Hey, this is Steven Nicholson again, here in Jackson, Michigan. Just shouting out prisonradio.org, you know, donate, help them out. Think of it as doing something for, you know, the little people that can’t do nothing for themselves so much; Prisoner Creative Arts Program, PCAP, out of University of Michigan. All love to them, too. Look em up, support em. This poem is called, “My Favorite.” It’s just inspiration from, you know, just specific people, the group of PCAP and hopefully somebody likes it.
My Favorite
Cycles of lifeless maddening,
But your flattering is like sweet whispering,
Like coal seems hissing
Because there’s diamonds beneath the fissions
Of visions projecting from your thought processing.
You’ve got me smitten,
Sort of tripping,
Wondering, what’s the mission?
If this was pimping,
On the whole you got me gone.
My mind is blown, feeling softer, sho, like Pillsbury dough,
But my growth on the block, boy,
As a block boy, keep me ready to go
When the lights get bright.
You see me at the shows
Ready to go when we turn the lights down low,
Cuz we can’t control,
Yet flexing our expression of love from soul to soul,
A connection that cannot be ignored
And must be explored,
Despite the so much more at our three bonded core.
You will never make me bored, even if death’s at your door,
I’m scratching with that whore to pull you back to shore.
I love you for all of your faults, somersaults and even more.
All my cards on the table.
I can’t draw no more.
I ain’t gonna fold.
I don’t grow cold,
Though my linguistic gymnastics are so cold,
Try them gymnastics if you are so bold.
Although love can grow cold as ice,
I’m willing to sacrifice,
To fight to keep our lives high,
Shining with light.
Last life to life
And death has snatched some life from my life.
Hence, I fight for more than just suffice
When it comes to giving love in my life, to my life,
I fight with all my might,
Because I know what it’s like to lose true love in your life.
My service bars burn bright
When I reach the precise power of love in this natural life,
Worm holed into that afterlife
A love that’s not by night.
“My favorite.”
These commentaries are recorded by Prison Radio
