2016: EB POETS EXERCISE XCVI
Everyday I lay on the wooden floor
Wishing I wasn’t birth poor.
The Prince is much handsome
I will give myself to have some,
Of his riches that would heal mama’s health
Papa won’t farm till death
A wishful thinking I told my seed named Seth.
I seduced his toes till he got sore
Climax awaited his peak and shook his gun
Wasn’t frightened,in me he began to pour.
All night we rode,we had some fun.
Still basking in my wish,my garment I tore.
My cinnamon boobs and soft spied contour of my flesh,his hands pun.
I woke up and shuddered at the sight of the Queen when she gave a slap on my fore.-Rachel Charles
You must have heard her name
She is surrounded by fame
A woman from a culture distinct
Her senses, a bogus rich instinct
Despite her seeming comfort
She’s restricted to her Ford Escort
Even her oxygen, she has to import
In a Big fancy car
Often kept away from the public
A luxury that marr
Her desire to join the Republic
Her riches like a wound leaves a scar
A slave to whiskey: she’s an alcoholic
A slave to the luxury of her spa.-Hybrid
Silence is a prison but no one counts the bars
The good paths are often without tars
He don’t want to be a king
Don’t need loyals to kiss the ring
He can’t be the valet
He Don’t want to bear the tray
Wants to do dirt a little, but not go astray
He’s listening to hers
Each utter is a string
As she puffs the cigars
He forgets his every sting
This opened his many jars
He heard his butterflies sing
As they die with the memories in his scars- Leon
This has been my curse, my fathers told me
our prayers bounced on the door, it had no key.
No matter the burning sun
Death was never granted, to the masters that was the fun.
So, we knew nothing about redemption,
but hoped for a tinge salvation,
to break these chains so freedom be continuation.
I dread these stories that stung like the bee
how the whips was on our back as pun.
Did home die when we were bottled up on sea?
Will I ever be a poet, who also had a son?
These words I speak, is the only history I can pee
from the pool of suffering, my wishes never won.
These words I still whisper deep from the dark lee-Rudolph
Wish for hearts
wish for darts
poisoned at the tip
for strength in your grip
Wish for fire
For feet that never tire
then say a prayer
Uniting conflicting paths
no matter how steep
Fear not the whites
Jaja was fare for the trip
So wish for darts
teeth ready to nip
nip at whites-OracLe
Whistling my way into them trenches
Seduced by my wishful hunches
Casually dawdling pass reality
Pass peace, calm and clarity
Everything under the sun had a start
This wild dream owes it’s to my heart
Now we’re bound, like the moon and stars, and cannot part
This wish has too many branches
All too precarious that I can’t swing from any with certainty
Each mirrors my fear of crutches
I drove here in a barrow of curiosity
Now I seek confession from too many churches
Being here has made my being too filthy
Now I stand in the rain of my own making that drenches. – Tee2emm
Every night in her dreams she wished
Upon a knight that had her bewitched
To thoughts she’s now a slave
But it was she who willingly gave
How shall she forget?
Feelings nested to her heart’s net
With every kiss she trembles and fidget
Desperately his whims she fights to resist
The more she tries, each strand of emotion hits her like a wave
Defiantly they march on and persist
Will she cave in, or will she try to save
For once her happiness now unfit
her fantasies lie buried in a shallow grave-Vera