Saturday, November 12, 2016


I need you to free me...own me...victimize me; 

See, because I'm searching
for love poems. 
And I know I can find them where your lips trace kisses that outline my shape as if u'r a sketch artist. 

When I want inspiration
your eyes are motivation when you 
stare n2 me,  
letting me know you're n2 me ; 
I welcome your entering... 
my intellect
reviving my thought process. 
You are the better version of myself ,
so, that makes you my auto biography. 
Words unspoken leave my pen w/everything 
2 say
until metaphors morph n2 syntax errors & similes run off the edge of the paper. 

I labor for your pleasure, 
sacrificing beads of sweat for
an offering, 
making your body an altar 
for my prophetic calling
to create you lyrically; 
because your poetry
is Gospel...

© 2016 Imprese


What I thought was a gun was just his bloody pen laughing,
taunting me with distraction.
“Don’t you know who I am?!?” he kept asking.
“I am the inescapable fate of self-hate. I scurry in the shadows of doubt. I am the dance of self-destruction, forfeiting your identity when I come.”
I suddenly started choking on insecurity & couldn’t breathe.
I started crying and fighting, till finally I collapsed in agony.
 In the midst of my weakness I pleaded, “Why are you here for me?”

“I know you fear me. I am here to suffocate your creativity”.
 I  reached for my pen & pad I had covered in lime to prevent rotting, but my body started throbbing when he grabbed me and attacked me with flashes of my past, unmasked impurities.
I tried to run but, I kept tripping over my have-nots, my should’ve-beens & my never-meant-to-bes. Now I’m hurting and feeling worthless & again I collapse in agony. Finally, I cried out to GOD to rescue me.
He spoke to me and said “I’m sending my soldier Harvey”.

Now suddenly this entity that held me began to tremble. The foundation shook and there Harvey stood with his pen & pad, I mean his sword & staff, bringing the dance of the warrior.
He slayed the darkness and kept his heart as a warning.
All at once, I could breathe, but still felt weak.
Then Harvey stripped me and covered my body in loose-leaf and began to write. My blood churned and turned into ink.
Then I could feel it, the lyrics, boiling in the pit of my stomach, waiting for me to spit them up.
“Just one more touch.” He held my hand and singed my palms with his fingertips.
With my skin still burning, he commanded me to write.
My words rained fire onto the pages & he told me to swallow the ashes.
I began to glow and Harvey asked, “Now who’s the Master”?
I replied, “I am…”
He said, “Sho-nuff”…

And that’s how I defeated WRITER’S BLOCK…

©2016 Impresse 

Saturday, October 8, 2016

Hip Hop

Hip Hop verses birth words that urge murder
& discharged nickel-plated bitch lyrics from
nigger mortis tongues...
Microphone check one

Rec execs slip chains around the necks of plantatn MCs,
Black face rat race shufflin like Steppin Fetchit
content to fit in hauling buckets full of platinum bullshit for label pimps;
Jack be nimble, Jack be too quick trickin for a deal to sign.
Hip Hop is no longer about the righteousness of the rhyme;
it's about the ice, make a mill, keep a bill & use the rest to pay back te advance.
Understand the industry's plan is to destroy
the TRUE NATURE of Hip Hop...
The "Yes, yes y'all & you don't stop" 
See REAL MCs be microphone fiends...

Microhone check two
It's time to get back to the roots, the real, the raw, pure unadulterated lyrical rage, two turntables & a microhone stage.
Dope ass beats that rock the spot & groove ya ass whether u like it or not...

Microhone check three
Roll Call
Chief Rocker Busy Bee, Run DMC, Afrikan Bambaataa & The Zulu Nation, KRS One, Common Sense, Black Thought, DJ Kool Herc, Guru, Q-Tip, Yo-Yo, Lady Of Rage, Roxanne Shante, MC Lyte, Dead Prez, Da Roots, Dougie Fresh, Rakim, Sugar Hill, Mia X, The Queen...

True Hip Hop is the unruffled voice of the masses.
Fuck these two-bit ass rappers that wouldn't have lyrics if it wasn't for sampling...


Monday, May 9, 2016


It’s spring again.
Knowing again this is the time to begin again,
feeling easy & free;
moving cool like lips over ice cream.
Curves enticing warm breezes to tease my skin
winds sneak underneath the hem of my dress
exposing just enough
of my soul
to the sun
paint me ultravioletly the color of honey so…
I’m glowing again.
Grew wings and planted trees in flower pots during the winter
so I could fly high when spring came around again.
Walking on clouds with manicured toes
watching for rain
fall like perfume for the flowers
and shower giant oaks with green afros.
Gonna sit underneath & let the velvet grass beneath
envelope me like the kiss of emerald from a thousand lips
and sip pomegranate tea
cipher with the bees
while humming bird wings scribe lines to my poetry

The universe knows its me
when I send vibrations thru my pen
cuz I’m connected to my gift
like my hand’s connected to my wrist;
gravity reverse
as I conjugate verbs
and manipulate words
cuz my cipher’s connected to this earth.
Call me Gaia
cuz I give birth to new beginnings
and creativity
and new theories to relativity

Seasons change at the mere mention of my name
Mother, Goddess, Queen
The universe knows it me,
when I send vibrations thru my pen.

Impresse ©2014

Sunday, December 13, 2015


Last night, 
you felt like jazz.
Ur fingertips improvised complicated vamps & rifts in the key of ecstasy.
U made my heart beat in swing,
keeping Count with ur kisses like Bassie.

I tasted ur composition
on my lips.
U wrote 8 bars of a love song on my tongue
with no lyrics;
because we were speechless.

With the moon as our witness,
the stars danced to our rhythm.
And the night wind tried to mimic our emotion,
but it was encoded like;
"Ski bi di bi di do bap do
Do bam do" ...

U harmonized 
with my bass line
& my treble clef trembled in staccato
from the tempo of your percussion.
Made me wanna blow 
ur trumpet 
like Miles, 
as in Davis.

let's press last night's soulful memory in vinyl.
then, we can replay it on an old turntable;
or maybe
download it digitally 
onto an ITune 
& put it on repeat.
And we can hum our melody whenever we wanna remember JAZZ...

©Impresse 2015

Saturday, January 10, 2015

A Poetic Conversation

*Silence falls heavy*
*I find my wave*

I miss the days of Miles Davis & John P. Kee,
When there was no FACEBOOK, Instagram... or mobile T.V.
JUST...U N ME...
the screens I was longing to see...

Admittedly... In today's world of technology,
I've over indulged in touchscreens.
So I couldn't see
the cyberspace between us.
Let's make up
the algorithms to reconnect;
& I promise to disconnect my profile...
just to focus on your smile;
we sit quietly
spoken silence mixes with Miles & Stevie
weaving images of chocolate chip kisses laced with Bitches Brew...
U knew
the me I was
inbox messages;
So, let's recapture images
without camera phone clicks or downloading memories thru Instagram selfies...
Just u & me
in real organic sensations.
Like, soft-lipped kisses on fingertips,
lingering embraces that leave Dolce & Gabbana traces on my ear lobe
spontaneous pecks on your collar bone...
Just to remind us...
that human touch is beautiful...
And the you that is me
And the me that is you...
is altogether
wonderfully symmetrical...

SO if I "Like" you....
will you "Poke" me back;
like we used to before the damn I Mac?
Give me face time... at a five n dime, while I buy u cheap trinkets, that'll make u smile.
We can reconnect, without internet.
Let me touch YOU, not yo screen....
come HERE,  gimme yo neck.
U see cold lemonade, on a warm front porch.....thts what I MISS.....
I would wait until you sipped, before I asked for a kiss....
Now its OMG, & LOL......GTFOOH WITH THIS!!
Don't you send me NO MORE selfies!
NOT another BLACK and WHITE pic...
What you can DO, is slide in a CD, while we vibe to a lil Slick Rick! ;-)
Hehe, ha ha, ctfu....thts what weve become.
Im only allowed so many there.....NOW IM DONE.

Of course I "Like" you... I checked the box that said "Yes" on the sheet of loose-leaf u gave me;
along with the sandwich bag full of penny candy.
Reminding me of that ol school Mary J "Real Love"
When you would slip a touch
on the small of my back;, the back of my neck
the round of my hips...
Instead of responding back
to emails & texts.
Maybe we can connect turning pages of a book in our faces
as we share space with sunrays & rap a taste
on Kush & Kemet, modern day hip hop prophets & our favorite incense.
Communicating in our native tongue is what I miss...
Now everybody speaks in hashtags, anagrams & abbreviated sentences.
So, maybe we can use the moon to illumintate our kiss;
Poetic lips
composing 8 bar lyrics beneath the stars;
That's who we really who we are...
So let's get back to basics,
You & me baby are a simple equation...
  2 Lovers
©2014 Tyrone Moore/Impresse
All Rights Reserved