Beef is old
The ops ain’t change
Blaq is unique
I’m fresh
You know the things that you hid
Your secrets come to the truth or come to the light
Your soul glows dark with glimmers of bright
What’s knowledge to truth
A lie is you
But what’s new
As Gentle as a Sea Breeze
As gentle as a sea breeze’s tender kiss,
In fluid motions, your grace and bliss.
You’re one with the ocean’s ebb and flow,
A sunset’s beauty in a silent, radiant glow.
Inconspicuous moves, you rise and fall,
In harmony with the moon’s celestial call.
Your eyes conceal what your heart holds dear,
But your touch whispers secrets I long to hear.
As Sweet as a Blooming Rose
Like a rose in bloom, you exquisitely unfurl,
Flourishing flavors, your essence a world.
Ultrasonic sounds, like a summer’s chime,
I savor your presence, a captivating rhyme.
As True as the Night Star
A true night star, in the vast expanse you shine,
Melodic light, a celestial design.
Your mission, synchronized with Earth’s grand scheme,
You flaunt your worth, like a vivid dream.
The Deepest of Your Heart
I see your heart in each tender caress,
My nerves resonate with your secrets, I confess.
Ultrasonic signals to my ears you send,
Revealing thoughts, fears, a connection without end.
In Your Philosophy, I Find Meaning
No denial, our existence deserves commitment’s embrace,
I feel the depth of your thoughts and grace.
Your philosophy, the foundation of your soul,
I desire your wisdom, the deeper you unroll.
The cloak over your eyes, a mere fraction it conceals,
Your touch speaks love, in ways no word reveals.
So, tell me you love me, in this silent, sacred art,
As you touch my soul, and we share a beating heart.
Love Fearlessly or endlessly
Unmanageable feelings and emotions leads to love recklessly
A love effortlessly
I’m seamlessly reckless in an effort to touch you sexually
A love distant… is a love mentally
You feeling me
Under the moon’s embrace, we linger in smoke’s embrace,
To kiss or not, a choice we face, a dance of desire’s grace.
Weather’s whispers in the night, secrets hidden in the mist,
Your eyes, an invitation, a world of mystery they enlist.
As smoke curls in the air, rising like a silent plea,
My fevered senses heighten, an intoxicating spree.
A climate of yearning engulfs my every thought,
In this haze of longing, all reason is forgot.
Through your eyes, I glimpse horizons, uncharted and unknown,
Elevated in your presence, on a realm we both have flown.
Let me trace your rhythm, let my fingers find the chords,
In the symphony of passion, where our spirits are the lords.
A melody of poetry, entwined with Ganja’s sweet refrain,
An R&B of sensations, transcending the mundane.
Your smoke resonates, a melody so loud,
My smoke, a wistful cloud, weaving dreams like a shroud.
An aura of resilience, a G’s strength runs through my core,
In your presence, I find power, wanting nothing more.
In codes unspoken, our connection finds its root,
Wisdom may fade, but this fire we will not dispute.
For one night, let’s be free, surrendering to this decree,
Inhaling life’s pleasures, as our spirits break free.
We’ll share breath, ignite souls, let our essences ignite,
Bask in each other’s warmth, like stars in the night.
With the rising sun, our symphony shall cease,
Yet the echo of our encounter will find lasting peace.
In this cloud of passion, we’ll etch memories strong,
For in this fleeting moment, our harmonies belong.
Once upon a time, nestled along the sun-kissed shores of a tranquil beach, there lay a forgotten secret waiting to be discovered. Underneath the warm grains of sand, a solitary book lay silently, infused with tales untold and mysteries yet to be unraveled.
Legend had it that this book held the power to transport its readers to the farthest reaches of their imagination, granting them the ability to explore worlds both real and fantastical. The book seemed to have arrived from a distant land, carried by the whims of the ocean currents, before finally settling upon this serene shore.
Curious souls would stumble upon it during their languid strolls along the beach, drawn by an inexplicable aura beckoning them closer. As their hands brushed against its weathered cover, a tingling sensation would ripple through their veins, igniting a ripple of anticipation in their hearts.
Each reader who dared to open the pages of this mystical tome would find themselves instantly transported to another realm. They would traverse ancient kingdoms, encounter mythical creatures, and embark on grand adventures that transcended the boundaries of time and space.
Through this magical book, destinies were rewritten, heroes were born, and hearts were forever changed. It had the power to uplift spirits, ignite sparks of creativity, and stir emotions that lay hidden within the depths of the reader’s soul.
As the legend of this enigmatic book spread, the beach became a haven for dreamers and seekers of the extraordinary. People from near and far would gather, their fingers tracing the indents left by the words that danced upon its pages.
And so, the book in the sand became more than a mere object; it became a symbol of possibility and inspiration. It served as a reminder that adventures could be found in the most unexpected of places, awaiting only those willing to take the leap into the unknown.
So, should you ever find yourself walking along a secluded beach, keep an eye out for that solitary book in the sand. For within its pages lies a realm of endless wonder, just waiting to be explored by those fortunate enough to discover its breathtaking secrets.
Once upon a time, nestled along the sun-kissed shores of a tranquil beach, there lay a forgotten secret waiting to be discovered. Underneath the warm grains of sand, a solitary book lay silently, infused with tales untold and mysteries yet to be unraveled.
Legend had it that this book held the power to transport its readers to the farthest reaches of their imagination, granting them the ability to explore worlds both real and fantastical. The book seemed to have arrived from a distant land, carried by the whims of the ocean currents, before finally settling upon this serene shore.
Curious souls would stumble upon it during their languid strolls along the beach, drawn by an inexplicable aura beckoning them closer. As their hands brushed against its weathered cover, a tingling sensation would ripple through their veins, igniting a ripple of anticipation in their hearts.
Each reader who dared to open the pages of this mystical tome would find themselves instantly transported to another realm. They would traverse ancient kingdoms, encounter mythical creatures, and embark on grand adventures that transcended the boundaries of time and space.
Through this magical book, destinies were rewritten, heroes were born, and hearts were forever changed. It had the power to uplift spirits, ignite sparks of creativity, and stir emotions that lay hidden within the depths of the reader’s soul.
As the legend of this enigmatic book spread, the beach became a haven for dreamers and seekers of the extraordinary. People from near and far would gather, their fingers tracing the indents left by the words that danced upon its pages.
And so, the book in the sand became more than a mere object; it became a symbol of possibility and inspiration. It served as a reminder that adventures could be found in the most unexpected of places, awaiting only those willing to take the leap into the unknown.
So, should you ever find yourself walking along a secluded beach, keep an eye out for that solitary book in the sand. For within its pages lies a realm of endless wonder, just waiting to be explored by those fortunate enough to discover its breathtaking secrets.
We exhale
Inhale
Our desires prevail
We brought it down
Brought it down, surrendering to the haze
Lost in the rhythm, in a passionate daze
Our intentions clear, in each lingering touch
Written on our bodies, a desire that’s too much
As the air clears from the smoke-filled room
We still move, bodies in the perfect tune
Intentions translated into actions full of bliss
We sway and dance, caught in this passionate abyss
We create a symphony of love and heat
Embraced within the sheets, our souls complete
We exhale, release, and let the passion begin
Indulging once more, in this forbidden sin
Well into the depths of the night
Our love burns bright, ignite, alight.
Accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative. However, this nigga couldn’t eliminate the negative. The cops were on his ass. He had an old white lady and man tied up in their basement… This shit was wicked crazy! His face was all over the news. Nigga couldn’t win. He knew that he was going to lose. He didn’t even know the play—but he was deep in the game. He was losing his cool and becoming paranoid. He kept peeping out the windows and peephole.
The gun was still in his hand. The mask was still over his face. He was rummaging through the old white people’s home, trying to find the safe. He already found the four-four, some extra bullets and an AK. A find that accentuated the positive. Now, he was even more prepared for war.
Two hostages. He was going out on his own terms, guns ablazing. Most likely racing down the expressway, busting the AK, screaming come and get me! Lord have mercy on these old white people.
They were both gagged with their hands tied behind their backs, and their feet were duck taped up. They were crying and squirming, asking the Lord to not allow this nigga to hurt them. He said that he wouldn’t hurt them as long as they did nothing to make him nervous. The old white lady was wondering, was this the nigger I saw on Fox? If so, he was sure to take them out.
The old white man couldn’t believe that he brought this nigger home to his wife. He was a fool and a coward. He was sorry. This should’ve been over before it started. Now, this nigger was all in their home, and they were his hostages!
Damn! They were fresh out of retirement, straight to being murdered by a nigger! Tears ran down their faces.
This nigga’s heart was still racing, and he hadn’t stopped pacing yet. He was wondering, where the safe at? He was smoking a Camel that he found in the same draw as the ammo. Looks like there’s no money… What a negative. He had to blow this spot before someone came, such as a relative. Then he would have to eliminate the relative to accentuate the positive. If the pigs caught him in this crib, with them old white people tied up in the basement, he was dead – right here! If he left, he was dead! The law was squirming, so many negatives.
If these white people weren’t old, he would’ve tortured them until they told him where the bread was, but they were old and he still had a soul. As long as the law didn’t show up, he would let them keep their souls. That was a positive.
This nigga wasn’t rested. Smoke was the only thing that he ingested. He couldn’t eat, it felt like his intestines were knotted up. As soon as the sun went down he would blow this town. Throw the wig on, old lady disguise, sail out on an Uber ride. Sounds like that was the play to be made.
However, the play to be made was botched in the development of SWAT. He saw the truck pass by as he peeked out of the window. Damn! He was panicking. What was the next move? He backed himself in a corner. He should’ve kept it moving. A negative. His back was against the wall so shit was likely to get reckless.
The old white lady was wiggling and squirming, trying to get untied. She knocked over the shelves and the vases fell. “Hmm!” she was crying, trying to scream through the gag. The old white man was trying his best to get loose, he needed to save his wife. If he could get loose, he had a pistol that he could get to. Turn this negative situation into a positive. Kill this nigga! He’ll be the hero that brings this nigger’s end. Standing ovation. He was almost loose. For this nigger, he was grabbing the noose or tying him to the train tracks.
Before this nigga spent off, he had to back track, grab the bag, and make sure that the two old white people were where he left them at. Damn! The old white man was almost loose. This nigga smacked him with the gun, “don’t make me murder you!” He wrapped them up tighter and gagged them up harder. The nigga was blowing this spot, it was a positive that the two old white people didn’t get shot. He was taking his chances walking down the road. Hugging the inside of the tree-line would be his disguise. Trying to hitchhike off into the midnight.
The car was maneuvering down the highway. This nigga wanted to gun it. One hundred miles and running! But he couldn’t give the police a reason to suspect him, so he did the speed limit. Sixty five and running from the law. He had the seat up, hugging the wheel of the car.
The sun was beaming bright. Freedom was in his sight. Jail was in the rear. Death was in the air. And all of it was on his chest. He still had the gun in his hand, vest on… Teflon. He was driving with precision, staying under the radar. What was a nigga to do when he was on the move from the boys in blue with nowhere to go?
He was composing offhand. So, the play was… he still didn’t know. Nothing reckless, because that helicopter could converge on this area in seconds. The bullets were low in the weapon. He had to get low, his heart was beating fast and his hands were shaking. So, he gripped the steering wheel tighter, trying to avoid another crash. He held the uncanny ability to get low, so he blended with the cars on this road. Headed to the north pole, in the wrong direction. Hell!
This nigga peeped the law in his rearview. Nothing reckless. They weren’t suspecting him yet, but once they saw his complexion, they would automatically suspect him. This shit would get hectic again. He weaved the car into the next lane. Fast lane. He was anxious and ready to takeoff, put the pedal to the metal.
The bag was his passenger. Old Nick was in his ear. He was scared and alone, on the way to the great unknown. Damn! He wished that it was all just a bad dream, and he could go home. His mother, he would never hug her again. Maybe, if he made it safe, he could send her some diamonds. His life, he would never be able to buy it back. The law wanted his neck, they would want him to dance in the air. He was looking in the side view mirror, wondering what was next?
The cop cruiser was only patrolling, he was about six cars behind. This nigga was considering taking the next exit before he made a bad move and the cops witnessed it. Plus, the car was stolen and would be reported so in an instant. So, the play was…
Take the next exit. He took it and pulled into the gas station. He was looking for the obvious. A new car. His eyes were scanning the area for the law. He jumped out of the stolen vehicle, hoodie pulled over his head, duffle bag over his shoulder, Newport dangling from his lips and the gun in his sleeve.
The play was… something that this old white man would’ve never foreseen. This nigga threw the pistol to the old white man’s throat, and pushed him in his truck, “drive off… slow.” This nigga didn’t want to murder the old white man on this road. However, the old white man was nervous and this nigga was nervous.
The old white man figured he would be killed. He needed to be noticed, so he swerved the Range Rover. This nigga clunked him with the butt of the gun, “another move like that and you’re done!”
“Please point that gun in another direction,” The old white man cried, “I just want to make it home to my wife.” This nigga smiled, the play was… he was tying up the old white man and his wife.
The cops would be there in seconds. This nigga was all up in this church counting the devil’s blessings. Lord have mercy on his soul, cause the devil wouldn’t. It seemed like he was on the devil’s mission, all up in this church with a weapon on him.
What was the play? He had to make it fast, the law was on his ass. Grab the deacon? He didn’t want to, but he would.
Oh Lord forgive me. He couldn’t fall victim to the cops, his lifelong foe. He was an outlaw, he lived on a tight rope. The law cheated, so he cheated.
Grab the reverend. He didn’t want to, but he would. Throw the slammer to him, then tell him to pray for him before he ushered him out of the church with the semiautomatic to his back. Lord please, overlook his foul ways, his sins weren’t matching what was in his soul. He was a good nigga, but played the bad nigga’s role.
Yeah, he thought. He would put some money in the offering from the bag. It was heavy, but he’ll never let it go. He was taking it to Switzerland or the Netherlands.
The choir was blowing a hymn. All of the parishioners in the pews were staring at him. They didn’t know, but he was the devil’s vessel. He was playing it cool in the church, with his hood on and head bowed… He was praying for himself, walking down the aisle of the church with a weapon on him.
The devil was in his ear, and this nigga was listening carefully. He was trying to exit carefully. Grab the pastor, walk him out of this church? He didn’t want to, but he would. Shouting for the Lord, give the minister the holy ghost. He just needed to make it out of the exit before the police arrived. They would be there in seconds.
They were on his ass. If they ran in this church… shit would get hectic. It would fuck up the last chance he had with the Lord and seal the deal with the devil. Or he could just make it out the exit. He was clutching the weapon in his sleeve, in this church.
All the shepherds on the pulpit watched him. They didn’t know, but he needed a miracle. Bullets were getting low, he bust too many cops so he ran out of ammo. He was up on them, thirty to not—nothing. The cops couldn’t touch him!
He dug his hand in the bag and dropped a handful of diamonds and cash into the offering. Hood on, head bowed, praying, Lord please accept the offering. He left out of the church through the exit.
The Lord blessed him. The keys were in a car, left in the ignition. He pulled out slowly, Lord had mercy!
