rhymes with nadine

(Nadine is the personification of hope)

This is not some love poem or a soliloquy of a dream
This is not a confession of an angry black man or how its difficult to be a human being
This is not a suicide note left with hesitant intentions of being seen
And this is not an adolescent cry with regret that I have been weaned

What this is is inspiration from a flesh and walking dream
What this is is articulation to the canopy above the seas
What this is is experimental though obsession it may seem
What this is is a gift kind of like money green or chocolate cream

This is exotic feathers seconds after the beak has preened
This is a one-apple fixation more from healthy trees
This is an arduous extensive reach to tell her what I really mean
This is one mans venture into what rhymes with Nadine.

Now upon meeting Nadine I felt chills up my spleen
Or down my spleen, you see direction wasn’t my focus while my focus was this dream
Yes, this dream I rename Nadine, to protect the innocent amidst a crowded scene
And her smile was like some glow or gleam or shine or sheen just rendering me

Riddling me, butterflies inside flittering deep, betrayed by a mouth that wouldn’t speak
This was not a commonplace meeting or a random dating thing
This was not some fortuitous glint or something karma has deemed
This was not boy meets girl simply for girl and boy to thump like peens

This was not boy selecting candidates to consummate his black book team
What it was makes me sing and what it is is like Plasticine
Molded mass around structured glass, who knows what it will be
Yet with 206 bones from about 300 that convened

And gray matter that is more complex than the most intricate machine
There is hope to which I careen as directional as a stream or gravity’s lean
I know not what I saying but I am saying what I mean.
People may look at her and see someone refined and pristine

A warming smile encased in glass, steady, safe, unwavering
I am inclined to behold much more, her depth like gasoline
Explosive is what emanates, her heat burns pure and clean
Natural, nice, quite phenomenal, networking is where she beams

Amazing, analytical, animated, adept amongst many other things
Detonating, drop-dead gorgeous, I dig her diction, shes my dream
Imagination, intelligent face and introspective she might be
Nothing precedes her nor depletes her, neo, novel, my intervene

Excited, enlightened, energetic, endowed with grace of 40 queens
40 things and 30 scenes and 20 props made of polystyrene
Is that so keen? Not clear but keen. No wait I’m keen. Well, I once was Keen.
I once was Keen before Nadine. But in her honor I eschewed an E

In exchange for that E and to her esteem, N took its place, N for Nadine
Conclusively or decidedly or perhaps more appropriately unconditionally
Homage and admiration and permeation beyond the seams
France is where it originated from and hope is what it means

Starts in the N and ends as in E yet her monikers no big thing
Her dermis and curves and motives and verbs is where I would place the reams
Of stash and cash and interest and gladly exalting this Nadine
This exaltation is long so pardon my lingering scene

This is not some love poem or a soliloquy of a dream
This is not a confession of an angry black man or how its difficult to be a human being
This is not a suicide note left with hesitant intentions of being seen
And this is not an adolescent cry with regret that I have been weaned

What I hope is that her heart and nerves and ears hereafter see
What I hope is that my Love prevails condemning crooks and fiends
What I hope is that a remnant sows and nurtures kinetic seed
And the seed shall be though we can’t see and one day it will burst forth from the ground and it will be.

No thing, no fling, no temporary scene, no nicotine
Well quaff and feast and dream and clean
Reconvene forever between God’s grace and
Well reconvene and reconvene and reconvene forever, Nadine.

Love Kenn, your Keen. End scene.

baby baby

not sure why the baby is upside down or why I’m doodling babies but…

sketching Kirby

Jack Kirby sketch

I was reading an interview on the early years of Jack Kirby, the artist and co-creator of Spider-Man, Hulk, Fantastic Four, Captain America, and a host of other comic book legends. Since I have a tendency to doodle as I read, talk, or work, I figured I would start sharing those distractions with you here. These are by no means complete works of art. They are instead line ramblings and doodles. Enjoy the deviation.

Jack Kirby sketch

wake Up

Thinking of you sleeping right before you wake up
Has me so warm to steeping that I’m about to break up
The visual of you wrapped in sheets not wearing any makeup
Has me so terse that if I burst then I could fill a lake up

There must be some hobby or craft I can maybe take up
In the event that you awaken and decide to pull your stakes up
Or in honor of you and this view I could build a cake up
That says “You’re on my mind and all for just the sake of”

Thinking of you stirring right before you wake up
There I go again thinking of something we could make up
Like leave the sheets in disarray or toss the pillows as some quake up
But then maybe this is a just a dream. Don’t ever want to wake up.

.kenn

best. show. ever.

The Wire ended it’s 5-season run last night and I am sad to see it end. No more Omar. No more Bunk. No more McNulty. No more Bubbs. No more Simon genius.

This was an excellent show and if you’ve never seen it, invest in the dvd’s.
Good writing. Good social commentary. Good characters. Good laughs.
Good cries. Good watching.

To all who worked on the show, “Job well done!”

happy birthday, sam

She do not like green eggs and ham
She do like granola and vegetarian spam
Great talent in 3D God attributed to her
A mature immaturity and a dog named Gir
Hailing for Detroit but it’s not all her fault
Happy Birthday, Samara. Tip you glass of gluten-free, flax seed, soy-laden malt.

Check out Samara’s skills at her website and wish her happy 30. Welcome to MY decade, young’un. Now life REALLY starts.

i love you today… and tomorrow

Know that I loved you yesterday though there is no aftertaste of chocolate or dullness of a hangover. Know that I don’t conform to empty traditions and postures and thank you for accepting me in this. Know that I don’t need a day or excuse or floating filament to attest to my sentiment.

Above all, know that I loved you yesterday. I love you today. And I’ll love you tomorrow, my Friends. Have a bright one.

evidence

Cordon off the area
Secure the halls
There’s honey on the floor
Sugar on the walls
There’s flowers in a vase
Rose petals on the bed
Bathtub full of milk
And someone has lost his head
Aromatic candles flicker soft
No light switch can be found
The silence is suspicious
Wait, there is a subtle sound
Heartbeats or footsteps
Or bodies falling down steps
Ambient, rhythmic moaning
Thrust into the depths
No body nor a weapon
Nor motive for suspense
Yet someone’s been affected
By the preponderance of evidence.

kenn ’05