"Listen how the music makes me wind up the waist
Listen to the sound of the drum and the bass." reggae song

 

 

Pimp Mama


The opiate quality of your essential oil draws me in,

along with the heat of the music.

I don't know what it is. You won't tell me.

It imprints in my mind and stays there like a scented void.

I think I catch drifts of jasmine or tuberose in the air . Weeks after you're gone.

This time you wear less .
To pull me in- really in

along with the beat of the music.

Against the wall, our party a deux goes on.

Your boys stand in front of us

creating a human shield to our dance.

We are sheltered in our little scented universe.

Only the dj can see us now.

 

 

Brainhell celebrated me and my life through his observations, conveyed through comments. He once told me I couldn't surprise him with any of my stories. That was after I wrote a blogpost about three blood brothers loving me at once.  An American, a Haitian and a Kenyan who were all d.j's.

Brainy was a very special man. This poem is from my club experiences in 2005.

I hope there's dancing in heaven.

 

04 14 08 edit: I still don't know what his cologne is but now I know his name

Brainy i love you. 04 12 08 twice I love you long time. At least all around the universe.