Beauty And The Bee

By Lavance Jethro John

My voice, like honey, leads the bees to a hive.

As they dance for their sustenance, 

Like-minded in pursuit but never in desire. 

Give the aftertaste some thought….

Which side of the tongue

is brushed for a laugh, 

Or scoff or cringe? 

My voice drips confections like candymen, 

Leading you all to the

Liquid sugar of my promised land's lake… 

Keep slurping, hydrate, 

Quench the thirst that keeps me sane…  

With my tongue reaching for a mirage

Resembling the lakes I brought, not sought.  

My voice drips its sweetness 

onto the microphone,

spitting the taste of the aftershock

The boom of rhythm, an attack on the soul-tie.

And like bees, you buzz along, 

Singing and zipping as honey sends its regards. 

Is it good? 

Are you satisfied? 

See, I don't mind 

A little confection. 

Not when it has a clear direction. 

But somewhere in between honey's taste and smell, 

And the bees, 

With their restlessness,

That gave me hell, 

The taste of me evaporated, the drips which made lakes, what I came here for.

But I'm not sweet…

Now my words, that's different. 

It's the theoretics, the promise. 

But me, I'm not sweet…

No honey bathes my skin to brown from black. 

At least, not how it used to. 

So when you taste me, the real me, 

And the gift of taste-buds becomes a memory, 

Remember why I told you, 

I am not sweet….

At least, not like I used to be.

By Lavance Jethro John