Thoughts of The Neptunian

I am not a Martian, I hail from Neptune as they say. To the contrary however I am as warm as sunlight running the sides of this planet we call Earth. Females seek my warmth, miles away, yearning to be comforted by a body of familiarity. How is it I am much further and distant, but you relate? How is it you yourself are so cold? Is it because females hail from the heat driven planet of Venus, stranded...on this rock we cal Earth. They are chilled and misunderstood from the male domination running ice trails, from Mars. This rock is warmth so they adapt and made for each other these species are. What sets me apart...being from much colder depths, analyzing this ‘alien’ species they call humans...and in deeper depths what they call ‘female’. Emotional creatures they are...seeking my adaption of warmth, companionship, my understanding of them and taking advantage of the intent to learn more, to listen to every cipher of sound that is muddled from their mouths. Using my ‘foreign’ abilities to build dams across their eyes to eradicate the meaning of cry. With reflexes faster than light catching each every drop of love and care that drips from their lips? Where I am from we waste nothing, so why should this treasure...be any different. Using my super hearing to hear the calls for help within, without her needing to say a word...is this what they conflict with being near me. Do I scare you...or do I simply reflect what you are missing...Segregation or alienation of my presence is inevitable...Maybe you are simply alien...to your needs. I can be blinded and still see.

By: Tyrone Alcorn, Jt.
Definition Of Nice

Man-less Fathers

In 2013, I feel shame that my sisters straight attracted to a brother because at nearly 23 I am kid-free...
As in it comes at no shock I keep it old school, I am no fool.  
I keeps it tight hat on straight all night. With a business plan and a limitless ambition I am a black male on a mission.  
M.O.B! and no disrespect to the ladies, but the phrase is in reference to the realization that I’m working like a dog. Obedient to my goals and keeping One man as owner, God, my best friend.  
Fresh as my wingman and never less than perfect with the set up...Fed up these ladies are with the same, till I give them my usual name, and conversations that spark their brain, and give the heart a change.  
You want to feel me, but afraid of another, fear that I’ll be every other brother.  Giving out a taste of young wisdom in poetic terms, metaphors skim light like the epiderm...is it fair that you ask to stroke my ego as my equal, when I’d rather stroke your mind till your lips queef...words of disbelief...
In the recognition of your lonesome, you want me wholesome.  
In a high tone you scream you want to hold my life seed and I took heed to my mamas word.  These females leave you stuck like mud. Beauty is a blinder and lust is like opium in bud.  
Ironically I don’t do drugs, and though my hands dirty I stay fresh as a stud.  
It is not my due blessing to get caught in that cycle, Never blinded by the beautiful psychos, a good shot at life so never misfiring the rifle.  
It seems I'm trying to teach, they yell preach! but why bother? 
In a lesson so many have forgotten, 
[I need to become a Man before I ever become a father.] 

Ty The DON.

Destiny

Her love for poetry is emotional
The arts are simply her story untold
If these words creep into the depth of her soul
Who am I to know?
She would never let it show,
In life's reality she is an enigma
Like myself I see her persona as a stigma
In a world cold with judgements
Her uniqueness is a social annulment
It is the words she will come to grow with
The picture will bless her with a kiss
And in ignorant bliss
Be the depth she falls in love with...
The Arts are simply her story untold
Her love for poetry is exceptional
More than any addiction defined by medical
These passions lie dormant
Waiting for words spoken
Deeply awoken,
By a sculpture she will come to make love to
Stanzas she will marry to,
And play cool with rhyme schemes she can finally listen to
The arts ...are her story waiting to unfold
And her love for poetry...will be her destiny.

By: Tyrone Alcorn, Jr.

Definition Of Nice