be my wife.

It is a weird feeling though, like we’re picking up where we left off from something in the past.

Our compatibility is off the charts, rock-solid, and our love is built to last.

We both wear our hearts on our sleeves – for each other anyway.

After making love, sometimes we just lie there listening to the silence – neither of us having a word to say.

Everything is so natural and we’re both excited about what the future may have in store.

It may sound crazy, but this seems like a repeat – like we’ve met before.

Posted in black art, black romance, poetry, spoken word | Tagged: , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

See you next lifetime

Posted by tpegonline on December 16, 2011

This art piece is called Afterglow, by Alonzo Adams

“See You Next Lifetime”
By Tyrone Turner
Copyright 2011
All rights reserved

You got your man and I got my lady.

There is fiery passion between us but we don’t want to be shady.

Your husband is a good husband and my wife is a good wife.

He’s a good father and she’s a good mother so let’s not cause strife.

We love our children. They are the apples of our eyes.

Acting on our emotions would be very reckless and not at all wise.

I can’t do anything but imagine how it could be.

Taking on the world. Doing our thing. Just you and me.

Making love to you on a beach in Barbados during a summer sun shower.

Looking over Paris at night from the Eiffel Tower.

Camping in the desert next to the Grand Canyon while watching the sun rise in east.

Being on safari in South Africa marveling at all of the regal beasts.

Dancing the night way in New Orleans while getting drunk off shots.

Trekking the Andes mountains where the natives teach us how to mold clay pots.

Countless nights at home with you and our children watching movies and talking about things that happened in our day.

People are treasures and the finest things in life doesn’t require us to pay.

Working out together in our home gym working up a good sweat.

Going on shopping trips every month because we don’t have any debt.

Kissing your lips and pulling your hair.

Nibbling on your neck while giving you a passionate stare.

Rubbing you down with warm body oils and while feeding you ice cream.

Making passionate love to you where we both climax and scream.

Lying there together naked glowing with after-sex sweat.

Falling off to sleep with smiles on our faces knowing we’re each other’s pet.

I hope reincarnation is real because I want a chance to be with you one day.

I’m at a loss of words – there isn’t much more I can say.

Thinking about being with you is like being thirsty for a tall, cool drink with a twist of lime.

We can’t do it now, baby, but like Erykah sang, “See You Next Lifetime.”

Posted in black art, black romance, poetry | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

Forces of Nature

Posted by tpegonline on December 13, 2011

Forces of Nature
by Tyrone Turner
Copyright 2011
All rights reserved

This poem is a series of 10 haiku poems that are strung together in a series to tell a story. According to Dictionary.com, a haiku is a major form of Japanese verse, written in 17 syllables divided into 3 lines of 5, 7, and 5 syllables, and employing highly evocative allusions and comparisons, often on the subject of nature or one of the seasons; or a poem written in this form. This poem introduces the reader to some gods of Yoruba/Santeria/Voodoo.

Santeria, Yoruba, Voodoo and related religions are very, very misunderstood. It is not, in my opinion, “the Devil’s work.” I’ll leave it at that but I encourage you to do your own research. Personally, I respect people for whatever they may believe – as long as whatever it is that promotes good moral conduct and the brotherhood of man.

This poem has 10 verses – 10 haiku tied together to tell a story/present a message.

Do not be afraid.
It’s not devil stuff.
It’s what’s around us.

Hollywood shows us
scary things. Sacrifices,
murders, and torture.

created each one of usl.
All praises are due.

Ellegua is a
trickster, but protects your house.
Divine messenger.

Obatala is
the king of the white cloth. He
creates man and land.

Oshun is the queen
of love, intimacy, wealth,
and diplomacy.

Yemanja. Mother
and protector of children.
She is the ocean.

Changó is the god
of lighting, thunder and fire.
He’s a warrior.

Again, they are us
and we are them. We’re of the
elements of earth.

They are all around
Us. Above, below – all sides.
Forces of nature.

Posted in poetry, religion, spirituality | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

Little Man

Posted by tpegonline on December 5, 2011

by Tyrone Turner * 2011 * All rights reserved.

Girl, I better never find a genie in a bottle.
I would make one wish so fast it would be like a race car at full throttle.

I’d say, “Genie, give me the power to shrink myself at will into a little man.”

The genie would probably reply, “Master, I don’t understand.”
So I’d have to let the genie know what I mean.

I’d do this by explaining a scene while I assume the position of a gangsta lean.

I’d say, “Genie, when I have the power to become a little man at will, I’ll be able to make just about any woman totally chill.”

She can carry me around in her pocket book and such.

I am a little man so I don’t weigh much.

She can carry me on a pendant that rests between her plump breasts that are tucked away in a bra.

From time to time I’d play with those pillows and pluck them like I was the chellist Yo Yo Ma.

Just to keep a devilish smile on her face and to make her melt like butter.

I’d suck on her nipples and make her eyelids flutter.

I can swing on her locks that drape down her back to play hop scotch on the tattoo on her butt.

I’d shine that booty with warm body oil and while singing a verse from Donnell Jones’s song, “Ooooooo, say what? Say what? Say what? Ooooooo, girl, I know you know what’s up.”

Then I’d roll her onto her back and lick on her tummy.

I smell that hot dish percolating – yummy!

I am a freak and I want to let her know what I’m about.

So I’d shrink myself even smaller, swim into her sugar walls, and lick her from the inside out.

So tell me, genie. Can you now understand why I want the power to at will become a little man?”

“Damn!” said the genie, “That sounds like a good plan. I will grant you the wish to become at will a little man.”

“Thank you, genie. I appreciate the favor. Now I’m like Felix the cat because I have a bag of tricks with more than the Baskin & Robbins’s 31 flavors.

“Master, your wish is granted and now I must depart. Make sure to be gentle with each woman’s heart.”

“Yes I will genie.” I replied. “I’ve not been a player in the past and I am not about to start.”

I just want to satisfy the lady I’m with the best that I can.

Now do you understand why I’d like to at will become a little man?

Posted in black art, black romance, poetry, spoken word | Tagged: , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »