Author: kenn

Faith licker, finger pricker, blood thicker, pull trigger, click clicka
Run Bigger run nigga, dirt kicker, mortis rigor, faith sicker, God digger.

selah

How can I concatenate to He?
Dossier of my prior won’t let me be
Judged and tried and can’t pay the fee
Then suddenly released on a technicality

selah

A loophole and prophecies thrice said
A bruised heel crushes a wicked head
To win His bride, He obediently shed
God dredge. It is written. Jesus said.

selah

Vampire hunters just bear it
Followers of heresy just swear it
Thugged-out rappers just wear it
The homeless mission just Jesus Cares” it
Do they dig it though? Can you dig it?

selah

The cross the cross the old rugged cross
I’m not saying she’s a God digger. Her loss.

finis.

© 2006 kenn Bivins

Symmetry is but skin deep and I’m in a sentimental mood
Kaleidoscopes and Coltrane and the serendipity of you
Intoxicated ramblings drunk from the elixir of your dew
Never said I was so sinless but I am an heir of a great Jew

Some say that the crop is considered from the root
Some say the fool is wisest when he’s mute
Some say that I am a man of good repute
I say your skin makes me wonder of your fruit.

Nerve endings and oil glands and blood vessels do compose
And collagen and elastin and goose bumps when youre cold
I love your skin and the fruit within if I may be so spry and bold
And this love, dear Dove still stays above when gravity wins the fold

Some say beauty is skin deep from the tooth
Some say my unannounced Dove looks a lot like you
Some say what’s within is worth declaring all the truth
Your vellum dermis casing skin it lovingly announces… YOU.

© 2006 kenn bivins

Hand in hand and flesh to flesh
Entrapped am I beneath your mesh
We take our time, breathe deep and slow
Pure ecstasy, our adagio
The clock has afforded with her chime
The sunset has deemed this is the time
Waxy, oily, balmy, wet
So unlike the runner’s sweat
Cool breeze caress our moistened skin
As I meet you, out then in
Wearing you as some dermis or suit
While suckling nectar as from rare fruit
Sip and lip and drip this wick
While flicker soft, the candles lick
Our shadows dance and lance and prance
As we are held in frenetic trance
Mellifluous is this pictured state
Onlookers would weep and salivate
Museums might have you if I were dead
So I’ll linger long and keep my head
Blessings and doorposts covered in red
God bless this bed from which was wed
I’ll feed you bread, repeat what’s said
No dread, misled, or worn down tread
Aroused from dead, once atrophied now fed
Ensnared am I betwixt your thread
Tenacious, lubricious, moist, and torrid
So much like the protected Forest
Where became my rib when I was sleep
This one I love and eternal keep
We proclaim forever, low audible pitch
Our adagio, our forever fix.

© 2006 kenn bivins

I think that if I’m nice to some stranger, he will reciprocate. Too often I’m reminded of how naive I may be in that thinking. Today I spoke to a group of obviously gay fellows in passing and got cold stares for my efforts. I wanted to pause and say something to one guy in particular who seemed to have the most disgust for my jovial greeting (I guess gay doesn’t mean happy). Instead I wrote about it. Enjoy my vent.

———————————————

Muscle-bound black and brown
No hairline with just a frown
Hail midtown
On the low be down
Pants around the ankles
Tips touch the ground
Ripped and round
Free yet bound
I said, Hi – he look around
Dude be rude
Ain’t no excuse
You all collude
Provoke this muse
Walk around
Self-loathe confound
No eye contact
No gimme a pound
Not a sound
Broken crown
Swish and swish
As fox to hound
I’ll verb your noun
I’ll loose your wound
I’ll flat your mound
I’ll help you drown
You muscle-bound
Black and brown
Low be down
Insolent clown.

(c) 2006 kenn bivins

Consciously and mindfully and fervently I make my choice
To utter a word and ardent verbs with lack absurd behind this voice
This choice to voice my choice mere hoists, my right and droit and still my choice
Rejoice I voice, fear is slain and moist neath our treads and exploits

So this choice I speak of so literally and deliberately
Is to say something others say so easily without thought or think
Or they’ll wait several moons to allege or to speak
As if the passage of time makes it truth or replete

This thing I choose to say I swear I do mean
And daily renew the vow with the signature of a keen
I feel it, I do it, I want it, don’t rue it,
I will remain true to it, tres palabras renew it

Idioms and dialects and tongues can articulate
Luminous yet simple words that linger and still emanate
Out of mouth yet in the mind and heart and being all around
Vexed, perplexed, and second-guessed, its origins still seem unfound
Enveloping the tangible and vanquishing where I once did shrink
Yielding to express my heart while acting on the words I think
Omnipresent beckoning and vertical lines exploit the voice
Unanimous and magnanimous I consciously have made my choice.

kenn bivins (c) 2006