Author Archives: Rg2

With your mocha lips, can this writer have a taste?
Oh, the succulence, girl, I’m leaving my truculence behind,
Something soft and tender shall tame my inner beast
Bite your finger in the dark and take a nibble of mine

A figment of your imagines am I on this Friday night
What are you doing outside the confines of my home?
Oh, supposedly you’ve a girls-night all planned out
Damn, if only your hormones-seeking-Roy didn’t roam

Back to front, inside and out, head to each tingled toe
Monday is when I first knocked on your mental door,
Tuesday I cracked it open, Wednesday I walked in
Thursday I lit the fireplace to warm your inner core

Then comes Pamper-Her-Friday, woman, I’m on you . . .
I’m in you . . . of you . . . , dammit, girl, I’m all over you,
Are we predetermined or more like predestined?
Admit it, girl, you’re thinking of me right now, is it true . . .

. . . that no other man’s touch measures anywhere near
That of the writer of this poem, why are we apart?
Careful as you pour that glass of sangria with your girls
As you bite your finger in the dark, restless is your heart

Go ahead and have giggles, sip and paint with your crew
By all means, don’t allow thoughts of Rg2 take you away,
Black-girl bonding magic works best with group appeal
Ahhh, but the afterparty is reserved for mistress-of-the-dark play

Candles, fragrance, melted chocolate, berries fresh and chilled
Tri-level thick blankets spread over the den floor,
Extended hours for sip & paint, girl, paint across my chest
Rest the cheeks atop the pecs, prepare for what’s in store . . .

The inventor of Pamper-Her-Friday at your fingertips
Tonight, but put a li’l rush before my patience wears thin,
Stop biting your finger in the dark . . . and come taste
Woman, Pamper-Her-Friday is about to begin . . . .

Come.

Rg2

______

***
Pamper the woman . . . especially on Friday after dark. -Rg2

© 2019 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

How does an impromptu breakfast by the bay sound this morning? The forecast today augurs triple digits in the Inland Valley. We’ll escape to much milder temps down by Tiera Cove. I’ve some money news I’d like to share; your morning fragrance will only enhance our come-together.

Remember back in February I mentioned my investment in Pier 1 Imports (ticker: PIR), at the time the shares were selling at a mere 70 cents per? Today a share of Pier 1 stock is demanding just shy of $8—a more than 1000% increase. I hope you kept at least some of the shares I gifted you. If so, you’re sitting on a small gold mine.

If by chance you sold early, no worries.

Another small, brick & mortar concern fallen on hard times, that has been on my investment radar, is Stein Mart Inc. (ticker: SMRT), a Jacksonville, Fla.-based specialty off-price retailer. From designer and name-brand fashion apparels to home décor merchandise to accessories and shoes at discount prices, Stein Mart sells a bevy of distinctive wares. And just this week, they announced the launch of a new Kids department—a range of apparel for babies, girls (size 2-16) and boys (size 2-20), as well as shoes and toys.

SMRT’s shares are going for only 81 cents today. I bought a grip earlier this week for 73 cents per. The shares are starting to move. Once the word gets out in force how cheap they are, the price will climb substantially. I’m adding shares next week as well.

I’m investing with you in mind. How so?

You’ve two options: I can purchase a tranche of shares for your account and you can sit on them until you’re ready to sell or I can simply split the capital gain cash, at the time I sell the shares, with you, so you can avoid the capital gain tax. You’ll profit either way . . . on one condition, however—have dinner with me tonight so I can share some additional investment news that will enhance further your weekend spirits.

And maybe I can entice you into a lingering candlelight kiss . . . and a playfully erotic Saturday tango to music of your choosing.

Facesitting optional . . . .

Cheers,
Rg2

_____

***
Pamper the woman . . . and forever live in her soul. -Rg2

© 2019 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

Say, a few hours from receipt of this e-missive
Give you, will I, ample time that you may prepare,
Pack a carrybag of the very basic necessities
Light on garments . . . and, please, let flow your hair

Your favored lotions and emollients—I’ll bring these hands
The magic of shea butter lies in how it is applied,
Woman, you’ve an appointment with this mocha man ointment
Tonight I will succeed where other men have only tried

To elicit those long-contained moans from my pheromones
Bottled up far too long have been your erotic instincts,
Unleash your spiritual shouts as I skin-instigate you thereabouts
Provoked by the intrigue of peach schnapps-infused drinks

A hideaway nestled in the lush, tropical forestry
Lung-cleansing oxygen produced by evergreen millenial trees,
We’ll leave the tensions of rapidly gentrifying city life
In-the-buff night swims, oh yes, in the gentle evening breeze

There’s therapy in letting go, woman, this writer should know
Countless hours I’ve studied sexology and touch-ology text,
Though re-enactments are futile when there lacks chemistry
No such problem we’ll have as I show you what’s next:

From-neck-to-ankle bites is how I take it to new heights
Part passive, part aggressive, woman, request your dare,
And if so sweet and fruity is the aroma of the booty
Behold, I may very well refuse to come up for air

You laugh? Go ahead and laugh, for I’m the diligent type
Facilitating her satisfaction comprises my DNA,
Not every woman, mind you, is so fortunate
A precious few have inspired me to gift it away

But there lives this something in the interior of you
And, damn, that luscious exterior is a bonus to boot,
I promise to leave no marks as visual implication
Your reputation as my own? That point is not moot

A romantic three-day weekend beckons us both
Let’s give this summer’s end its proper send-away,
May the time go slow as I bathe you in candleglow,
We’ve only just begun this Pamper-Her-Friday. . .

. . . tonight.

-Rg2

_______

***
Pamper the woman . . . for an unforgettable summer’s romance. -Rg2

© 2019 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

Just long enough to escape with you from North America
To an as-yet-unspoiled paradise of forest, sand and beach,
Where coconuts and bananas grow free from chemicals
My love, a Pamper-Her-Friday utopia is not out of reach

Our flight departs at nine; I’ll be at your doorstep by six
I’m bringing with me a generous hug and a kiss,
If you found yourself smiling as you read that previous line
Woman, you’ve just been enraptured by the Rg2 bliss:

To instigate, not regurgitate, the gray matter of your mind
A seasoned man can make love to a woman without touch,
You’ve been reading my proseworks with many a bated breath
The moisture in your eyes and between your thighs is such

A long-held spritz of latent energy needing release
You’re that mocha woman on whom everyone depends,
The Democratic Party takes you for granted, as does family
Your bones are fragile and, late nights, the muscle ache begins

You know why? The very absence of my therapeutic hands
Has been the antidote you’ve too long gone without,
I’m just the man your body’s been calling for this summer
To pamper your tender limbs is a precious law I won’t flout

Let’s get away . . . from all this domestic terrorism and hate
The country needs more of you and me but, gosh, timeout,
I wanna gather my breath with you, take a moment or two
To revisit what being in the company of a lovely woman’s about

The tropical sunrise greets us in the morning as we lay
Your head rested peacefully atop my chest—angel-like,
Toucans and songbirds morning chirping in the distance
Daybreak poetry I’ll recite to you like a whisperer on a mic

Dedicated to you, only you, it goes something like this:
Were I to inhale the scent of your hair, woman, I dare,
To caress thee, might you hold onto me to infinity
In need of love repair, we both, for truly we care

None more than I of you . . . here, in my arms, I say
No other place I’d rather be on this Pamper-Her-Friday

. . . than with you.

Poetically yours,
Rg2

______

***
Pamper the woman . . . and forever live in her soul. -Rg2

© 2019 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

That was my initial thought after you at first accepted, then abruptly reneged on your acceptance of my creative-poem challenge to you in behalf of long-overdue reparations for ADOS (American Descendants of Slavery).

I thought to myself, ‘What kind of honorable man goes back on his word, especially for a cause as noble as economically, politically and socially repairing the most forgotten, neglected and mistreated people in the history of the United States, since its very founding?’

I then said to myself, ‘Marianne Williamson can’t possibly be more courageous and more committed to the humanity of ADOS than Dr. Dyson, himself a member of the ADOS community and who traces his very lineage to our uber-brave forebears, the enslaved black Americans whose free labor is the very foundation on which the American economy is built.”

I quelled my emotionalism, Dr. Dyson. Who am I to mischaracterize another man, let alone a fellow ADOS? To say I was disappointed, however, is an understatement. I looked forward to the fun. But more than that? I looked forward to the gift we would have presented to our fellow ADOS—poetry the likes of which no other two individuals, the world over, could have created.

My greatest sadness? That other ADOS, and non-ADOS around the world for that matter, were deprived of your creative advocacy, if only a few stanzas of rhyme and meter, of lyrical alchemy at which even your boy Jay-Z would have likely marveled.

But I won’t question your courage, Dr. Dyson. I won’t question your heart and commitment to the repair of our fellow ADOS. I recognize this is yeoman’s work, arguably the most unenviable task of our people in this most turbulent of political times.

It’s not for the faint of heart. ADOS are on the verge of extinction, according to the data. We could certainly use your advocacy.

No, you’re no coward, Dr. Dyson. If, however, you decide to remove our doubt, my challenge to you is open-ended.

People can evolve, right?

Spit on, professor. Upward and onward.

Creative regards,
Rg2

_______

***
Be afraid to die without having done something for the betterment of humanity. -Rg2

© 2019 Romance by Rg2®

Flowing summer dress, white, adorning your mocha body
Reserved, have I, a space only paces from Lovers Lake,
Edibles and romantic incredibles I’ve prepared for us
Flower arrangement touches I took the time to make

Granted, I’m no florist nor exactly a horticulturist
I’ve kept it as simple as a summer’s evening breeze,
Clarity of mind I intend to engender in us both
Your heart’s been locked all summer but I’ve the keys

To the inner reaches of your most intimate thoughts
You wanna free yourself of those failed loves of the past,
A fresh-over, a do-over, woman, you need a new lover
Babygirl, my hand is slow, methodical, it’s hardly fast

Take it, will you, place it gently astride your soft skin
By all means, rest your chin inside my palms awhile,
You need not say a word if your voice escapes you
I can interpret the language in your closed eyes and smile

Yes, woman, I feel you, this is pure synchronicity
Might there be a confession or two you’d like to reveal?
Mine? I’ve been anticipating the texture of your lips
To kiss a handsome stranger may be the ultimate thrill

What, you don’t kiss on the first date? Aww, shucks, now
Behold, woman, I’m no ordinary fella, this is Rg2,
Never have I coerced a woman into her discomfort
I’d much rather elicit what it is we’re here to do:

Consume champagne, sweet fruits, and one another
Holding you as we watch the summer evening sun descend,
Careful, woman, you may not want to leave my arms
Isn’t it a shame that Pamper-Her-Friday has to end?

Then again . . .

. . . intimacy is even better when dusk sets in . . . .

Yours,
Rg2

______

***
Pamper the woman . . . and her soul belongs to you. -Rg2

© 2019 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

Shoreline table, seats for two at sunset’s low tide
That I may gaze deeply into her optic nerve,
To gauge whether she cares for her oppressed people
Is she a straight-shooter for justice, or might she swerve

When the reparations fight becomes rough and tumble
I want the woman to clasp my hand that much tighter,
“Baby, we will get to the other side together”
A mocha warrioress, damn, that’s sexy, my co-fighter

I need a soft, strong, resilient ADOS woman tonight
Sexual relations, I’ll show her, are not my aim,
But to share strategies for the liberation of our people
That our fires for ADOS redress is mutual—the same

Might a man be so lucky, what, in this sell-your-soul time?
Would she understand that these are days of grace,
My shoulder is a welcome haven for her tender head
It’s quite alright were she to slap my bearded face

For entertaining taking anything less than $15 trillion
Federal protection of our tribe, a census ‘ADOS’ box,
Both an online and offline dedicated economic base
Healthcare that includes as-much-as-needed mental detox

From the centuries-long Post Traumatic Bondage Disorder
Lurking within our wounded-walking and the half-asleeps,
That she sees the homeless are looking more & more like us
That freedom must be repeatedly seized—or away it creeps

Given to others who have in no way endureth
Why have they been bequeathed our ancestors’ wealth?
More than 200 years of uncompensated labor
Mocha woman, we are the disinheritors . . . by stealth:

Crooked laws, avarice, integrity-less leadership
Our righteous claim is myth and hear-say no more,
Our forebears’ bones are kindling to this ADOS fire
A hastily written “universal” campaign pledge: What for?

A mocha ADOS woman, Heavenly Matchmaker, yes
Who’ll accept my hand for a second date—post-Reparation,
No, she won’t owe me another, but that ocean beckons
From agony . . . to ecstasy, to the joy and jubilation

But should this be our one and only summer’s night
Carry my heart, ADOS woman, as you make your way,
To a future for which our ancestors sacrificed their lives
Until we meet again, same table, on Pamper-Her-Friday

Love in the Struggle,
Rg2

______

***
Pamper the woman . . . and repaireth her soul. -Rg2

© 2019 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

Could it be we’re a never-satisfied people? Might it be that she’s seeking an elusive nirvana with him that she, alone, can’t seem to self-generate? Or are our ever-amped expectations of love on the edge of a constant lie?

I haven’t the answers, babygirl. I’m no psychoanalyst. But I am a poet. And, woman, I believe in love. My belief comes with precautions, however. Well, one in particular: How does it feel in my company . . . on a spontaneous picnic . . . on a random summer’s day . . . at the edge of a cliff overlooking a calm, deep, blue sea?

My poem for you:

Rest your body atop my soft-to-touch blanket
Hand-stitched so as not to damage the fragrant grass,
The air’s velocity is tender, so we may share the splendor
A summertime moment has come for us, it has

Tell me where your heart lies at this time, woman
No, the question isn’t loaded—I’m just being real,
Is it on the verge of migration from a cruel host
Few men can interpret a woman’s capacity to feel

Vulnerable yet strong . . . and fragile yet stern
Willing to love, though much less so to trust,
If you entered his life, and he yours, in a haze
The premise was false: relationship or bust?

Nah, babygirl, that mustn’t be how love goes
I can speak from experience, I’ve made mistakes,
I regret not sharing a simple, elegant picnic with her
Having written, alone, my poetry by the ponds and lakes

That have since dried up from a benign neglect
Summer rain, by God, has replenished a few,
I promised myself were I to cross the path
Of a distinctive woman, I’d know just what to do . . .

Slowly, maturely, less cautiously would I
Allow her my company and the privilege of hers,
To share the warmth of an early summer sun
That she may release her truths and if that occurs

Mine, too, will be less inhibited to pour
Into the summertime air that we share on a cliff,
The seaside view we can freely speak into
Just breathe on me girl as I take a slow, deep whiff

Of your fragrance and a gaze into your story-filled eyes
My name is Roy, as was my father’s, too,
May I feed you the comestibles I brought—and my prose
I’m an emotional writer, girl, may I emote on you?

Like no other man alive can, I swear I can
Relinquish those fears you’ve harbored overlong,
If love letters are foreign to you, that neglect is past
Consider this poem the first of a throng . . .

Slowly, maturely, less cautiously can we
Introduce ourselves to one another and say,
It’s okay, it’s truly okay to befriend this writer
Over a cliff’s-edge picnic on Pamper-Her-Friday

Will you join me?

-Rg2

________

***
Pamper the woman . . . for a summer’s romance. -Rg2

© 2019 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

But before I unleash this intense-yet-tame testosterone upon every crevice, nook and cranny of your mocha body, I’d appreciate your ear on an idea that has consumed my creative mind all day.

Michael Eisner, the former head of Disney global, once said the best ideas can be expressed in a sentence. Here’s mine, love: A make-up/lipstick consumer, in the market to buy, clicks on the Pamper-Her-Friday video channel, to gaze at the latest cosmetics made just for her. On her phone/tablet/desktop, her face appears on the screen; a hologram of her face’s exact dimensions, along with samples of make-up/lipstick, some her favorite brands, others new.

She, via virtual/augmented reality, “tries on” the various products to determine the perfect shade, gloss, hue and/or tint for her unique face. Boom: she chooses what looks best and clicks to purchase product. No need to visit a brick/mortar store to buy the product(s); no gas wasted on a drive to the mall.

The hologram, which is an exact replica of her face, reflects her cosmetic choices for trial. She chooses and buys exactly what she wants without mistake and without having to return an ill-chosen product.

What do you think, love? I’ve already applied for a patent of the idea—it wasn’t yet conceived/taken. Once cleared, we’ll be sitting on a handsome revenue-generator for years and years to come.

This is the age of ideas, after all. And I have another that will presage this cloudy, overcast, unusually cool, Southern California evening before us, this first official day of the summer season: How about I split the patent profits down the middle with you . . . on one condition?

That I may nestle in-between those thick, sweet-scented thighs of yours into the night . . . and simply refuse to come up for air?

Unless I just have to . . .

. . . on Pamper-Her-Friday.

Please come, love.

-Rg2

***
Pamper the woman . . . for beginning a summer’s romance. -Rg2

© 2019 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®