POEM OF THE DAY - The Night of the Chocolate Sun

To my mature sisters (I call you seasoned) reading this, know your self worth.  Know that life truly begins after 30 and know that for the rest of your life, you are desired, wanted and beautiful.  This is for you:

The Night of the Chocolate Sun

He was the sweetest thing

she’d ever seen

jet black with pearl white teeth

just barely twenty three

eye lashes like Marabou fans

with braids like silken woven wool

a mole right under his left cheek

the body of a god

His skin glistened from the fusion

of hot water and baby oil

sweet, coy and bashful he was

but as aggressive as a panther in bed

surges of electricity eluded from his underwear

his lightning bolt raging

to strike in her womb

making her feel

alive

yet more alive

with every passing second

in what seemed like a binary moment

from a broken hourglass

he had delicately commandeered his manhood

inside her sacred temple 

and with the oddest bit of curiosity asked,

a question never reserved for a true woman

of hidden candor

he whispered in her ear

while his warm breath

massaged her lobe, taking her mind to a place

far from home

“Ma’am, how old are you?”

So without hesitation, she screamed, “ 46”

And through his thrusts, he replied,

“You are every young man’s fantasy

and every older man’s dream.”

It was at that very moment and all of 20

years of thinking she was a true woman, the sun came

and kissed her…just her

beaming through the ceiling above them

warming her deepest and softest vulnerabilities

to confirm that now she was more than

just a woman,

she  was alive,

she was  treasured

she was desired,

she was beautiful…

still beautiful

with her voice trembling and tears

rolling to the nape of her neck,

she screamed at him to say it once more.

And through his thrusts, he replied,

“You are every young man’s fantasy

and every older man’s dream” .

the sun continued to shine

for hours,

well into days

then weeks

and after countless years

of never setting suns

she contends and wears well, but with decent humility

that she is still and will always remain,

every young man’s fantasy

and every older man’s dream

WYLD STYLZ 

POEM OF THE DAY - Me and God

Me and God



See, me and God had a talk last night
I told him of all things going good
and of things that weren’t quite right

I told him of all my unclean deeds
and all my future plans
He said, “I feel you on that my child,
but just put it in my hands”

When I felt His spirit shine on me
I gave the biggest smile
Then I heard God say to me
“But we haven’t talked in a while”

I said, “God I’ve been real busy
with this chick I’m hollering at.”
You see that’s how I talk to God
because God is cool like that.

I said that I’d been working this job
and hanging out at times
and that since I wanted to be a rapper
I was tightening up my rhymes.

I told Him that I often think of Him
and watch Olseen when I could,
but life can be so very hectic
for a brother in the hood.

I got to pay this child support
so I stays up on my grind.
God you know what they do to you
when you mess up and fall behind.

And I’ve been trying to keep it real with Moms
cause she always getting drunk
and hustlin’ here and there when I can,
because God, I ain’t no punk.

So God, don’t take it personal
I love taking to you.
It’s just that I have so many things
to try and get to do.

God said, “Stop for a second my precious son.
I have anointed thee
I have kept you safe in every way
from things you could not see.

This course alone is not yours to run
I’ll lead you to a life anew.
Just keep your eyes on me my child
I’ll take care of mama too.

I know that temptations of the world
can pull you from your place
but a balance of all things worldy
can help you win this race.”

I said, “But God you really don’t understand.”
God said, “Come on now, I made you man.”
I said, “God I’m young, not yet in my prime.”
God said, “Just acknowledge me, give me some time.”

I said, “ Well God how much time do you require.”
God said, “A lifetime, a month, a day or an hour.”
I said, “But God what about the drugs that I do.”
God said, “You think I haven’t been watching you?”

I said, “It helps me get back into my groove.”
God said, “If you want me to, the urge, I’ll remove.”
I said, “Hold on God, one thing at a time.”
God said, “Whenever you’re ready for me is fine.”

I said, “ Alright God, if I mess up will you love me still”
God said, I always have my child and I always will.”



Yeah, me and God had a talk last night.



WYLD STYLZ

POEM OF THE DAY - "Even in the Rain"

(This is especially for you. Enjoy!)

Even in the Rain

I drove past a man one day

who was dancing in the rain.

The first thought that occurred to me

was that this brother was insane.

I thought I heard him holler “thank you”

so I drove closer just to hear it.

Man, this brother was getting his praise on

by dancing in the spirit.

So I parked my truck along the curb

and started getting mine.

We danced and sang and gave God the praise

until the sun began to shine.

I learned that day that in victory

and even through the pain,

give God the glory and the praise

yes, even in the rain.

WYLD STYLZ

POEM OF THE DAY - "Welcome To The WYLD Side"

Today, I turned 42 years old. I feel the need to be liberated. I am liberating myself by writing a poem that is a bit more edgy than most of the things I write. So, without excuse, here it is:

Welcome to the WYLD side

I am an engine roaring, revving, deafening you

the bass that throbs in your heart

the last puff taken hard, wanting more

the beast that tears you apart

I am the cover model, male lover

the thing that goes bumps in the night

the world’s greatest thrill ride

a one man riot only I can incite

I am the roulette wheels loose screw

the Holy Ghosts example

a growling dog’s breaking point

the squeal from a wood rat trample

I am the snake bite venom

and the decomposing flesh

I am ice shock to afterlife

a mentor to David Koresh

I am the non-believer to all things physical

yet privy to them all

the blood stains on yellow t-shirts

the ghost shadow down the hall

I am the needle that summons you

the drug you crave the most

the constant confusion inside your head

an alligator’s bed host

I am the one most likely to fuck and leave

and keep you at my will

and tell you, “you were just a fling"

yet leave you smiling still

I am hot iron branded Luke

and tattoos in private places

cock rings and scrotum piercings

cum drops on pretty faces

I am hot piss on back porches

and shit behind pine trees

I am the one that farts in Devil’s face

and brings him to his knees

I am the roll out on 22’s

the shot from a .45

the rocking car down city streets

as I masturbate and drive

I am 10 cups of black coffee

and a whore-ish witches brew

I am the reality of your nightmares

so be careful what you do

I am all night parties with nobody's

and tongue kisses on ecstasy

I am a food stamp selling money maker

and coke with Hennessey

I am rolling dice with rock and roll

and pee in swimming pools

I set the standard for being WYLD

but learn from other fools

I am prayer candles and amulets

charms and wiccan spells

I love caviar and fine champagne

but stay in cheap hotels

So if after reading what you’ve just read

you still wanna take this ride

then buckle up and hold your shit

and welcome to the WYLD side!

WYLD STYLZ

POEM OF THE DAY - "Hallelujah"

Did you know that Hallelujah is the greatest form of praise to God? Did you know that the word Hallelujah occurring in Psalms is a Hebrew request for a congregation to join in praise? It can be translated as "Praise Yah, you people", and is usually worded in English contexts as "Praise ye the Lord" or "Praise the Lord". This is not a direct translation, as Yah represents the first two letters of YHWH, the Hebrew personal name for God, and not the title "lord". Did you know that in the Hebrew Bible, Hallelujah is actually a two-word phrase, not one word? Hallelu: joyous praise, to boast in God, or to act madly or foolishly (Hebrew translation) and Yah: God (Hebrew translation). Now you know.


Hallelujah!

Become amassed with power
overwhelmed by the thought of freedom
inhaling the good
as the light surrounds you
then leads you to higher ground.
There you will find your new self
stronger, richer, wiser
and worthy.
Sup at the table of abundance
and enjoy with sanction
from the spirit of generosity
and then give without limits
humbly, wholly and
anonymously.
Allow love to live
self to die
and acceptance to thrive
in your character that precedes
who you are
for people unguided,
misguided and disguised.
Raise your hands in praise,
close your eyes
and turn your head
to the bitter days when you
fed the mouth of the adversary
that tried to imprison
the person that you’ve become.
Hallelujah!
There are greater works yet undone.
Hallelujah!

WYLD STYLZ

POEM OF THE DAY - "VISIONARY"

I don't tell this story about this poem often because sometimes it just sounds to much like make believe but here it is. One night while I was asleep, I had a dream that I was reciting a poem and right after I recited it, I woke up and was still reciting the poem to myself. It had to have been about 3:00 a.m. so I jumped out of bed and wrote the poem down. It was the exact last entry to my book. Here it is:

Visionary

Upon closing my eyes at night
I see wonderful things.
I see marvelous places,
beautiful skies,
beautiful faces.
The visions are played like a film in my head.
Pictures of people,
some living,
some dead.
Pictures of times
some gone,
some to come.
The beginnings for many,
the end for some.
I can always remember the things I’ve seen
the fire,
the snow,
the valley’s green.
The visions are played like a film in my head
A gift from God?
A message to spread?
Fathers crying
and children at play
old people laughing,
the world in dismay.
If only you knew of the things I’ve seen
some visions violent
others serene.
Some of horrendous
wars to be,
some of Sudan
being set free.
Visions of disease
as a thing of the past
or terrorist killing us
in one last blast.
It’s hard to describe the things that I’ve seen
as these visions
play their nightly routine.
Invading my mind
capturing time
was a vision of a world
with no death or crime.
Visions of addicts
giving up dope
and some of preachers
giving up hope.
One vision I love time after time
that reinforcement is brought
to the fibers that bind
and the thread that make up
all of mankind.

WYLD STYLZ

POEM OF THE DAY - "Genesis Jones"

Genesis Jones

Genesis Jones got married
to the man of her dreams.
In the beginning it as good
or just so it seemed.
Lionel was his name
violence was his game.
Genesis had no clue
that what she was about to do
would be the beginning
of their new universe
when her new husband
came home and said,
“I’m bout to whip your ass just because I can”.
So he swung and missed.
Genesis got pissed.
Lionel kissed
Genesis’ clenched fist
and his world began to form:

And on that night, she said, “I am going to whip your ass just for trying to whip my ass”. And she did just that.

On the second night, she said, “Now I am going to whip your ass for just letting me, a woman, whip your ass”. And she did just that.

On the third night, she said, “Now I am going to whip your ass for not being able to whip my ass”. And she did just that.

On the fourth night, she said, “Now I am going to whip your ass for being stupid enough to stay around the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd nights and getting your ass whipped”. And she did just that.

On the fifth night, she said, “Now I am going to whip your ass because I am so tired from whipping your ass for four nights straight. I am a woman and have too many other things to do”. And she did just that.

On the sixth night, she said, “Now I am going to whip your ass because I am so mad at myself for getting involved with a sorry ass, son of a bitch that would stoop low enough to put his hands on a woman”. And she did just that, right before she threw him out.

On the seventh night, she rested peacefully.

The display of domestic violence is a sorry excuse for the problems that exists within ones self. Brothers let’s come together to stop violence against women not only in our homes but in our society as well. The degradation and objectification of women in our communities has become an epidemic and an overwhelming issue that only we can address and correct. So before the next time you think of putting your hands on a woman, know this:

That every 9 seconds, a woman is battered in the U.S.
Each day, 4 women are murdered by their husbands or boyfriends
Domestic violence is a single major cause of injury to women, more than muggings and car accidents combined.
90% of battered women reported that their children were present when the abuse occurred.
70% of men who batter their partners either sexually or physically abuse their children.
60% of battered women are beaten while they are pregnant.
Domestic violence costs $1.4 billion annually in medical expenses.

Now if you can still be with him, maybe that’s what you like.


WYLD STYLZ

POEM OF THE DAY - "Last Words"

This poem is another one from my last book. It is so pertinent because from experience, I see so many blessed people always talking about what they have, what they're going to get, who gave them what, etc., but so few of them saying, what God has blessed them with. I cannot say that I am not guilty myself at one point or another and am certainly not throwing stones from a glass house, but such is reality and life. This is for your entertainment and written to provoke thought.

Last Words

Oh Lord, catch them if they fall.
Oh Lord, push them if they stall.
Oh Lord, hear them if they call.
Oh Lord, bless them with their all
and forgive them if they give you nothing in return.

WYLD STYLZ

POEM OF THE DAY - "Kocktail"

I was feel a little frisky one day, years ago when I wrote this one (LOL). It really wasn't my style but I thought it would expand my horizons as a writer. I do hope it makes you feel as frisky as I did (wink).


Kocktail

Look in my eyes, like stars glancing, baby.
You’ve got my heart, like a pony prancing baby.
And I’m digging like mole
to get to the depths of your soul
cause you’re the rhythm that makes me whole
my willingness you stole
my hand I gave
your passion I crave
to be drunk in the nakedness of your submission.

Given the chance, I’ll please like I’m crazy, baby.
I want to sop up your love like gravy, baby.
And like Papa's rolling stone,
Can I rest my love and make your heart my home?
My inhibitions are gone
and my bird has turned stone.
So if you ask me I would
let me put on my hood
cause your love is like rum
and baby, that’s all good.

Go ahead, get me drunk in the nakedness of your
submission.

WYLD STYLZ

Question

Q. What do you call a woman that can keep it together, hold it down, make it happen, work it out, pull it through, utilize, multiply and still always smell good?

A. A Mother

POEM OF THE DAY - "Lost Father"

So this weekend, we celebrate fathers, right? This poem is about a father/son relationship that in the end, may not be the happy ending most people desire, but it speaks volumes to boys and men around the world who as children longed for their fathers. In my case, it was what it was. The journey that God had me on didn't include my biological father but He (God) put men (real men) in my life that set examples for me of what real men were. They helped nurture me, guided me, chastised me, and taught my how to conduct myself in public, in the presence of women and my elders. They taught me that respect was more than a word, it was an action and in order to get it, you had to give it....but to never automatically expect it. They taught me that being a man meant more than, dick or driving a Cadillac, more than fighting or pissing behind a tree. I learned about how to take care of the sick, how to feed a stray dog and how to stretch a dollar. I learned how to cut my own grass and take out a little time to cut my neighbors too or to say a kind word to the brother that was down on his luck and then give him a swig from the flask tucked away in your coat pocket. I learned how to fix a flat and build a dog house, but most importantly, stand up for what I believed in and never be to proud to say, I am sorry. They taught me how to pray and cry out to God but at the same time, hold back tears in an attempt to look strong for others who needed your strength. I learned how to hug another man without feeling or looking, "soft". I ultimately learned that no matter how strong or invincible you may seem, we all grow old and at one point in our lives, will have to depend on someone else to help us make it from day to day and then, in the end, we die and leave this earth in hopes that something we did, "right" stays in the heart of some young man we leave behind.

Wow, God is good and while on this Fathers day, I can't say that I am going all out for my old man. But I do thank God that he is alive and healthy and hope that he finds that much needed inner peace concerning his relationship with his children because I sure haven't. Read with a grain of salt...


Lost Father

Alas, my long-lost father to me has returned
to tell me of things I’d already learned.
I opened the door and welcomed him in
to sit and tell of where he had been.
I showed no emotion, not even a smile,
he started to cry and stare for a while.
He looked me down from my head to my feet,
placed his hand on my shoulder in a manner so sweet.
Looked me in my eyes and proceeded to say,
“Son, let me tell you why I went away.”
Before he could start, I cut in with haste
but choked at the startled look on his face.
“I know who you are and I know where you’ve been
so I won’t start with remembering when
as a child the wonderful things that I missed
as other boys played football, kited and fished
with their fathers who loved them enough to stay,
to lead, protect and show them the way.
Taught them to love, respect and then
showed them how to become real men.
Who was there on graduation day?
Just my mama, but that’s O.K.
I always felt that it was a shame
that you weren’t around but I carried your name.
Dear sir, you see now I’m 40 years old
but remember as a child the truth was then told
of the real reason you chose to walk away
and why you have come to my door today.
You felt the need to stray for a while
while my mother was carrying an unborn child.
Even the reality of the story was whack,
mother always said one day you’d come back.
So now that you’re old and alone
you need a place that you can call home.
But I’m sorry, my friend, my home is full
with the love that you left … and that’s no bull.
I haven’t yet learned just how to forgive
you for the life that you chose to live.
I’ll ask you to leave now to close my door
to my home and my heart to hurt no more.”
As he turned in anguish and walked away
I knew I would regret what I did that day.
So then, about a week after my deed,
I pulled out my morning paper to read.
Just curious to know of who had passed
I saved the death section to look through last.
When I turned the page, I froze in time
and stared in eyes that were just like mine.
I felt the hurt, I carried the shame
but managed to notice they misspelled his name.
Canyou is spelled with a capital “C”,
last name, F-O-R-G-I-V-M-E.
I sat in this horror and for hours I cried
that alas, my long-lost father had died.

WYLD STYLZ

POEM OF THE DAY - "Wide-Eyed at Dawn"

Wide-Eyed at Dawn

Translucent images on the walls of my eyes
that sometimes make me cry.
I’m afraid to go to sleep at night
I think I just might die.
A heavy load these lids of mine
a burden on my brain.
The thoughts of dying in my sleep
are driving me insane.
A caffeine pill, a loud TV and an empty coffee cup,
mercy if I close these eyes of mine
I just might not wake up.

WYLD STYLZ

Poem of the day - "I'm In The Mood For Blues"

This one goes out to Koko y'all. I remember writing this poem years ago after my mother properly introduced me to the blues thus causing me to fell in love with them. Blues is an original American art form and true American music. Born in the deep south and out of slavery, the sister to the negro spiritual, blues is now on the threshold of being taken from us and being intentionally re-evolved into another genre, catering to an entirely different group of people.


I’m in the Mood for Blues

Don’t jive me ’bout no country
or no heavy rockin’ tunes.
Today I want to cry a little,
I’m in the mood for blues.

Don’t want no pastel jazz
or pop with colored hues.
Today I need some somber soul,
I’m in the mood for blues.

A blue Monday fish fry
with a little gumbo too
and a screamin’ guitar player
to get you feeling blue.

Boy, talk about good times,
no songs touch minds like these.
When you’re singing from your soul
while cryin’ on your knees.

Forget a cab or city bus
I’d walk a hole in my shoes
to get to a good juke joint
where someone’s playin’ blues.

Round ’bout six up in the evening,
ain’t got no time for news.
I just bought me a new funk box
and I’m ’bout to play some blues.

So come on over and sit a while
and pay Mr. Pain your dues.
Just close your eyes and sway your head
and listen to my blues.

WYLD STYLZ

Poem of the Day - "The Looking Glass"

I just felt that someone needed to read this today:


The Looking Glass

When you gaze into the looking glass
what do you see?
The person that you are
or the one you want to be?

Can you look in your eyes and smile?
Can you stare in your face a while
without shedding salty tears?
But what’s so bad about it
it that you’ve been this way for years.

If you read your mind to find
your destiny was gloom,
would you drop your looking glass
and run in the other room?

Only to find out that you were followed
by yourself and you were out to kill.
How does this make you feel?

Your self has the looking glass
and puts it to your face.
Are you disgusting to the human race?

Who do you want to be?
A slave to yourself or
a role model for me?

Then break the looking glass
and set yourself free.

WYLD STYLZ

POEM OF THE DAY - "Sexual Division" (Expose)

This poem was written a few years back when I learned of the dealings of a friend who was leading a lifestyle people called "whorish". Today we call it "promiscuous". Either way, I think many of us have dealt with it in one way or another and would always second guess our escapades if we didn't feel quite comfortable after it was over. Enjoy

Sensual Division (Exposé)

Stand at love’s door
and knock
but beware if lust answers
with its icy blue face and candy red lips
sporting a look of death.
Welcoming you in to sit and
comfort you with warm hands
that soothe your lonesome spirit,
nurture your weakness
and minister to your manhood.

It bolts the door to life and
makes you its hostage.
It causes your senses to tingle
with the effervescence of promiscuity,
and your mind to play in harm’s way
and your nature to rise.

Urging you to become its
loyal servant
while love, the fool
watches from the open window.

The swiftness of lust proves king.
Love, the fool, too slow,
leaving you with no time to wait.
The wrath of lust’s power
drenches the wholeness from you
like the life from flowers.
Blowing its cool breath in your lungs,
its icy grim of reality from your memory
then leaving you in bed
alone
as love watches from the open window
not allowed to inhibit
your fantasy
that came to you like bees to a hive
and caused chaos to your very aura.

The inexplicable sensuality has
grasped your heart with a tight hold
killing love
and bringing misery to your
very existence
while love comforts
your essential self as it cries
from the other side of the open window.

WYLD STYLZ

POEM OF THE DAY - "Southern Comfort"

The following poem was actually based on an experience I had many years ago after moving to Houston. I was invited to a friend of a friends house for dinner. This guy drove a top of the line sports car, always smelled like the men's cologne fragrance counter at Saks and dressed in the best name brand fashions you could buy at that time. Now, I had never been to his house before, but assumed that he lived large because of how he presented himself. However when I got to his house, noting could have been further from the truth. He lived in a run down mobile home (and there is nothing wrong with that) that seemed like he had not cleaned it since birth! He was so accommodating though, offering us food and drink but because the roaches had the run of the kitchen, I refused to eat a thing. Now if that wasn't enough, it was the smell that prompted me to say that I had to leave early because my Grandmother had taken ill. Y'all, my Grandmother died many years before I was born...go figure. Anyway, enjoy:

Southern Comfort

A rat ran across the living room floor
then through the bathroom door.
I acted like I didn’t see it.

But my company did.
I wonder where he hid.

I opened the fridge, a roach was
on the water jug
and another on my favorite mug.
I acted like I didn’t see it.

But my company did.
They’ll drink a coke instead.

There is rust on top
of the coffee pot
but the coffee was nice and hot.
I acted like I didn’t see it.

But my company did.

My stove don’t work.
My toilet won’t flush.
What’s the rush?

My grass is high.
My house smells like pee.
Well, there’s no one here but me.

My TV won’t talk
My porch is falling in.
I acted like I didn’t notice it.

But my company did.

I farted then left the room
and wished that I had known
that when I returned
my company would be gone.
I acted like I didn’t smell it.

I guess my company did.

Some Christmas,
I haven’t had company since.

WYLD STYLZ

POEM OF THE DAY - "Spots"

I wrote this poem a few years back. It, in all of its graphic interpretation, is actually an ode to the millions of parents whose children have been victimized through sexual molestation, who for years had no earthly idea that it was happening, until one day the truth rears its ugly head. It is a harsh reality for many parents who emotionally torture themselves by feeling guilty for not being able to keep it from happening and not knowing all the while:


Spots
(for the mothers who didn’t know)

weep
grasping the countless times
of purity stolen
visions of the forcing pupil
down
my throat
and fingers between
my cheeks

I am no longer a child
I am a slave

weep
grasping the endless moments
of humility endured
the weight on
my back
greasy hands
clasp my waist
the pain
mental

I am no longer a child
I am a slave

my jaw frozen with fear
as my underwear hangs
speechless
on the line
drying

as my mother wonders
and screams
why?

I am only a child
I am not a slave

weep
grasping her dress-tail
she asks God questions
through a thousand
tears
and kills herself
with sorrow

WYLD STYLZ

Poem of the Day - "Spade"

Spade

It hit me
like my period
and just that.
Without warning,
like a jolt
of electricity.
The forbidden felicity
that I was in love
with this man
10 years my senior.

It warmed me
like jambalaya
and just that.
With the spice
of passion
the subtle rush
forced myself to hush
that I was in love
with this man
who taught me
to be just that.

WYLD STYLZ

POEM OF THE DAY - "ADAM"

ADAM

I am the river of love
that flows through your veins
and the conscience of life
that thrives in your brain
and bronze and black granite
I stand in your soul
and dreams that you live
until you are old.

I am the passion
unleashed, unmatched, untamed
from sweaty palms on smooth faces
and in bronze and black granite
I dance in your head
and songs that you sing
until you are dead.

I am the fruit of the earth
with the nectar you crave
the prince that protects you
from now ’til the grave.

And to testify to truth of myself,
I am the bosom of peace
where mercy lies
and the bed of solace
from which you should rise.

And in bronze and black granite
and kisses so sweet
I am a real black man
from the crown of my head
to the soles of my feet.

WYLD STYLZ

POEM OF THE DAY - "The End of a Love Affair"

The poem is one of my personal favorites. I wrote it in about 20 minutes on the strength of a friend of mine going through turmoil with her then husband over and over again. I hope you enjoy reading it as mush as I did writing it:

"The End of a Love Affair"


What happens when the music ends
and the dance is not so sweet?
The lover affair has gone so sour
and the flame is oh so weak.
The roses have all wilted
the cards all thrown away.
A night’s embrace has been replaced
with silence from night to day.
The sweet perfume no longer lingers
the sex is come and go.
The arguments more aggressive,
your lover, now your foe.
The dinner table never used
the china gathers dust.
A shower together, never,
your nudeness, your disgust.
The kindness lead to rumors
of things you dare not do.
Your circle of friends has multiplied,
now made up of two.
The effort goes unnoticed
on the time you spent doing
things that helped you achieve
the dreams you were pursuing.
A cold hello and then goodbye
no kiss to make your day.
I know you often wonder how
could you treat each other that way?
The nights alone are replaced with sex
from a person that misleads,
uses your body and leaves you ashamed
just to satisfy your needs.
The tokens of love have all but vanished,
the debt, you no longer share.
The price for love now paid with hate
at the end of a love affair.
So what happens when the music ends
and the dance is not so sweet?
Do you start the record over
just to let the dance repeat?


WYLD STYLZ