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lyrics

Loving kisses and loving sighs. To have love’s pleasure bring tears to my eyes. Love at first sight is so very rare. Love may come late but it always comes fair. Tears that humble. Tears that smile. Tears that comfort and then beguile. Where are the drugs? Where is the sex? Where is the pleasure when there’s nothing next? Some love to love. Some love to hate. Some find love but then it’s too late… Games and lies where love should be. Someone does it to you and then you do it to me. Perversions, distortions inside the head. When illusion dictates love is dead. Love is not paranoia, love in not insecure. When a man becomes a friend is when a women becomes sure. Love in the touch of a woman’s hand, the respect for that touch is what makes a man. The thought of love on its way to you. The anticipation of what to do. That funny little feeling that comes inside. Emotions run wild but then try to hide. Is she coming or is she not. Affection needs tenderness and they both need a lot. Why is it so hard to be at ease. Why can’t I be humble and just try to please. Selfish desires that lead into doubt. Sacrifice brings joy but love brings you out. Soft morning clouds rush to cover the Moon, like an orgasm with a future that comes too soon. So when the thought of quitting begins to lose your mind, put love before pain and leave the sorrow behind.
One night I was truly seeking, I was standing inside the rain. As love passed by it whispered, time to leave the pain. I’m here whenever you need me, I am the beckoning call. I can be your rise to glory or the Madness before the fall. I cried out, Love what do you want from me? You’ve got to tell me now. Love just smiled and answered, must I also tell you how. To find that love again, the love you needed most, The only friend you had when everyone was playing ghost. Two star-crossed lovers caught up in that infamous strain. Love becomes the struggle that tries to keep them sane. In the glorious midst of nature, they try reaching out one night. She learns how to kiss the darkness, he learns how to set his sight, Love becomes the morning that shines so radiant and bright, it becomes the hope and promise that once was a lonely night. Where is that true beginning? Where has it all gone? Why has love become a memory that just sadly lingers on.
Hard laughter disguising softer fears. Love becomes entangled while deception cheers. Love that moment you can’t understand. It’s when love is asking for a helping hand. Intelligence is vital, love takes reason. Passion without wisdom is romantic treason. Love is the rain that greens the leaves, it’s the part of death that never grieves. The love of money cane become the love of greed. The love of denial can become the love of need. Love is a women to deep in thought. A moment so precious it can’t be bought. That first kiss will always remain the same, if not in principle at least in name. Love is exciting. Love is bold. Love grows gracefully but never grows old. Love is being alone but never lonely. It’s your truly and yours only. It’s when you think you should but you know you won’t. It’s when they think you’re convinced but then you don’t. Love plus patience can become understanding. When love becomes too promiscuous it becomes too demanding. Waiting on love can become the love of time. Being impatient with love can lead to serious crime. Love is to be considerate. Love is to be kind. It’s a wise old gesture from a childish mind. To never take advantage. To never accuse. To never mistrust. To never abuse. Love is to be honored. Love is to be shared. Love is to be tried but never dared. Love is to desire. Love is to yearn. To be able to give and ask for nothing in return. And then to be able to speak words so true, I love you… and I love you too!

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from Transcending Toxic Times, released May 10, 2019

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The Last Poets New York, New York

This Wind You Hear Is The Birth Of Memory. When The Moment Hatches In Time’s Womb, There Will Be No Art Talk. The Only Poem You Will Hear Will Be The Spear Point Pivoted Into The Punctured Marrow Of The Villain, And The Timeless Native Son Dancing Like Crazy To Retrieved Rhythms Of Desire Faded Into Memory. Therefore, We Are The Last Poets Of The World. ... more

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