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Derrick Blue Wilson

of

Harlem, NY, US

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The Password Is Yes...

by

Derrick Blue Wilson

I don't want the bread, I want the butter
I don't want the coffee, I want the sugar
SEX
Never constituted as a means of an even exchange for money
It does not pay the bills!
Yet hypocritical I'm standing here thinking,
what's the purpose of my right hand when I can call you???
Let me find out that you're in the centerfolds of my magazines and I'm up!
I marvel over the magic and beauty of your body

Sugar you are thick
D E L U X E ! ! !

Tonight, we can sleep with the lights on
and your voice will be that song that vibrates in my stomach
Thunder is a light word
and it would do no justice if I tried to describe
the impression you left on me

I guess the only reason that I never dream about you
Is because I stay up all night
Just thinking about you

Your thoughts are my thoughts and they must be wrapped in wool
because they make me sweat
Touch me with your bath water and I'll confess all of my thoughts

I'll even die for the ones that other men contemplate when they see your face
Call me selfish, but I just can't imagine the thought of you being embraced by another and he's touching that thing,
That thing you just said belongs to me
Y O U R V E E E E E !
You make my screams of passion go past the heavens and they echo in orbit
It's like I receive messages from distant galaxies and I have visions of falling stars
You must be the architect that designed orgasm with the
foundation built on lust
I'll keep the BLUE prints to it all locked in my heart
And the Password Is Yes!!!
Southern Belle the money is on the dresser
I'll keep the receipt under my pillow
And the next time I call, you'll know it's me
Because all I'll say is yes

Good Morning

by

Derrick Blue Wilson

Don't get me wrong
The coffee is good
Even the bagels are great
They just can't compare to your smile
It's like a horizontal moon
It has put a bounce in my step
and added pleasure to my days
That's why I decided to take the long way to work today
Just to greet you with a smile
And tell you, "Good Morning"

Don't spend more than one dollar to bury me!

by

Derrick Blue Wilson

Don't know where I'll spend my last breath
But if you don't do anything else tonight
Just remember this voice
Just remember that this body is nothing but a suit
It’s something that I slipped into so I could mingle among the general public
for a short length of time
And once it expires, this skin will return to the essence
So if you were wise
You wouldn't spend more then one dollar to bury me
You would be better off going to the nearest corner store
Get a cardboard box and flip me in it
And if that's too much to ask of you, then leave me where you found me and I'll soak into the earth like road kill
Just don't get pimped by the funeral parlor when they try to
convince you
that you got to spend your hard earned money to send me off to a better place
And there's no proof that I'm going to get there
Heaven and Hell is a condition!
Something that you experience while you are living

The after life is a myth that was spoon fed to the masses of
black people
So that we would always have that

"Turn the other cheek mentality"

Now here we are walking in the hood like passive vegetarians,
Being consumed by carnivores in this land of the lost
Call me the F-O-U-L bird when I say make money players
Learn to play this American game,
Feed YO face and your family

And keep your collection plate money
in your pocket or spend it on the living

Because the dead can't do a damn thing with it!!!

Hope?

by

Derrick Blue Wilson

Hope is this four-letter word that was spoon-fed to the hungry
Done in an effort to sustain their hunger, temporarily
It's similar to welfare, It's like getting just enough but it's never enough to get you over the hump of the every day living
Yet in the meantime we continue to trot back and forth to that high priced belligerent bodega on the corner

That's where the clerk behind the counter is considered cool, just because his name is Muhammad and he'll let you go for a penny when you're short

Muhammad doesn't mind because he's going to get the penny right back as soon as he charges 99 cents for a particular product and the big shots are always too busy to wait for their change

Muhammad is the man and he always washes his hands before he prays_
You just have to remind him to wash his hands as soon as he comes out the bathroom and he tries to make you a sandwich

This bodega is the first stop in the morning for the students that attend the middle school right across the street
They go there for the salt and sugar sandwich because they're kosher and they get a glow-in-the dark soda for an extra fifty cents
Then there's Mrs. Wilson, the 7th grade teacher
And she can never figure out why the students are always so sleepy so early in the morning
Especially her pet student, Wanda

Wanda is 13 going on 30 and that fits right into the family budget because Wanda and her mother have the same taste in clothing and I guess that's why she's caught the eye of her mother's boyfriend
That creep sits around all day with a dingy straw hat on
And a cheap leisure suit in the middle of October
He has a gold tooth in the middle of his mouth and he smiles all day just to show that gold tooth off!!!

This guy is always mumbling under his breath about how he thinks Wanda is built like a brick and he said it's got to be something in the milk "because milk does the body good"
I can hear the drama take place each morning from the family that lives above me
They live in the basement,
I live underneath them!!!
I live next door to the devil
And he has a dog that he loves more than he loves himself
He never cleans up after the dog
He leaves the dog shit right in the doorway, hoping to give me good luck for the following weeks
Sometimes I work the graveyard shift and the same faces I see at night, I see in the morning_Chilling!

That's what the guys on the corner call it
And out of fear that if they move, they might fall off the face of the earth
So they stand there all day and night just passing time and telling tales about how they were running things when they were locked down up north
And I'm thinking to myself, why don't they run the locker room lawyers off the street that are so convinced that the same Jesus that walked the earth 2000 years ago
Is going to walk bare footed down Malcolm X Blvd and resurrect the dead
If he is, he must have changed his name to Je'sus
And he likes to wear his hat turned to the back with his pants hanging off his ass
I think that's ass backwards but hey, that's Je'sus
Je'sus has got to come at night like they prophesied because if he comes in the morning all the crack heads will still be asleep and they'll be mistaken for dead
(And then they're going to miss their blessing)

But up until then, the drug kingpins will be the spokesmen for the neighborhood
And they're going to help us lead a protest against police misconduct
The only problem is the guys from Brooklyn don't want to go to Harlem and the guys from Harlem don't want to go to Brooklyn

And it seems the only common ground that they share is that they thought that the Bronx Zoo was located in Queens
In the midst of all this confusion, tourist came through the hood on a tour bus
And they start looking at us like they couldn't believe that we could speak
Then from out of nowhere comes a bum and he tries to squeegee the bus window
Then bus driver gets upset and a fight breaks out!
With all of the confusion the tourist looked at us like we only communicated through singing and dancing...
But we worked it out and we went for a bite to eat
Me, the squeegee man, the tourists
We had macaroni with cheese, collard greens, and corn bread and it was all stuffed inside of a work boot.
Now that's what I call sole food...
I wrote this poem with no shirt on standing in front of a mirror practicing facial expressions.
I was home alone and there was no fear of my being seen.
But it's these kinds of thoughts that help me maintain my sanity
Maybe one day we can all meet in space and let our minds collide, providing that we give each other some space from time to time.
Because time is the author of life and life is for the living and when we meet again we'll live it up like we did the last time
But up until then... "B"
I'm going back around the block and wait for Je’sus_We got this protest going and we're trying to get the street named after him
Peace!

Evolution

by

Derrick Blue Wilson

Sweet Brown Sugar has always been considered a hot commodity and prior to my neighborhood being gentrified, you would have men from the suburbs risk their lives for a piece;

They would tiptoe through Harlem like a thief in the night Producing High yellow babies that could pass for white

So these girls from the suburbs got big butts now_
They like hip-Hop music and Usher, getting on the dance floor and dropping it like it's hot while speaking in Ebonics talking 'bout "I hear that"
That's called evolution_
To Be continued