Recently in The Spoken Word Category

(Inhale deeply)
(Exhale deeply)
(Inhale deeply)
(Exhale deeply)

As I lay there breathing by the rhythm of his breath
The inside lining to the curve of his “S”
I reminisce on what has brought us here to
This time
This space
This juncture
A place where we are so much one
It is hard to tell where my heart ends and his blood flow begins.

.

Myla has been gracing FLOW gatherings with her verses over the past year. She capitivated our audience at the 2006 Harlem Book Fair Relationship Panel with "For the Bitch Who Stole My Husband." She enthralled us at the Intimate Engagements Botique in New Jersey with "Sexually Me." She gave us pause at the Hue-Man Book Store in Harlem with "My God I Loved You So." "My Poetry, My Words (shown above) is her book of poetry . Check out Myla at future FLOW forums and in the Spoken Word category on this site along with other spoken word artists

Chameleon

With me you love to romance
with her you take a chance
mistress or missus
which one am I
questioning your dangerous dance

Will you go or will you stay
easily led astray
a fool on love
torn in half
hearts broken day after day

When I’m sad color me blue
If I’m glad paint me too
orange-kissed sunshine
watermelon brightness
emotional mix-ups taint my hue

Myla Jones–2002

From the "Mo" Blues Collection:

It's Simple

Why do you take things to the level that you do?
You are always trying to fit the wrong shoe!
You take a small thing I say and turn it into a mountain
You keep spewing out remarks, like a dog gone fountain!

You're too deep, baby
You take it too far, sugar
You pull it apart, honey
When it's simple
My love is simple!

The Ninth Wonder

You’re a wonder, Black man
as I watch you
entranced
by your color
your mind
your physique

How unique
you are
a treasure
by far
of nature’s best
packaged just for a Queen

My Poetry My Words

I’ve got my poetry and my words
when understanding is fleeting
and in your shoes no one can stand
when heartbreak is so resounding
people can hear you coming before the train
my poetry my words
become a therapeutic massage soothing
while the pain is oozing onto ink-stained pages
or is that my mascara from my tearful stages
refusing to stop although I promised not
to cry anymore with
my poetry my words?
Too old for this melancholy I am
with no one to blame no one to damn
not innocence
not youth
nor being new to the game
this time both I’s
–wide open–
walked we

My God I Loved You So

Beautiful memories of you and I
never releasing or letting go
we created such lasting images
my God how I loved you so

Walking through parks at midnight
sharing intimate thoughts and plans
thinking it would last forever
never giving in to time’s demands

Then one day you said we were no longer
that I was solo now
saying you would still love me forever
all I wondered was, how?

How could you capture someone’s heart,
then allow it to roam so freely?
How could you build such intimacy and trust
and just like that release me?

Miss Trust

Trust is a big word
–huge even–
it contains the beginning of truth
yet it ends in rust
leading me to wonder if all that is not false
will eventually
corrode

Once upon a time I trusted in a man
who abused my trust my innocence
my powerlessness my overall need to rely
on him
he touched what was private
something belonging only to me
then he denied the whole matter
calling it a mistake–simply

Sexually Me

They say loving sex makes you a whore
They say loving sex makes you a whore
I say loving sex just makes you a sexy lover
Sexually speaking is what this poem is really about
Because there is no doubt that I love sexxxx
If that statement makes me a whore
Then I say I’ll wear that fucking label
Because I come from a line of women
Who were forced to use their sexuality
In order to become and remain free
From the virgins in Africa who wanted to be bride of some rich king
To escape a life of poverty
To my ancestors who sexed the master’s during slavery
In order to keep together their families

For _________

Sometimes I wonder exactly what it is
that has me under your spell
after all lately
it's not as if you treat me so wonderfully
on the contrary
what used to be
is what I hope for
live each day for
believing that those days will return to me once more

You see, you used to be good to me good to me
good to me
if I repeat it maybe it will be good for me
to remember the good part
of a relationship
that seems to have jumped ship
man overboard while woman
takes the helm