All Things Poetic

So You Think You Bad?

Well, well, well, what you up to now?  Oh I'm sorry, did I interrupt your flow, your game, your hide and go cheat?  No Baby don't mind me.  Please proceed to kick that, hit that ball out the park and into my lap so I can wake the fuck up and see your misrepresentation of a partner gone flat.

I don't trust you as far as I can throw you and Lord knows I can't throw.  Shit I'm not gonna lie.  You was crafty and for a minute I regurgitated every word, every trick, swindle and rouse I allowed you to force feed down my heart which was stuck to you and what I thought was good love.  But you're addicted to that one, two, maybe five deadly sins 1, 2 steppin' around the truth, lies and let's go to the videotape.

Oh yes.  It's documented how you said this, then did that.  Expressin' love and how you got my back when you really had her up against the wall actin' like you was all that.

It was your world I lived in.  I believed I belonged.  Inhabiting your planet, taking on your dogma, learning your style as law.

Now I look like a fool to stay.  Losin' sleep sleeping with the enemy who imitates the life of someone else by day performing dirty pretty things by  night.

Trust.  These are lessons learned and never repeated.  Cuz like Erykah, "I'm cleva" and I'll show you how I roll.

Solomente.  Uno.  Me subtracted from you, times two plus somebody else's lover cuz that's how you do it.

Don't tell me you still salty cuz I found me the right stuff?  Let us not forget you was the one face to porcelain not one month after you was mackin' with what's-her-face at the club.

Yeah I know about that too.  But no need to worry boo I'm all set.  I've checked out of your hotel for good. No refund please.  Keep the check.

Copyright 2005

Tiffani C. Frost

Like Cocaine

**You'll find this poem on my CD, "On Her Own"

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I have a secret.  She's my secret.  It's her.

I'm taken in swirled around and intoxicated by her like cocaine, sweet chocolate and sex all at once my secret.

Every time is like the first time.  Her clean and pure tastes like candy I beg for more.

Even though she's everything I am not.  Everything they told me I could be yet I still love her like cocaine.

I'm addicted and high off her.  There, there she is laughing at me, deep devilish laugh because they say she is it.

Her it resonates because everyday I see her and hear her and study her and it stings like the first blow and yet I still love her.

Will she release me?  Am I free to taste and indulge in another for I try.

I try to turn on her.  Sniff in and blow out but quick and cold she can be my secret.

But who can ignore the goodness?  Her long, hot shot of perfection her it.

Even though she taunts me.  Even though she pulls me in only to shut me out I still love her like cocaine.

But she is who she is.  The epitome of desire.  Honest desire.

The perfect white line on the perfect clear glass of my body and I continue to love her...

I can't help it.

Copyright 2001

Tiffani C. Frost

Sweet On Feet

**You'll find this poem on my CD, "On her Own"

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for my grama...

Here comes a force to be reckoned with.
A walking monument of grace. A committed pack-rat collecting baskets of family treasures and history.
Lady G the matriarch of self-less giving.
Too lovely for words, too quick on her feet and cheeks that would make cherubs blush.
The quintesstential grandlady.
"Chile did I tell you this?" And "don't you know that?". Dancing' the electric slide all night long.
She is coolest of the cool for someone whose tree was planted in 1920 something or somewhere you'll find her Caddy that zigs and zags sporting a smile for the strangers and a yoowho! for the neighbors.
She is a keepsake of sweetness volunteering her prayers and good word for anyone in need.
And with her front porch open for business make sure you stop by to hug the creature whose heart is soft and hands that tell tales.
Floating on air she does not walk, she simply appears.
With a status and staure so high you'd think she was the Mayor.
Educating, contemplating and elevating the youth in the park of lincoln.
And don't take it personal cuz she will tell you if you're out of line, not on time, pants saggingg, don't you be bragging and did you put on deoderent today?
Lady G is upfront, in your face, tell it like it is. And when all is lost...give it to God.
What more could you ask for? One should be so lucky to connect with such a soul.
My GrandLady, sweetness in motion.

Copyright September 2004

Tiffani Frost

The Chaos That Exists Here

when the dawn rises from within the grand splendor of ridicules, sweetly spoken words burried in mind from before unconfortably numb was a theme; scenario, norm, an unsightly haze musty habit choking childhood under the bed where only the largest star can rescue from parental loveless stormy episodes outside doors. black abyss no hall-light shattered every breath, heartbeat shaking the knowledge that once exsited that eight year olds: skip, play, fall, beatdown, crack night falls upon horses running wild escaping the ground, the fault which quakes vacuum-like action blow in, scream out role model! lungs exhale be patient twenty years before grooves are filled but what's in a name? not shakespeare writ wonderment large enough to stake this claim. bubbles bursting, blown over be sure the net captures in time patience overgrown for the keeper is kept ridding pink banana seats streamers fly in winds only angels can see. london streets district lights red promote one mans' desired destiny where hands lead fate by choice choosing the ultimate sin. tiny smiles broken, wishes of amnesia don't amount to the mysteries of a car salesman gone mad in 1983, 82, 5, 6, 7, 8 count the ways electricity can flow to ignite a minor dissovowed. no presents wrapped but destroyed-schools out stand alone and wait to be forgotten left for dead to missappropriate a life. innocence burning, drifting on... sing sing a lullaby to impress upon this offspring good does exist beyond four walls. if chances are dared will someone lead to quiet places glasses half-full to particulars unknown for the chaos that did exist.

Copyright July 2005

Tiffani C. Frost

Sprung

**You'll find this poem on my CD, On Her Own"

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Ooh I love my man.  And my man loves me.

It’s like no other this thing we got going on.

Don't you know what you do when you touch, lick, suck, pull, devour this is the hour for love.

Tell me jump and I’ll ask how high cuz my body is under your command…I am your servant of love. 

I’ll be a good girl if you do it just right cuz your touch is never wrong. 

I can’t stand up for falling down into your lap of luxury, luxurious, stupendous, delicious, nasty, hot, wet…did I leave anything out?  Because I seem to lose all sense, vocabulary, articulation when you articulate your tongue down my body and into my special place that is now your place of feast.  And feast on.

No need to rush.  The phone is unplugged and I am plugged into you and your grip.  Work on my love, work on.

Overtime, under time, extra credit, after school- believe me, you got the job that you applied for: The Certified Executive Officer Of My Stuff.

And my stuff, my heart, my soul, my future is all yours. 

So do with me what you will.  Lights on or off.  Before work, maybe a light snack, after dinner with a cherry on top, that’s you. 

Anyway you slice it, you and I just fit.  You slide into me and I melt into you.  Our bodies are a perfect match and you love to perfection every time. 

So hurry hurry, step right up and get yours.

Daylights burnin’ and I can’t wait for your love.

Tiffani C. Frost

Copyright 2004

Empty Pockets

Delicate is the shape it takes only constructed for the eyes not for the touch of things is different somehow lagging behind, ticked on and on the meter strikes empty.

Do you need change?

A luggage rack? 

Some type of carrying device, handicap?  What’s your drive?

Sink? Or plummet?  That is the question to pose, prose and impress upon those that don’t know any better.  Lambs out to slaughter designed to feel, shave, no harm-no foul or sound.

Though it does come undone sometimes don’t it?  Unraveling before you, frayed beginnings is not off to a good start, on your mark, get set, fly into yourself and those of which we do not speak of. 

The good, the bad and the ugliest thing ever seen or presented to the country divided for your safety.

Do you need change?

Homeless, undertaken, under the thumb of your own self-no riches on these streets no handout even for folks who do tricks.

Hat in hand, would you like a floatation device?  Possibly some of the bubbly to aide in the after effects of the charm less wonder called the psyche.

Yes, assistance is needed and warranted in this matter of the heart, mindless mind empty and ready for new words.

Cliché as it is, that which does not kill us makes, us stronger and day-by-day Pete says to take heed to the one above.

Karma has no vendetta just an agenda like you. 

No point wasting life to satisfy that craving.

Fresh out.  Pockets are empty.

Tiffani C. Frost

Copyright  2005

Generic Prescription

Self-medication will only get you so far my dear, better get you some right in the head quick before fate passes you by.

Won’t do you no good communing with the Devil marooned on the island of desperate depressions, it never happens to me, my childhood was lacking this and that… heard enough to know that you whacked!  Yes, it takes a village to raise a child but sometimes the offer ‘aint so good.

Makeshift living is not worth settling for-topsy-turvy misusing your own life.

Get over yourself cuz you’re one in a million Americans who suffer from anxiety, dry mouth, my daddy didn’t love me and I have issues with rejection.

Time is ticking, sinking fast 10,000 leagues under the weight of the world on your shoulders and brain and even though you grew up inside a circus, three ring and all, there comes a time when you must take on the day.

Please be advised; that is if you can find time within your busy schedule to relax, relate and release past, pent up emotions and delusions of grandeurs, you’ll find there is a whole world out there.

Put the wheels in motion for the stage of the chrysalis. Actually do away with those coping mechanisms and do something.  Strip clean and become at peace with this genetic make-up, freak-show so-called life is in your name; sold bought and paid for.

Piecing together this girl’s life comforted by the sound of the cork popping, pills spilling a drunken stupor of promiscuity has gotten old.

Real old.

So ditch the first idea and go with Plan B. Be trigger happy in group therapy. Direct your inner-child to the reference section and fasten your seatbelt for the cleansing ride of your life.

Try something new: Drown yourself in functionality, semi-normalcy and open up the blinds.

The sun is shinning in for a change and today’s a good day to be alive.


Tiffani C. Frost

Copyright 2005

Classically In Love

**You'll find this poem on my CD, "On Her Own"

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Romeo and Juliet have nothing on us.

We are more than classically in love.  It is syrupy sweet, poetic, supernatural, not of this century.

How do I love thee?  As deep as your canyon goes.  Repelling down to me all geared up for a whisk away to Melrose Place.

And you need not worry my love, for I will be your superhero from the Lily.  As you have been mine.

With your massive heart reaching out and saying to me, “I just want to love you.”

And it’s those six words that send me to your wonderland.

Where your buildings stretch high past the clouds that dance for us.

And if you take my hand I will follow you to Verona, where we’ll begin our travels to create a being that’s you and me.

No, Romeo and Juliet have nothing on us.

My wordsmith, my outdoorsman, my new model of love.

And who knew we would ever be?  Who knew our paths would cross and bring us to mountainous lands of love?

Adoring, exemplifying and gratifying what’s meant to me.

Stolen kisses, hideaways, getaways, secret talks that last all night.

Drawing me into your reality that was once my dream.

A field full of horses running wild, sunflowers smiling to the sun, wind in my hair and you beside me whispering, “Welcome home.”

What would be my life without you?  It was the day before you said, “I love you.” Because that was the beginning of the rest of my life…Shakespeare couldn’t have written it better.

Tiffani C. Frost

Copyright 2004

Check Your Watch

Loosen up those buttons; give way to that lie you stole. 

Thick molasses my cup runneth over 70 degrees without snow. 

Do you know where you’re going to?  Mahogany dreams for a penny, drop wishin’! Don’t nobody know what war we’re fightin’ or whose side is on empty. 

A buck eighty-nine will no longer fill your tank or stomach when it comes down to peanut butter & jelly for dinner adding to the statistic aptitude test.  Wait!  This is a life no grade please my guardian is deaf. 

The administrator boasts the clock is ticking but are you competent casting out demons from above, below and inside with intent? 

Roll it, pack it, smoke up, and ingest yourself to purge that nasty complexity that once was the name slash identity. 

Profound in my findings I find me incapable to relinquish what you gave me. 

Money is not time well spent to this 90 minute session of digression twenty years may be overdue, take a peak, close your mouth, listen. 

Now I know you’re dressed to the 9’s high on what you think is reality.  Dripping, drowning a mess can’t nuthin’ cover up that frailty. 

That’s why I move at the speed of light before it’s too late to climb out of rock-a-bye, rock that lie, keep on, keepin’ on that front. 

Cuz before the winner is announced; intermissions over and you’re still out to lunch. 

I don’t know what else to tell you. 

The sun rises in the East, so check the time zone for a complete listing of-get to know me.

Tiffani C. Frost

Copyright 2005

Shift

down play the roles that played on like records 45 spinning and weaving around round the posies pockets full of questions unanswered because what was known was not the truth. mislead taken for a loop in and out of orchards apples falling too close to the tree that one might need to run away from, fly from, catch a train first class to another city, state, atmosphere that will not include torrential downpours of who the hell are you? right in the head is hard to get, but 60 minutes of intense therapy will certainly put some proper ideas in the mental rolodex wipping out old, junky unrestored feelings from before. praise the good lord, all blessings to Allah, Mary and Buddah for the gift of clarity sight abundent to the rules not followed but preached that communication was key but one must follow one's own rule. yes who is raising whom the chicken or the egg and hey rocky watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat and inadvertently throw it in your face covered with eggs scrambled like the untruth lost in space. this is how the laywer pleads his case? good luck with finding a jury of your peers to side, abide and blindly swallow the words that don't fall into place. the defendant rests your honor. no more questions, no more cross examinations 20 pages is enough to know that it's so easy to think you're right.

Tiffani C. Frost
Copyright 2005