Her catalog of cinematic pornographic accomplishments
Covers three walls of her three bedroom home
Categorized from emotional destruction to emotional detachment
She remembers each one
Girls Gone Wild, teenage rebellion personified
But ain't nothing soft core about middle-aged men coaching you on how to touch yourself
Them little star launched her star into Freaky First-Timers
Making her the newest hard core porn actress
Changed her name cause Chloe Cummz does what Lisa Thomas doesn't
Suck, squirt, ride
Missionary and doggy-style
Titty-fuck, toys, time-clock lesbians and ATM machines
Cried during Anal Crusaders but
Can't work if all your holes ain't for sale
So she gave up what she was saving for her husband
To a dude named Van Damage who did damage
To more than just her asshole
10th time around
Double Your Pleasure doubled the pressure on her stomach cavity
Two scenes of double penetration meant double the pay
And hey, that's what Lisa was going for
Chloe fucked her way up that ladder of abscess til she could cum no more
And couldn't suppress the pride when AVN gave her four award nominations
2009 Adult Video Vixen
And the jobs came
Wicked's exclusive contract star
Tales from the Dykeside where she learned that
All pussy is created equal
Cream Pie Surprise surprised even the camera man
With her milky white gold flowing like geysers
Graduated to big name dicks and now she's
Fuck'n Blackzilla and only taking Diesel
Letting black wood splinter her pussy walls like cheap pencils
Eight hours hard labor
She rode Black Ice to snort snow to cope with the cicles of social popularity that surrounded her uterus
And the bi-weekly tests couldn't stop her from getting that STD
And heavy birth control couldn't stop her from having Mandingo's baby
Classified a MILF and refused to watch Desperate Housewhores cause
Her moans reminded her took much of her newborn babies cries
Inside, her 10 years in the game felt like 25
She wouldn't make it cougar status cause she let the industry devour her soul
And spit back enough titles to cover three walls of the nearest mom & pop video store
Where Johns can choose her in pigtails or gangbangs
The glossy covers taking away from the shine in her eyes
That has dimmed after years of packaging it away with her dignity
There's nothing like knowing strangers have studied your body for hours
Just for a few minutes of satisfaction
She's lived her life on the front of DVDs and Blu-Ray discs
And that's the price she paid
For your $9.99 a cumshot
3/9/09
Repeat
she said play that song back
press repeat
let me relive our 1st few days through a smooth bass beat
when ur eyes shined as bright as ur smile
even on days when life had lost its luster
i used 2 dress my gender
& u singing 2 me was all i'd need 2 make my day complete
spirited lyrics between plucks of guitar strings
i was that sight, w/my energy shinin' so bright
& so strong that it pulsed through our bodies like sonic booms
as we lay on da floor of my apartment
intimacy at its most innocent
& i can't remember da last time it felt like that
now we live by alarm clocks & difficult talks that may or may not end positively
i used 2 tell u things w/my touch
that would never come out my mouth
& u listened
told me things w/ur body placement on top of mine
that matched da look in ur eyes
& i understood
we spoke our own language & walked our own routine
but somewhere down da line i confused breakin' my neck 4 u
w/breakin' ur back 4 me
overcome by my selfish tendencies
press repeat
da refrain doesn't bother me
cause i wanna still be da Princess who burns CDs
calls u her Honeybee
wanna be da couple who spends their nights @ IHOP
& days in da conforms of satin sheets or comforters or carpets or showers
or da sun rays that cut through patio blinds
soaking in da moments between verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge
yea
that track holds da fountain of youth 2 our relationship
da 1st 'our song'
cause we can have sex 2 mixes & singles
but nuthin beats making love 2 my wife
2 da sounds of U & I
press repeat
let me relive our 1st few days through a smooth bass beat
when ur eyes shined as bright as ur smile
even on days when life had lost its luster
i used 2 dress my gender
& u singing 2 me was all i'd need 2 make my day complete
spirited lyrics between plucks of guitar strings
i was that sight, w/my energy shinin' so bright
& so strong that it pulsed through our bodies like sonic booms
as we lay on da floor of my apartment
intimacy at its most innocent
& i can't remember da last time it felt like that
now we live by alarm clocks & difficult talks that may or may not end positively
i used 2 tell u things w/my touch
that would never come out my mouth
& u listened
told me things w/ur body placement on top of mine
that matched da look in ur eyes
& i understood
we spoke our own language & walked our own routine
but somewhere down da line i confused breakin' my neck 4 u
w/breakin' ur back 4 me
overcome by my selfish tendencies
press repeat
da refrain doesn't bother me
cause i wanna still be da Princess who burns CDs
calls u her Honeybee
wanna be da couple who spends their nights @ IHOP
& days in da conforms of satin sheets or comforters or carpets or showers
or da sun rays that cut through patio blinds
soaking in da moments between verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge
yea
that track holds da fountain of youth 2 our relationship
da 1st 'our song'
cause we can have sex 2 mixes & singles
but nuthin beats making love 2 my wife
2 da sounds of U & I
11/20/08
Dictionary
I live in the dictionary
I'm 12 months into a lifelong lease and
I've made myself comfortable between the
Pages of black ink and illustrations
The top right corner now conforms perfectly between my index and thumb
Like my grandfather's ass cheeks in his favorite chair
I made poetry my pillow
So I can wipe my feet on poverty in my sleep
Two Tuesdays ago
I evicted my roommate
He couldn't stop leaving his dirty fingerprints on my mantle of beliefs
He wrapped "constitution" around his right hand and
Scribbled "abnormal" on the fogged shower mirror
As I washed off the obligations my mother had
Beaten into my subconscious
He refused to spray weedkiller on the discrimination tree
Sprouting on the book's spine
Said it felt too much like cutting down his backbone
So I wrapped both hands around his roots
Trying to uproot his creed that
Redefinition and restriction aren't the same things
When both are rooted in re-instituting
These ropes around my dreams
By then I knew he had to leave
I filled the refrigerator with my organic concoctions
Of compound words that he couldn't digest
Because he was raised on the carnal dishes of
Prefixes and suffixes
Substituting the common in our arranged marriage
With the same ingredients I grew in my backyard
He gagged on his inner inconsistencies
Retaliation gave me a Christmas wedding gift of
One-way tickets to Massachusetts with
Blessings that there, I could get what I need
I said, Mr. Webster please
I prefer not to go to the state where my ancestors were sold in past lives
Just to come full circle in this life
Cause in this life, my wife's gonna stay with me
And 3's not company
It's a breach of my lease contract
The dictionary is my home
These baby locks are really just complex metaphors
Matted together after fornicating on the first page of the F's
When I'm hungry, I peel back outer sheets and eat in between the lines
Like Malcolm X on the floor of his prison cell
My connection to this papyrus parallels Egyptian folklore
So if anything
Your illegal residence in this residential domicile
Defiles the definition of matrimony more than me playing a groom
And my woman playing the bride
Now is the end of your time
So eviction put your stuff outside
Meaning a little unclear?
Well by all means
Go look it up
I'm 12 months into a lifelong lease and
I've made myself comfortable between the
Pages of black ink and illustrations
The top right corner now conforms perfectly between my index and thumb
Like my grandfather's ass cheeks in his favorite chair
I made poetry my pillow
So I can wipe my feet on poverty in my sleep
Two Tuesdays ago
I evicted my roommate
He couldn't stop leaving his dirty fingerprints on my mantle of beliefs
He wrapped "constitution" around his right hand and
Scribbled "abnormal" on the fogged shower mirror
As I washed off the obligations my mother had
Beaten into my subconscious
He refused to spray weedkiller on the discrimination tree
Sprouting on the book's spine
Said it felt too much like cutting down his backbone
So I wrapped both hands around his roots
Trying to uproot his creed that
Redefinition and restriction aren't the same things
When both are rooted in re-instituting
These ropes around my dreams
By then I knew he had to leave
I filled the refrigerator with my organic concoctions
Of compound words that he couldn't digest
Because he was raised on the carnal dishes of
Prefixes and suffixes
Substituting the common in our arranged marriage
With the same ingredients I grew in my backyard
He gagged on his inner inconsistencies
Retaliation gave me a Christmas wedding gift of
One-way tickets to Massachusetts with
Blessings that there, I could get what I need
I said, Mr. Webster please
I prefer not to go to the state where my ancestors were sold in past lives
Just to come full circle in this life
Cause in this life, my wife's gonna stay with me
And 3's not company
It's a breach of my lease contract
The dictionary is my home
These baby locks are really just complex metaphors
Matted together after fornicating on the first page of the F's
When I'm hungry, I peel back outer sheets and eat in between the lines
Like Malcolm X on the floor of his prison cell
My connection to this papyrus parallels Egyptian folklore
So if anything
Your illegal residence in this residential domicile
Defiles the definition of matrimony more than me playing a groom
And my woman playing the bride
Now is the end of your time
So eviction put your stuff outside
Meaning a little unclear?
Well by all means
Go look it up
10/27/08
The Pied Piper
Can you hear it?
Can you hear the sweet melody?
It wafts through the air like a midspring breeze
Yet its strong enough to blow hymns through guitar strings
He's coming
Making his way to our pueblos, our towns, our barrios, our street corners
Effortlessly gliding up and down musical scales
Cultural divides
Racial lines
To unite us with one song of change
The pied piper of a new world history
He's coming
And us rats have been waiting
Waiting on the one who would dawn a new day
Cause we are tired of scavenging
Coveting the leftover food scraps thrown out by the nose turners and eye cutters
He gives us something as elusive as the sweet smell of freedom
Singing Flobotic creeds of manifest destiny
This land is my land, This land is your land
And we
Want it back
To taste the fruit of our labor
Instead of harvesting it for someone else
We rats are readying to flee this downtrodden village infested with poverty
To follow the piper to the land of milk and middle class tax cuts
Honey and affordable healthcare
A paradise not lost, just needing to be rebuilt
He's coming
Do you hear it?
Do you hear the joyous chords of revival?
Accompanied by a nation of backup singers
Sopranos, altos, basses, tenors
All willing this musician closer
To keep Baracking
To push on harder
Cause us rats need saving
We're down to our last piece of cheese
We've spent the last eight years on our knees
Just fertilizing bushes that only birth feces
It's been past time to leave
To venture into the green, into the black
Back to the glory of yesteryears
And the hope of this man to take us there
Floats like the notes that flow from his voicebox
It sounds a little like Sam Cook
Mixed with Marvin Gaye
Produced by Will.I.Am
That pied piper is a bad man
I can hear it
Can you?
Yes we can
Can you hear the sweet melody?
It wafts through the air like a midspring breeze
Yet its strong enough to blow hymns through guitar strings
He's coming
Making his way to our pueblos, our towns, our barrios, our street corners
Effortlessly gliding up and down musical scales
Cultural divides
Racial lines
To unite us with one song of change
The pied piper of a new world history
He's coming
And us rats have been waiting
Waiting on the one who would dawn a new day
Cause we are tired of scavenging
Coveting the leftover food scraps thrown out by the nose turners and eye cutters
He gives us something as elusive as the sweet smell of freedom
Singing Flobotic creeds of manifest destiny
This land is my land, This land is your land
And we
Want it back
To taste the fruit of our labor
Instead of harvesting it for someone else
We rats are readying to flee this downtrodden village infested with poverty
To follow the piper to the land of milk and middle class tax cuts
Honey and affordable healthcare
A paradise not lost, just needing to be rebuilt
He's coming
Do you hear it?
Do you hear the joyous chords of revival?
Accompanied by a nation of backup singers
Sopranos, altos, basses, tenors
All willing this musician closer
To keep Baracking
To push on harder
Cause us rats need saving
We're down to our last piece of cheese
We've spent the last eight years on our knees
Just fertilizing bushes that only birth feces
It's been past time to leave
To venture into the green, into the black
Back to the glory of yesteryears
And the hope of this man to take us there
Floats like the notes that flow from his voicebox
It sounds a little like Sam Cook
Mixed with Marvin Gaye
Produced by Will.I.Am
That pied piper is a bad man
I can hear it
Can you?
Yes we can
10/15/08
Vids and Pics
9/25/08
She Eats
She's been making herself sick
Escaping to the solitude of bathroom stalls and
Hiding the evidence in bedroom trash cans
She regrets it every time but
She can't stop
See, eating disorders start at an early age
Watching what her mother ate and fed her brothers and sisters
Too young to differentiate bad from good
And now her immune system can't digest all those toxins
What comes up
Is all those words she spoke against her life
Against her boyfriend-turned-husband-turned-baby daddy-turned-ex-husband-turned-trifling ass bastard who left
When he'd had enough of her words
She eats the late-night conversations with her best friend
"That nigga ain't no good"
Just to throw them up again
Against her embryo-turned-fetus-turned-baby girl she tried desperately for nine months
To turn male who's seemingly turning male right before her eyes
She eats the coos whispered to her 8-week-old swollen belly
"I will call you William"
Just to throw them up again
Because her mother fed her three square meals of "You won't be nobody"
Two decades later she's still dry heaving on nouns and verbs
She couldn't completely swallow the first time
Cause she knew it didn't taste right
She's been making herself sick and she
Makes herself sick because
She can't stop what she's already put into her body
Into the universe
She eats what she sows and the rotten fruits from negative trees
Have condemned her soul to spiritual bulimia
An urban Sisyphus content to pull her finger out her throat
Just to push it back down again
She can't hold it in because
The regurgitated grammar settles in her arteries like ready-made heart attacks
To snatch away her existence
They never said eating crow causes death
So she makes herself sick
Escaping to the solitude of bathroom stalls and
Hiding the evidence in bedroom trash cans
She regrets it every time but
She can't stop
*the vid doesn't have the whole poem, just the first 3/4. . .sorry
Escaping to the solitude of bathroom stalls and
Hiding the evidence in bedroom trash cans
She regrets it every time but
She can't stop
See, eating disorders start at an early age
Watching what her mother ate and fed her brothers and sisters
Too young to differentiate bad from good
And now her immune system can't digest all those toxins
What comes up
Is all those words she spoke against her life
Against her boyfriend-turned-husband-turned-baby daddy-turned-ex-husband-turned-trifling ass bastard who left
When he'd had enough of her words
She eats the late-night conversations with her best friend
"That nigga ain't no good"
Just to throw them up again
Against her embryo-turned-fetus-turned-baby girl she tried desperately for nine months
To turn male who's seemingly turning male right before her eyes
She eats the coos whispered to her 8-week-old swollen belly
"I will call you William"
Just to throw them up again
Because her mother fed her three square meals of "You won't be nobody"
Two decades later she's still dry heaving on nouns and verbs
She couldn't completely swallow the first time
Cause she knew it didn't taste right
She's been making herself sick and she
Makes herself sick because
She can't stop what she's already put into her body
Into the universe
She eats what she sows and the rotten fruits from negative trees
Have condemned her soul to spiritual bulimia
An urban Sisyphus content to pull her finger out her throat
Just to push it back down again
She can't hold it in because
The regurgitated grammar settles in her arteries like ready-made heart attacks
To snatch away her existence
They never said eating crow causes death
So she makes herself sick
Escaping to the solitude of bathroom stalls and
Hiding the evidence in bedroom trash cans
She regrets it every time but
She can't stop
*the vid doesn't have the whole poem, just the first 3/4. . .sorry
9/17/08
The Mask
My mother told me I was beautiful with it on
A porcelain sculpture half green with promise half blue with expectation
A look of strength and weariness etched into its surface overflowing with defiantly straight and long black hair
And I swore to never take it off
With it, I was the closest to perfection I could be
Not quite there because only true artists can bring their imaginations alive
And I was my mother's first child
Her first artistic try
In her womb, she made sure to eat the fruits of disappointment
So obligation would flow through her bloodstream
To me
This made my mask unbreakable
She didn't have to tell me that I came from a long line of mask-wearers
I saw it with my own eyes
At holiday gatherings, aunts, uncles and cousins spoke the language of prisoners
And ceremoniously passed down the familial iron mask like sweet potato pies at the dinner table
I took my piece gladly
At home, I'd bump
"M to the A to the S to the K
Put the mask upon the face just to make the next day"
Not realizin' that Wyclef had Lauryn singing her own identity death sentence
I took on as a mantra
Until I learned that words are more powerful than parental hand me downs
With a shout of "I am beautiful"
My mask began to crack and peel like hard-boiled egg shells
Who I really was wasn't for whispers
I walked around intrigued by the little piece of chin and mouth
Peeking out like Phantom of the Opera
A bulk of the porcelain had stayed
But the energy of my self-esteem
Made the forehead and cheek pieces fall, too, cause
Who I was wasn't for hiding
The final piece
A duplicate of flimsy cereal box 3D glasses
Disintegrated when I set aside my fear and agreed to live in reality
And it felt good to free my face
Let my cheeks feel air because after 22 years
That porcelain suffocated so much that even my pores breathed sighs of relief
Opened my eyes wide enough that I could see my reflection in my pupils
I liked me
mocha brown skin golden with ancestry eyes bright with enlightenment
A smile that beamed confidence, love and strength topped with kinky, nappy hair
And nothing
Not even the look of disgust and disappointment on my mother's face could dampen my elated spirit
She was ashamed
For the first time, my mom told me I was ugly
Because the twinkle in my eyes had rainbow-colored tints and she
Couldn't handle it
"Without your mask, I don't know you"
The irony is Mom,
Without my mask, I don't know you either
A porcelain sculpture half green with promise half blue with expectation
A look of strength and weariness etched into its surface overflowing with defiantly straight and long black hair
And I swore to never take it off
With it, I was the closest to perfection I could be
Not quite there because only true artists can bring their imaginations alive
And I was my mother's first child
Her first artistic try
In her womb, she made sure to eat the fruits of disappointment
So obligation would flow through her bloodstream
To me
This made my mask unbreakable
She didn't have to tell me that I came from a long line of mask-wearers
I saw it with my own eyes
At holiday gatherings, aunts, uncles and cousins spoke the language of prisoners
And ceremoniously passed down the familial iron mask like sweet potato pies at the dinner table
I took my piece gladly
At home, I'd bump
"M to the A to the S to the K
Put the mask upon the face just to make the next day"
Not realizin' that Wyclef had Lauryn singing her own identity death sentence
I took on as a mantra
Until I learned that words are more powerful than parental hand me downs
With a shout of "I am beautiful"
My mask began to crack and peel like hard-boiled egg shells
Who I really was wasn't for whispers
I walked around intrigued by the little piece of chin and mouth
Peeking out like Phantom of the Opera
A bulk of the porcelain had stayed
But the energy of my self-esteem
Made the forehead and cheek pieces fall, too, cause
Who I was wasn't for hiding
The final piece
A duplicate of flimsy cereal box 3D glasses
Disintegrated when I set aside my fear and agreed to live in reality
And it felt good to free my face
Let my cheeks feel air because after 22 years
That porcelain suffocated so much that even my pores breathed sighs of relief
Opened my eyes wide enough that I could see my reflection in my pupils
I liked me
mocha brown skin golden with ancestry eyes bright with enlightenment
A smile that beamed confidence, love and strength topped with kinky, nappy hair
And nothing
Not even the look of disgust and disappointment on my mother's face could dampen my elated spirit
She was ashamed
For the first time, my mom told me I was ugly
Because the twinkle in my eyes had rainbow-colored tints and she
Couldn't handle it
"Without your mask, I don't know you"
The irony is Mom,
Without my mask, I don't know you either
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