Poem: Freestyle

Nov 3, 2016 | LIBRARY, Poetry

YO BABY WAZ UP I SAID IN A SMOOTH AND NONCHALANT KIND OF WAY, TRAIPSING DOWN THE BACK ROADS OF MY MIND LIKE A BOAT ON AN OCEAN AFLOAT IN A VAST ARRAY OF WHITE WASHED FENCES, LIKE THE MOON GLISTENING ON THE CHEEKS OF A FRUIT SO WAFT AND WILD AS TO BE COMING AND GROWING OUT OF NOWHERE, A SPONTANEOUS PLEASURE.

I TAUNTED AND DAUNTED AND HUSTLED WITH THE MUSCLE OF THE FATTEST RODEO BOY BUT THE DAMAGE WAS STRICT SO I HAD TO PLAY ON THE RIDE OF A HIGHER PLANE AND A FUNKY NEWFANGLED POP-UP HAD GONE LUCKY TO THE FIRST BIDDER AND WHAM! I THOUGHT LIKE A WILD MILKY MUSTACHE THAT WAS PHAT ON THE LINE OF A SMOOTH CONVERSATION THAT DISSIPATED AWAY TO AN EXTREME YESTERDAY AS WE SPOKE AND CHOKED ON THE LAST BEAT OF A DYING MEMORY BUT THE TIME GENERATES A NEW COLOR OF BLUE AND THE BEST KEEP GOING AND CONTROLLING THE SLICK BREEZE ON A LINE SET SAIL TO THE INNER CAVITY OF THE MIND SO LONG FORGOTTEN BY THE CREAMY LOVE OF A FORTNIGHT’S BEAUTY MARK.

SMOOTHLY SHIFT I BLOCK THE MARK AND MERGE WITH THE GREAT MEDIATOR IN A SPLIT OF A SECOND THAT IS INFINITE AND MIRACULOUS BUT BEAT BUT WHACKED BUT YET HAVING NO DESTINATION FEELING ITSELF FREE TO RAMBLE.

IN THE WORLD IN TIME A PLACE SO STATIONARY I GROOVE AND LIKE A TIGHT PUNCH LINE THAT IS LEFT OPEN-ENDED YOU MUST CHECK THOSE REFERENCES TO TIGHTEN THE GRIP OF THE FIRST TO GO ON A MINUTE TIP AND DON’T FORGET THAT THESE FINGERS COME CORRECT FOR AN EVERLASTING DEFINITION OF GROOVE.