Thinking Outside The Prompt 2… Reply

Dream Girl

I like the way you walk and I like the
way you walk when you look at me you make
me feel like I’m a boss.

You’re so fine with your beady little eyes
when you stare in mine you start to make me realizeI must be dreaming yup you’re my dream girl
how lovely to have you in my world

I must be dreaming yeah you’re my dream girl
ain’t no other way to explain the way I feel
I must be dreaming yeah you’re my dream girl
if this is true love I want to stay foreverWhen I first laid eyes on you
you made me wonder what I’d do
If I never got a hold of you
So you know I had to talk to you

In your conversation I’m enlightened in your beauty
I’m so delighted I love how your attitude is priceless
when you speak your words are never trifflin’
your confidence is unbelievable such strong independence
with a heart of gold
you got me feeling so gullible with your smile I can tell that
you’re loveable.
Girl how you make me feel
so confused like this could be real
make believe this is a fantasy
if you want me don’t play with me.Truth is you know it’s not
the way you look i’ts
the way you got my precious heart hooked
All i want to know is when you stare at me are
you using real magic cuz it’s not fair to me
you got me wrapped up like a box of presents
wrapped so tight so I’m first selected
You got me wondering why I like the things
that I like
I guess I realize it’s the light in your eyes.

-JM2 


Fina

My grandma Fina, to the
woman who was blind most of her
life, but never complained about life.

To the womean who never
smoked, drove, drank, cussed, or lied
much less crime.

My grandma Fina was a woman’s
woman. I ask what are we grandma?

she said “semos Amercianos.”I just laughed. Every time I say my
prayers I think of my grandma
She always had a rosary in her hands.

For the women of today
and tomorrow, they could never be
happy during sorrow, to the woman
who was blinded young
but never forgotten
God bless you, to have lived
to one hundred and two.

~EA


Free Write

I’m stressin’ about being released
A so called “freedom”
more like the belly of the beast.
back to responsibilities for my actions
and trying not to wind up a part of the deceased.
Can I make my moms proud?
Hell can I be a better father now?
At the same time visions of the streets
pose as a tease
to me.
6 months of waitin’ to leave with the breeze
for some reason y’all a part of me don’t want to leave.
I’m stressin’ y’all
What will I do
when I’m released
to these Burque streets…

~IM 

Don’t Ask Me About
Don’t ask me about another thing.
Don’t look at me, don’t talk
Don’t even fuckin’ breath!
Don’t make no sudden movements
you’re now a victim
of poetry!
Don’t test the restless unless you
want to die
metaphorically
I’m sick, so sick
All I need is a paper or a pencil
to express it!
An eraser to make you disappear
or my pencil to permanently
resurrect shit!
So let’s make one thing clear!

This poetic robbery is for your mind to see.
And for you mind to hear!
For you to feel my presence
yeah
that poetic guy is here!
Stand clear y’all
That poetic guy, is standing right here!~IM

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