Thursday, June 25, 2009

While You Were Gone....

A Man Stopped By,

Broad Shoulders defined without reference

Adorned in Pinstripes that had a stringent Geometry

His tone, a chained banality

of rehearsed mistakes and familiarity,

He left a pamphlet folded with great compulsion,

I knew he'd be back....

1:35 Am 6/25/09

Engravings... (#%&*&*9^)

I'm Random
Like Shows Starting at 6:37 Sharp
(Eastern Time)
My Train Of Thoughts' Schedule
Is Written in Crayon.
That's The Only Way
To Arrive At Such Colorful
I'm Usually Able
To Have My Cake
And Eat it Too!
I guess That Makes Me
One Smart Cookie!!
Or One Who Visits Bakeries
Too Often

1:15 Am 6/25/09

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Bizzaro (Poem)

(I wrote this piece for a Kwanzaa celebration back in 2006. Each performer was giving the task to create a poem that demonstrated one of the seven principles of Kwanzaa. I was given Ujima which means collective work and responsibility.)

Discretion memory at lit incense Sensed
Are we what to pretense A
Visions translucent is were we what for
Spells Dry quench to palms into soul out Pour
Acts Misguided in cast being from Sour
Place a without countenance, face out with eyes
Race a without those
Castaways on rely people jettisoned
Deaf the leading blind the like is
Mute the with speak to

(Wait) !!!!!

Dosage of Collectivity helps us move forward
Toward self responsibility
Ability to add clarity to the absurd
And Make sense of what is backwards

(Now) ...

Sensed incense lit at memory discretion
A pretense to what we are...
For what we were is chronicled in translucent visions
Pour out soul into palms to quench dry spells
Sour from being cast in misguided acts
Eyes with out face, countenance without a place
Those without a race,
Jettisoned people rely on castaways
Is like the blind leading the deaf
To speak with the mute...
A saccharin Unity, only sweat to those
Who taste defeat.A last meal I'll
Avoid if hunger pains remind me
That Our tradition of perdition is divine
Park Bench Abstractions is mere distractions
To Goals at Hand, wrapped around fingers
To Chop off headlines does not mean
That Body of evidence will not prove
Whose Guilty amongst innocent
Rather languid liaisons refuse
To translate the look of love
To Those who look away to Dixie land
Blindsided on straightaways
Graffiti On our Train of Thought
Is no different than specific Hieroglyphics
Remember Snow Whites Black Tops Crush
For Diamonds blanketed in molasses Fair

Cape and Cowl (Poem)

(Round 1 of An Old Rivalry)


Time to Embarrass a Wayne in a Manor (Manner)

That Befits he wears a mask

Two Faced My Letters

And Realize they were out numbered

With Utility, He Belts another Opus

Waiting for a signal that is as bright

As his concepts (Change The Bulb)

That idea is cracked like Jokers who inhale

Fumes from Smoking Aces

A second hand may be needed to hold fast

From Tripping Over Caped Fear

Still Trying to Fly (Eye C.)

Does Descents in Caves Reveal

You revel in plights of Morlocks?

Unlock with strands of Locks

Of Props for verbally weaponry

I have confiscated your armory

Tips are Rusted, Lance is Broken

In Bouts that are wasted in a one sided Verbal Joust

Perhaps If You trace over my S, you find strength

In my letters to draw to the conclusion

That My Impregnated Thoughts ..Kicks at Sides

While you look on the side for kicks

Whose lifespan is as long as your sidekicks

Sigh...Clips your wings as a new souvenir...

Bale (Bail) Out Now before you Begin...

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Invisible Woman (Ellison's Kin)

8 moons ago we shared

7 sun-Sets….

6 candles lit

5 course meals

4 ever

3 of a kind, through a trinity of expectations

….2 share 1 love

Splitting Headache (Poem)

Autograph Prescriptions,

I never could read their writing

(1/2) of their spiel cuts into my life lines

I’ll place them over the counter

To counter the temptation to count her

She outnumbers the population of a Prozac Nation

Their anthem pierces (4) Lobes at the sound of

Mumbling Morphine to curb Pain Seduced Stability

(8th) of the change acquired

By a 16 Year old running from chasers

Of (32) Milligrams and 64 Proof

That life does not turn on the (1) and (2)s,

(8) Measures is just about Infinity

Short of Heavens Height even

Finger Popping Pills to

Emphasize Drugged Points

Out of House of Ideas won’t lessen the pace

Of the gain of Migraine that stands out

Like a Rose in miles of Amber Grain

A thorn at my Pride makes this fall

That much more grounded

Instead I raised 2 (Fives) and a (six) year old

Ideas in Mars’ Backyard

So their altitude won’t come to a head.

Ached With Throbs of Entrapped Thoughts

Let Them Out….

No! Grudge Matches their Intensity

But I still Pin Lines against The Walls

Of this Parchment


Nostalgia (Poem)


A delicate frame pictures me distorted through

A mirror image that reflects the past is presently waiting for me

Seen through double plated glass that means twice the distance

Why can't this tiny dancer preform on my stage?
For a party of one still lights two candles
Even though her flame went out years ago
Gawkers pulled the curtain that wasn't ready to call
Still sore from their bad reviews
Viewed through irises that have seen too much

So I stand in this crawl space reserved for none

And Occupy isolation's gateway
Accompanied with a repeated act

That 4 stars can't shine light on
You should be with ,instead of in me
Released through pros or silhouettes
That outline a script Ive read yesterday six years from now
Smeared on my stanzas that will always be tainted with your residue

I'll get a clue, when they prescribe it...
Until then, I think I'll cut the grass in a paradise lost... (set a blaze)...

(March 9, 2006) 2:14 am

Prelude (Poem)

Starting From Scratch....paper
Drawing New Conclusions and Inspirations
Without a trace of penetrating outlines
So I out line a new scope with strands
Of Sketches and shades of schizophrenic
Hues… In light of dark episodes
Syndicated for one’s amusement
Channeled through a makeshift conduit
Of Shattered Expectations Swept
Under the rug in the room of improvement,
I slept on its floor to stay grounded,
Painting my ceiling transparent so the sky can be my limit……

Those willing to be born again must undergo two deaths…….
One down….Life To Go……



So I've decided to fold under the peer pressure and create my own blog! Therefore, I officially welcome you the CogNegro’s Corner. Here you will find my spilled, unfiltered thoughts that hopefully will be pleasing to your pallet. The entries will include my personal feelings on life be it in the forms of poetry, contemporary commentaries, or just outright carefully crafted babbling. So now that the grandiose introduction is out of the way, let’s get to the art…

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