Women

"Contemporary French feminist Luce Irigaray has suggested, the act of writing remains attached to the expression and manifestation of woman's many desires. Irigaray like Cixous, invites woman to explore her sexuality as "plural' and located "everywhere" so that she may release herself and her many selves from a system that objectifies woman as exual and lingustic commodities fixed, written about , and traded among men. "

Looking For Love In Paris

He saw me sitting and gazing out the window on the night train to Paris. “He must be exceptional,” he said, “for you to think deeply and intensely about him .”I laughed, and as I was about to speak, he said, “you don’t have to tell me you have a boyfriend. I know you do.” I laughed again. “Hi,” he said, “my name is Ade .”“Hi,” I said back, “my name is Lola. I’m guessing we are both of Nigerian descent.” “Yeah,” he said. “Can I sit?” he asked; I nodded and gestured with my hand that he could sit. Then we began talking about everything from family to work to education and the weary state of our home country. Next, he began to talk about love, and my face dropped; I hate talking about love. How that topic depresses me. He told me the story of a young French lady he had fallen in love with. She was fair and slender, with thin pink lips and long black hair. She was the most beautiful girl, and her beauty was a manifestation of the gods. He compared her beauty to the goddess Aphrodite, daughter of Zeus, and Dione, the roman goddess of glory, love, beauty, and sexuality. He loved her, OH how he loved her, but alas, her family would never agree for her to marry anyone, but a French man talks less of a black African man. He was so in love with her that only eight months after dating, he proposed to her at the famous Tuileries Garden in Paris. “I was so in love with her,” he said, looking out the window, but the night before they eloped, she sent him a letter saying she couldn’t go through with it. She couldn’t betray her family name and legacy. His eyes became teary, and his face very blue. He turned to me and said, “have you ever been in love?” I was silent, and he asked again, “have you ever been in love,” I laughed, and when I could laugh no more, I said, “no,” and shed a tear. “I have never been in love.” At first, he looked at me in disbelief, then with pity, he felt so sorry for me, and he said so. “Though I have been heartbroken, I have been in love, and it was one of the most beautiful things I ever experienced,” he told me. Then I cried, a cloud of sadness began to rain over me, and despair took over my soul. I told him I was going to Paris on holiday, but I was really going to look for love in Paris. He laughed, and then I joined him. “I’m so silly,” I said. He answered, “no, you are not,” you are a risk-taker and brave. I asked him if he would search for his fair skin lady to rekindle their romance, and he answered, “no, I’m also going to find love again.” I laughed, and so did he, and we continued our conversation into Paris and longer, and that is how I met him, how I met my husband on the night train to Paris. Looking for love in Paris

Shade´

Shade´

Shade´

It is the way every man stops

 and stares as she walks

the way her ever evolving

hips sway to the right and

the left and her butt jiggles

to the stamp and stomping

of her feet as she moves

shade´

it is the way everyman moves

forward to the edge of their seat

when she begins to talk as

the sweet melody of her voice

soothes their ears and as her

words reveal knowledge

shade’

it is the way every man looks

deeply at her when she smiles

or as her brown eyes squint

as she laughs or how she

seductively moves her hand

across her laps summoning

you to take a look at the forbidden

shade´

it is the  way she  tucks

her hair behind her ear

signaling that, that is her

most sensitive spot or

how she licks and smacks

her lips telling you how

soft, tender and juicy it is

or is it the way  she slightly

touches you, your fingers

saying  I'll give you a little

feel of how sensitive my skin is

shade´

young, innocent, seductive

evil fucking bitch who's 

purpose on this earth is

to bring men to their knees

the lovepoet

RIP Maya Angelou

DEEP

She has me in deep

Swimming the ocean waves

Diving deeper and deeper

Gabriel got me deep

Swimming for my life

As I begin to drown

In her love, her soul

Gabriel got me deep

Searching for her treasures

The root of her thoughts

Deep, she got me deep

Lost in  the vast blue

Ocean that is her mind

Gabriel got me  deep

                                      the lovepoet

(inspired by Tay's Gabriel ft Sute, Bantu Collectives - https://soundcloud.com/bantucollective)

Graduation

These African Men

These African men

They are the reason why

When we wake up the first

Thing we think about is how
we look. they are why we have 
every victoria secret lotion and 
body splash from pure seduction to

sweet temptation and love spell

they are the reason we have tried

 every make up brand, from MAC,

to black up and Sephora

they are the reason why my dress

is fitted today, loose tomorrow, low

in front the next day and showing off

my back next week

They are the reason why I sit right,

Talk right and walk like Alek Wek in

These painful ass loubs, cause you know

That I know they are not so comfortable

They are the reason why, my polish friend

Is learning how to make jollof rice, yes

Both Nigerian and Ghanaian style

Why my American friend is learning

Swahili ,  faking a South African accent

And wants to travel to  Central Africa

Because of the “D”  that African “D”

Cause you see, you can never go wrong

With the African “D”, that very deep, thick

Ass, long ass chocolate bar, then again it

Can be caramel, in between

Their legs that drives every

Type of woman in this world crazy

That chocolate bar  that’s

Taste so good better yet

Feels so right in you

These African men

What will we do without them

IN HIS ARMS

This morning I woke up in my lover's arms

My head on his chest

His hand on my backside

Yes I woke up in my husband's arms

His chin resting on my hair

My  right hand wrapped around him    
                                                             

I woke up in my best friends arms

My legs in between his

Intertwined we were

 Yes this morning I woke up in the arms of the man I love

the lovepoet