Problem King
* PROBLEM KING * My Problem is, I don’t have a Problem being a Problem, And I didn’t Vote for Obama, My Candidate was my own Momma, Who wouldn’t let my Father end my life with a Condom, She said, If You
Poetry about life circumstances, events, emotions, just everyday poems that an individual can relate to…
* PROBLEM KING * My Problem is, I don’t have a Problem being a Problem, And I didn’t Vote for Obama, My Candidate was my own Momma, Who wouldn’t let my Father end my life with a Condom, She said, If You
WAR CLOTHES A Collaboration by Lion Eagle Mahatma Poetry and King Lion MaNGOD Mahatma Poetry~ Against all odds or play for keeps……….. He said he could beat this as if it was the right thing to say to a circumstance which now
PERTINENT SUBJECT MATTER A Cruel Intentions, MaNGOD Implementation Cruel Intentions~ Never watered down are the silent disturbances brought to thought as pertinent messages are visualized and a flameless fya is recognized early on because those Psychotic governors’ of the syllabus have toiled
Unrecognizable I don’t recognize me Not even in the light of the sun Can I see beyond the distortion Their lies Have become My truth Their perception, My mirror They no longer throw stones In replacement Heavier artillery, Hollow point bullets Piercing
Carla I remember when I first saw her, I had prejudice written across my heart I had already formed an opinion about who she was And what she would be to me She didn’t’ even appear as all the rest, I ignored
Playfully Surreal Wish I were but A playfully surreal A line in my own poem, With a game-changing flavor! Born in the womb Of our golden intimacy, Serenading your eyes As a hand-picked suitor! Before lapsing Into a dancing oblivion! …..Vishwas ©Copyright
If I can have you like this forever I would Body so soft press against my wood Drifting me off into a world full of your goods I don’t want to be sober keep me high off of you if you would
The Smoke in Your Eyes… Sometimes I see the fumes, They cloud your eyes Something’s boiling upstairs You feel blocked off to me Your shoulder feels cold And the tension seems old But there it stays with you Sometimes I can’t tell
* YES * With Thighs dipped in Dyes of Henna Design, Eyes of Black Kohl, like polished Rubies with Crystal Shine, Skin of Silk, Soul, and Satin, like Butterfly, Kisses on your Collarbones, Hickies on your Heart is enough to make your
Do nothing… I want to lay beside you, No… I want to lay within your arms And have you to hold me, We will say nothing We will… Do nothing Just lie there In stillness, slow heave while listening To the
*Touching My Poetry* She said why don’t you write me something erotic,… I mean I don’t even know where to start because it’s finished if I ring your doorbell and you answer dressed in that silky sexiness that slides off your skin
She makes me feel like no other but so undercover juices flowing like honey Like a river causes me to shiver Like December In a morning mist I’m nothing without her kiss Holding me before work Oooweeee so you don’t want me
* BIRTH OF IMANI * There’s a raging war at the banks of her forelock shores With lightning bolt storms, I want to pull her in with my arms She’s like a woman torn between the future and before She spills all
* Things We Air * I’m The Bastard Son of Old Whores, Torn by their Panties, I was born before the Condom hit The Floor, I’m a mixed breed of Cum and Blood, A Pimp’s Prodigy with Trick Daddies, Brothel Blues on
This journey… Lately… I don’t know who shoes I’ve been wearing, Because this journey doesn’t feel like mine Each step I take seems to be a waste of time… Damn near going crazy… Feeling uninspired, and downright lazy Unmoved… nothing seems