INMATE POEMS

“She always wanted (1)”, a poem- By William Morgan

She said she always wanted one, and I was the smoking gun, fuming stress relievers, better believe in reciprocation, back and Forth’s,karma comes back of course like the camera in the back of my Porsche, Good vibing, I’m live in all facets, passing through realms, I don’t understand how loyalty can’t be felt, or why solidarity may never melt on the crest of those who have dealt with Real?

She said that she was the proverbial belt for loose jean’s, kinda of odd hearing these things back then, but I’ve been in worse listening situations, My thoughts configure that all ladies who are woman need places to lay there faces,without judgments passed,without the studs who would aim to cash in on vulnerability, those nights, or days when hearts are broken, text messages conveying breakup’s, counter productive to the makeup being smeared when those tears fall,carrying all of y’all in it’s wake,

I caught her on the early morn’, wake and bake, she inhaled, and it was a date for future memoirs, she found various ways to menage, certainly was more than original, home stretching she was a miracle, the lady was classified as intricate, so I kept the golden ear, Tug of war with the moat in the middle, I edged closer, and closer until I became near to her aorta, Dialogue scientific, the sessions were terrific, many faces exchanged as if we were cycling Yamaha’s on the rush hour turnpike changing lanes, Speed freaks, then the pace became complete with slow advances, and when the night fell we somehow danced with wolves, Zoology was the rule,

She thought that she was (Dairy Queen) cool, ideally fully loaded, physics dually bolted with attributes, her attitude was Golden State Warrior, like catch and shoot, aim for the first lame impeding, She kept needing, completing the deal, She thought that her movements, and actions were real, not quite the cigar, or celebratory jar of Kush, commandments in her heart burned like Moses bush, her tush was Amber, face like damn her for omitting sunshine every time I find a reason to stare, the flower produced a euphoric substance, and I needed a D.A.R.E, Never cared to share with my comrades, even though it’s cliche to declare,”It ain’t no fun if the homies can’t have none”, My ego was dumb, She said she was the one that I’ll remember!

So I pondered, and begged to differ,Questioning her intentions, due to the frequent intermissions existing between us when those people cleaned us of any intimacy, I’ve learned that It’s easy to be in(Like)when the times are ripe, and the paper is twice as much as the average, Common mistakes are to lavish, or “Be-Dazzle”, but at the time I was styling, back in the day TIS wheels to Dalvins on my established Benzes, I wonder if I was like McDonalds “Calvin” would I have been compounded with those same memories?

So from now on I’ll peek through the proverbial windows, until I know it’s safe to be sure, It’s often defined as mature,She said she was sure…………

William Morgan
DOC #561-985

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