“700th Post!”

I think it’s crazy how.

I’ve lasted so long.

No face in the mud.

No bullets in my back.

No more selling crack.

I cracked my knuckles

Before I’ll ever fumble my

Life.

I’ll get pushed

Down by some badges.

Searched up.

beaten down!

Naw!

never me!

I made it clear

That I’d shoot first

Before they ever bury

Me!

I’ll sleep awake!

So no one can take

My dreams.

I’ve grown here.

A month before I

Started typing on

WordPress. I was

Fresh up out the

Can. Throwing away

My I’d badge.

Damn!

House raided again!

Two

Days after. I was back

In jail. then questioned.

Almost violated parol

Into probation. Came home

Again to see my younger

Brother.

He gave me the

Referral to refurbish

My life. Then he said to

Me.

“Tell your story!”

“Well don’t tell them everything?!”

“Man wtf!?”

“Just type in!?”

“You don’t know how to!?”

“Damn it!”

“Just write and I’ll type it!”

I’ve been on here ever since.

700th BABEEEEEE!!

A negro still here!

Thanks for all the support, loves and encouraging words!

Peace and blessings to you all!

Deadly Melodic

Just one

serving of

You.

I’m the dish

Flavored till complete.

Glass lips break, into

Cotton candy.

Grapes…

Lipstick those

falling shards onto

my cheek bone.

Formed A

Cutting-edge kiss.

You almost fell…

like some priceless

China plate before

I caught You.

No matter what

The risk.

I’d never

Let you ever.

A finished cuisine,

Ever hit The floor till.

Shattering.

There is no Remake

As remarkable.

Your Ivory

Sculpture.

So neatly

fine.

Looks like a

Hieroglyphs in

Lines.

Drift-tastic.

My micro endorphins

Open up like.

The sun…

Peaking through the.

After storm clouds.

This was no dream,

That your features

Were close up.

Smiled!

At the flawless

Voodoo.

I’m under

The spell of your eyes.

Oh Lord!

You put a

Spell on me!

You speak Like its

written in old English

Cursive.

Like re-watching

You in a short black and White documentary.

I comatosed into

Nostalgia…

In front of a

mirror…

In What seemed to be

An elevator….

A star, bound

To the ocean.

Into the third eye,

Left wet finger

Prints on me.

I was browsing entirely,

I became quiet.

I wish I was that

Mirror.

A phenomenon

Of beauty.

to fucking

exquisite…

I can’t fucking forget it!

Matches Into Black Tea

The ceremonial brew that…

Twists together…

To make the perfect liquids…

Adding to hydrogen blown…

Going boom…

Her sword can cut me…

Into her ends and outs and piles of happiness…

In suckable stipends…

Wrapping me up like…

I am the burrito…

A strong tuck, tucked to your stomach…

like waistbeads…

Can I lay on you…

The bed frame is a rough sailings…

Making its way to heaven…

Hit from the back, yes I’m sure of it…

Knock knock…

Opening up the pearl harbor early…

So I can dock my hardship…

Enough for the liquid icing to shine…

It all up…

Lap increased open…

To slide into the wheels of fortune, penetrating…

That course of composer so juicy…

Till I ease the end in…

Onto the onion…

Crying out for more, raw consumption…

Radar detecting out…

That, outstanding oral fixation…

Updated, plated for my order…

Sweating has increased for my pleasure…

Falling out of your poor’s like…

Elderly black women in church…

Feeling the Holy ghosts…

Some hot black tea till our time together divorces…

This overdose…

Sensational vacation…

Verbal, vocabularies coming out if…

done right….

Hunting Season By Cameron Chin

A good heart, filled with despair. Does a good heart really get you anywhere? This world is cold, they say only the wolves survive. Seems like having a good heart will only get you eaten alive. I reach for a greater being only to be held down by my own self esteem. Is there really hope for me? Hopefully, this is how things are supposed be! You’re one of kind so know everything in life takes time. Having a good heart is a blessing, just because others loss their souls trying to take control of what you already withhold, doesn’t mean you have to stoop to their low. Just be you and control what you can control.