Alvin Lloyd Alexander Horn's Page

TO ALL POETIC WARRIORS

N YOUR RIDE

Your poems picked me up
I'm riding along for the trip
I ain't getting out
I’m getting off on how smooth you roll out
You got thoughts… that roll on paper like a 1950's Cadillac rolls down hill
Your verses got chrome bumpers leading to perspectives I haven’t seen or heard of
I hear the AM radio, the station at the end of the dial
The rare cuts are played
So many artists got hits, and no one has ever heard them
Soul is spoken
I'm spread out in the passen… Continue

I Miss My Boom Box, by Alvin Lloyd Alexander Horn © 2009
Dropping beats down to the ground
As I strolled through the park
My boom box sends shock waves of hip notes to the sky
Dual cassette dubbing and mixed tapes of my own groove
Speakers shouting hip dancing funk
Reloading new 6x9 speakers because,
Som… Continue

Plastic People
Injected into a thinly veiled mold of sincerity

From outdated thoughts arise phony ploys of true friendship

Lacking creative controls over lies and plots

Game are often played, with silly childish levels of getting over

Aretha Franklin sings about, “All The Lonely People Where Do They All Come From”

Plastic People, seek positions of importance in your life because they can’t seem to find joy in their own existence, they need you to help complete them

They play… Continue

I RODE DOWN THE LONELY HI-WAY
With the top down, the sounds of the ocean waves mixed with the soul of my 8 track player
Michael Jackson crooned, “I Wanna Be Where You Are”
My Blues bled into the dark sky
My eyes were on the road but, I see her at every mile marker, and with every star that sparkled above
I pushed on the gas as my heart raced
Where am I going?
Anywhere she might be
Teasing my soul hoping she was headed to me
Whoooo… I took that corner too fast
Slow down and live with the memories… Continue

Get-On…Get Off
In my dreams…the switch is turned on
She and I removed our helmets
We kissed while we rolled-on in first gear
Released our cruise controls
Played freeway tag, touching each others rear
Changed lanes in and out and around each other
Weaving foreplay
Downshifted into the mating game
I watched you ride as if you were tight on a pole
Work that ride baby
Your intake make me comes on hard
Hot road underneath us
We sweat in our leathers; it’s well oiled down there
In my dreams…we hit the… Continue