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Archive for February, 2012

Please, Check Your Baggage

Posted by tpegonline on February 18, 2012

This poem is a series of 17 haiku poems that are strung together in a series to tell a story. I call this style that I created a haiku chain poem. 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 is about when you meet someone who treats you poorly or never really gives you a chance because of something that happened in their past – what someone else did to them. It also could be because you yourself have broken their heart and are looking to get a second chance.

Also, whenever I mention a song title within the body of this poem, I hyperlink it to the song’s audio file on GrooveShark.com.

I hope that you like this piece.

“Please, Check Your Baggage”
By Tyrone Turner
Copyright 2012
All rights reserved.

______________________

You’ve been around the
world
, like Lisa Stansfield but still
ain’t found your baby.

You find what you seek.
If you look for cheaters, you’ll
find them. Search anew.

If you expect the
worst from men, that is what you’ll
get. These words are true.

The best man in the
world can be standing right in
front of you. See him?

If you have on the
wrong glasses, you can’t see things
clearly. Blind as bats.

Whatever happened
in the past, needs to stay there.
Keep your eyes forward.

Learn how to become
a gemologist — one who
knows diamonds when seen.

Know what you really
want from a lover. You must
be very precise.

If you do not know
where you want to go, any
path will get you there.

Love is a house. But
you said that love don’t live here
anymore
. So sad.

If you give me your
heart, you’d know love is under
new management
, hon.

Don’t be afraid, girl.
I’m here to love you and treat
you right
. Day and night.

Give yourself a fresh
start. You deserve much better.
Come and fly with me.

I have one rule though.
You can’t carry anything.
Please, check your baggage.

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The Chance You Never Gave Me

Posted by tpegonline on February 15, 2012

“The Chance You Never Gave Me”
By Tyrone Turner
Copyright 2012
All rights reserved

Fellas, you ever met a young lady that you were really digging and I thought that good things would happen but then all of the sudden, she goes silent on you? What’s up with that?!?! Well, maybe she has some baggage that she needs to check. If you have the time and desire, perhaps you’ll stick around and help her work through it. Maybe you won’t.

_____________________________________________________

Ahhhh…

The night we met left me with the feeling a child has when they are expecting that special gift to be under the tree Christmas morning.

We ate. We drank. We laughed and shared stories that nearly made tears well-up in our eyes.

The eyes are the windows to the soul and when I looked into your soft brown eyes, I saw visions of hope and future promise..

I was immersed in the sweetness of the words that poured from your mouth.

When you spoke, your tongue and lips moved slowly as you perfectly enunciated each and every word.

Your hand gestures and your facial expressions accented your words.

I kept it real with you, but as Dave Chappelle reminded us, sometimes keeping it real can go wrong.

Hmmm…

Maybe that is what happened in this case.

You gave me your number and you agreed that we should go out and get better acquainted, but you don’t ever call and you’re slow to return text messages.

What’s up with that? You’re not trying to play me for a chump, are you?

I don’t get it. I thought we both saw eye to eye about playing games.

Whoa, whoa, whoa…

Let me slow down. I could be jumping to conclusions.

Perhaps you’re not playing games. It could be that your heart is scarred from the disappointments and hurt from your past.

Maybe it is hard to gain your trust.

Could it be that you are afraid of the unknown?

Do you have a fear of success? Self-esteem issues?

I know that I am far from perfect and that I have a lot of “stinky stuff” with me, but I work hard for and aim to please the woman that I’m with.

I would have your back and help you to accomplish your goals and push you to pursue your dreams.

Sweetheart, I have sore emotional knees so I can’t run after you.

I put everything out in front and welcome any questions you have. If nothing else, I am honest.

Time is an invaluable, irreplaceable commodity and I refuse to waste it.

Who knows what could’ve been? It may have been a wonderful sight to see.

But we’ll probably never know because it was the chance you never gave me.

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What Kind of Man?

Posted by tpegonline on February 10, 2012

This poem is a series of 10 haiku poems that are strung together in a series to tell a story. I call this style that I created a haiku chain poem. 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.

In this poem, I’m writing about the misogynistic behavior that some (not all, but some) direct toward black women. A lot of this comes from big boys – they are not men, but boys. You know, the kind of chumps that wear their pants like the guys pictured to the left.

Anyway, before I get into a full social commentary, I hope that you enjoy this piece and thank you in advance for taking the time to read this post.

What Kind of Man?
By Tyrone Turner
All rights reserved.

__________________________________________

Please tell me, people.
Who calls his women bitches,
hos, stunts, and skeezers?

Allowing them to be
presented to the world as
loose, godless, women.

Leaving the mothers
of their children behind to
struggle for themselves.

If you can’t drop loot
do not try to knock their boots.
Wrap it up, fellas!

You were born of a
woman. Don’t you have sisters
and daughters, my man?

So watch your foul mouth.
Offer them words of kindness.
Do not abuse them.

Our lovely women
are kissed by the sun and they
are so dag-on fine!

Their bodies are such
fecund fields that yield much fruit.
They are beautiful.

A confidant, friend,
lover, partner, coveted
prize. What a treasure.

So, will you be a
man that protects or harms her?
Damn. What kind of man?

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Our First Date

Posted by tpegonline on February 10, 2012

“Our First Date”
By Tyrone Turner
Copyright 2012
All rights reserved.

This is a rhyme-scheme poem where, as is my signature mark, the title of the poem is in the last line of the poem. This poem is an introspection with creative embellishments on how first encounters may lead to first dates. Also, for your enjoyment, whenever I mention the title of a song I have it in bold italics and hyperlinked to the audio file on GrooveShark.com. I hope you like it.
___________________________________

I didn’t want to hang out but my homeboy was stressed-out and feeling down.

He was catching heat from the boss over some BS. The boss-man is a clown.

My homey told me that he recently met a young lady online and showed me the pic and she was a dime.

He mentioned that he was looking forward to the day when the two of them could spend some time.

As if she heard him, she texted him and said that she was in Chelsea hanging out with two of her girls.

This young lady was a gem so chances were that her friends were pearls.

My main goal was to be my boy’s wing man so he could get his romance poppin’.

I had no idea that my evening would be jaw-dropping.

When we walked in the club we saw that they were a gorgeous party of three.

Damn. I don’t know who had the biggest smile on their grill. My homey or me.

We went over and made introductions, sat down and ordered a round, appetizers and such.

I looked at the honey complexioned goddess to my left and like Rupee, I was Tempted to Touch.

We started chopping-up game about work, kids, and how we both have a very sensitive “bullshitometer” – we don’t like nonsense.

We have both been there, done that and prefer to be drama-free and avoid all suspense.

You mentioned how you were a law enforcement officer and how you’ve been on the job for about 7 years.

I admired your lovely face and nearly wanted to Shout like the cats from Tears for Fears.

Long shapely legs, slim waist, protruding assets that accented your silhouette.

100% eye candy that fellas dream about – hoping they can get.

I was very honest with you about my “complicated” situation and such.

I just wanted to keep it real by putting it out in front so I’ll know right away if it would trouble you too much.

You appreciated that I was real with it and you shared some things about yourself.

I was very impressed with you. You were for certain top-shelf.

The DJ was jammin’ but the dance floor was empty.

We decided to show people how it’s done – just you and me.

As you swayed and gyrated to the music I wished that I could pour you into a cup.

I knew that you would be a sweet nectar and I would greedily drink you up.

Girl, those knee-hi boots and that short black dress.

Inside of my mind I was drooling and was a sloppy hot mess.

Your perfume was intoxicating – it smelled so good I felt like a junkie on purple hazey.

The Fine Young Cannibals said it best, She Drives Me Crazy.

I held your body close to mine so you could feel the muscles of my manhood. I enjoyed the firmness of your flesh.

As a man I couldn’t help but think carnal thoughts of how it would be with you if we mesh.

We had a good time laughing and dancing – all eyes were on us.

It was time to go to our respective homes so we could get to work on time to avoid having our bosses having to fuss.

We exchanged numbers agreed to out soon.

When we walked outside, you were even more beautiful in the pale light Under the Cherry Moon.

Your friend and mine, me and you all jumped in the car and you all dropped us off at the train station.

You reminded me that soon you’d be going on a Caribbean vacation.

I suggested we go out this Saturday and you were down for that.

I gave you a soft kiss on your cheek and said I enjoyed the fun and the chat.

On the way home I told my boy that I had fun and that you were “Tony the Tiger GREAT!”

I am so looking forward to our first date.

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I Am Akuba

Posted by tpegonline on February 3, 2012

This poem is a series of 17 haiku poems that are strung together in a series to tell a story. I call this style that I created a haiku chain poem. 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.

In this poem, I’m introducing you to a character that I created. Her name is Akuba Annan. She is a supernatural being that will be featured in a short story that I wrote called Corporate Casanova. The short story will be bonus material in my next poetry book that will be released later this year.

I hope that you enjoy this piece and thank you in advance for taking the time to read this post.

“I Am Akuba”
By Tyrone Turner
Copyright 2012
All rights reserved.

_______________________________________________

Smooth, strong, dark coffee.
I will put glide in your slide
and pep to your step.

Freshly braided hair.
All natural. Chemical-
free. Blessed by the gods.

Stunningly pretty
face. Nicely threaded eyebrows.
Long, thick eyelashes.

Full, kissable lips.
Plump, firm, round bottom and hips.
Taut, juicy bosom.

Shapely legs that hold
up the work of art that I
am. Enjoy the view.

Thirty six up top.
Twenty eight in the middle.
Forty three below.

My measurements are
crazy. Buffie the Body
has nothing on me.

Fine chocolate mousse.
Tasty to the tongue. Candy
for your hungry eyes.

My fragrance is so
intoxicating. You will
be in a stupor.

Husky voice that makes
men listen to every word
that I might whisper.

My pretty brown eyes
can peer into your soul and
see your future fate.

Not written in stone
is your future. You can change
what may come to pass.

Many are game for
wild things – down for whatever.
Change your lying ways.

Silly tricks are for
kids. They’re not necessary
to get what you want.

I will show you what
may happen to you if you
stay on your doomed path.

Please heed my warnings
I give them once and one time
only. Choose wisely.

I will visit you
in a vision and a dream.
I am Akuba.

Posted in black art, black romance, poetry, spoken word | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments »

Shaken, not Stirred

Posted by tpegonline on February 1, 2012

James Bond, Agent 007, is famous for saying that he likes his Martinis shaken, not stirred. When it comes to love-making, sometimes a woman wants to be shaken, other times she wants to be stirred. Just make sure you have your shaker and spoon handy so that you can accommodate either request.

This poem is a rhyme scheme poem where I start with a scene – a prologue, then I go into the poem.

I hope that you like it.

“Shaken, not stirred”
By Tyrone Turner
Copyright 2012
All rights reserved.

__________________________________________________

Prologue…

What a beautiful night!

Your sister was baby-sitting the kids at her house and we were free to act-a-fool!

Dinner was great and hanging at the lounge was on and poppin’.

On our way to the lounge, we agreed to pretend we were strangers.

My name would be Malcolm and your name would be Laura.

You went in the lounge ahead of me and sat at the bar.

When I arrived, men were swarming around you.

You were a queen bee with that honey-tone skin of yours draped in that yellow dress.

I stood next to you and smiled. You said “Hello.” I introduced myself as Malcolm and you said that you were Laura.

You offered me drink. I asked for a Jack & Coke and you ordered yourself an Apple Martini.

We chatted about career and current events then we made our way over to the more comfortable sofas in the back.

Your alter-ego, Laura, was an interesting lady. A retired Army Drill Instructor, divorced mother of two teen-aged children.

I told you I was a financial planner, specializing in disability and long-term care planning. Never been married and no kids.

We got drunker and drunker, as we continued to order more rounds of drinks.

After about four rounds of drinks and lively conversation. You said to me, “Listen up, soldier. You talk too much and you must learn to see and seize opportunities when they present themselves. I’m giving you a mission. Take me back to your place and bang me out. That is an order!”

We got in a cab and fingered and tugged on each other.

We groped each other all the way upstairs.

You ran toward the bathroom and pulled me along with you.

I asked you, How do you want me to give it to you, baby?

You said, I want it hard and rough. Give it to me the way me and James Bond, Agent 007 order our martinis – shaken, not stirred!

Poem…

We took a shower together so we’d be fresh and clean after the night we had out on the town.

We both used perfumed shower gels so we’d both smell sweet as it was about to go down.

You got out of the shower without even drying off – you were soaking wet.

Your body glistened in the hallway lights and I was so excited about that ‘thang’ I was about to get.

I got out of the shower dripping wet too and followed your footprints on the carpet to the bedroom.

The closer I got I heard the melody of a familiar tune.

It was Maxwell crooning the lyrics to his hit song, Bad Habits – that’s my jam!

Baby, you are my habit and I got it bad. You’re my lady and I’m your man.

You pull back the sheets and lie down on your belly then you told me to take you where you need to be.

I certainly will, but I’m going with you. You’re not leaving me.

We oftentimes arrive at our pleasurable destination together. Both trembling, sweating, and gasping for air.

We are perfect dance partners. Like Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire.

We’re Ja Rule and Ashanti, Always on Time.

Michael McDonald & the Doobie Brothers sang, You Belong to Me and you should know that you own this heart of mine.

I crawl into the bed next to you and start rubbing that beautiful back of yours.

It is time to go to work and when you are the task to be tended to, I love doing my chores.

I roll on top of you as you lie on your belly and start licking your back.

You start moaning and panting as your back is a hot spot and after a few moments I know that it is time to attack.

I palm your plump buttocks and slide my hands down your thighs, part your legs, and penetrate you deeply from behind.

As it gets hotter and heavier I grab you gently by the chin and you told me that the coochie was all mine.

I rub and spank your bottom in a broken rhythm and you start screaming in pleasure and muttering curse words here and there and in between.

You said that you were about to pop and that it was going to be ‘mean.”

You really started to put the squeeze on my love tool and it was already dripping pearl drops and the tip was getting fatter.

I knew that it wouldn’t be long before there was an explosion of baby batter.

You started to flail your arms, grabbed my hand and pulled me close so that I fell on top of you so between us there was no space.

You twisted your body around slightly so we could see each other face to face.

You started trembling then electricity shot through my body.

We both had arrived and saw the fireworks go off from our party.

We both lie here silent. Only heavy breathing to be heard.

You said to me, “Thanks, bartender. That was a hard, stiff drink that was for sure shaken, not stirred.”

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