Be My Valentine II: Cranberry Lips

Sweet soul, your body a sugar lump of spice
Sex games and emotions on rolled dice
I have hors d'oeuvres reserved, champagne in ice
We’re feeling nice for each other to entice
I plant the first kiss to your lips, cranberry
I’m humbled to smash the chocolate covered cherry
Titties and nipples, I suck as Hershey drops
Hands all over you, removing bra top



Caress wetness through panties, satin lace
Gently, you sit your apple bottom on my face
I taste, lick all over it, a trace
I enjoy taking time at a steady pace
Smell like roses, the scent fills my nose
Happy, you belong to me in this way to expose

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM… BE MY VALENTINE

Horny for you, it’s a heartthrob

Foreplay, you smear red lipstick gloss on my love knob

I want goodies, that’s the color pink

I’m deep inside your pleasant au naturel stink

I have a thing for a woman with pretty feet

Lower legs enough for polished toes and mouth to meet

I do a Cupid shuffle, between thighs, contracting muscles

We stain and soak the sheets, like blood puddles

Our passion bleeds in a romantic massacre 

Aim to please from almost every naughty genre

You’re going to be my personal freak, candy thot

Whenever I feel it, I hit on the spot

Got me all bothered and so hot

This blue and violet ink pen is pointy for your dot

We can chillax, get some pillow talk

Next round, I climb that ass, like Jack and the Bean Stalk 

Pleasure I give, will be spectacular 

14th of February, holiday secular

© 2014, Alphonso Taylor. All rights reserved. No republication of this material in any form or medium is permitted without expressed permission of the author.

I'm the Problem

I’m somebody for somebody to show off and show out
but, I won’t be the one with lips to pout
Against me, it’s always a personal vendetta
It’s Scarface, starring Al Taylor as Tony Montana
My whole life, others are quick to judge
See why I don’t forgive more than I hold grudge
Have to be fearless for my soul not to budge
from any verbal to physical threatening nudge
This is me in the flesh, I’m someone’s son
The war may be lost, battles I’ve won
Focus on me and do my thing like a don
I like to run own things, pass the baton
What is the meaning now to be nice
Kindness taken for weakness, comes at a price
Have to examine who are real friends of mine
Can’t ignore the signs, read between lines
I’ve seen the most of worse in extremities 
Think I made a difference in lives for good… enemies
Keep telling them, you don’t bully me
Show how wrath of a short man can fully be
It’s said, drama is something I create or invite
I will no longer welcome it to excite
It can appear as a disguise in my life, like a mite
Eat the dust, as tried to make me bite
Some didn’t wanna act right, when I was in their presence
Now, they do and still shady in my absence  
Mistreated in idea of negligence
I’m straightforward for whole independence
Glad to recognize reality as a loner
Reinventing the wheel, myself, a skin toner
Better off, exactly where I’m at
If I can call it home, lay down hat  

© 2014, Alphonso Taylor. All rights reserved. No republication of this material in any form or medium is permitted without expressed permission of the author.

Pussy on a Scale

I rate good nay-nay, close to or a ten

It has to be tight, like I’m breaking a hymen

Nice and tender, when I orally please the clit

Forms all over my dick, a perfect fit

When I hit, it makes me tremble, parting each lip

That kind of moisture to almost have me slip

in and out, working my long sensitive tip

She throws it back at me, as I dip

It knows how to handle every stroke, deep

I like to see myself inside from a peep

I was once given a 97%, for not showing any emotion

It wasn’t my house for me to get loud in the notion

She wondered to me, if her pussy is good

Cold with snow outside, it’s sexy fire to burn my wood

A big girl, so I stayed cozy in her heat

Her body is hot chocolate of a cookie treat

I enjoy a twat that can be freaky, nasty and flexible

To get it in all different positions is satiable

Talk to me to cum from Kegel exercise of her muscles

The type to have me want more and even cuddle

© 2013, Alphonso Taylor. All rights reserved. No republication of this material in any form or medium is permitted without expressed permission of the author.  

Poem to My Unborn II: Baby Fever

Son, daughter, sextuplets, quadruplets, or twins

To have you, I'm in the journey all over again

To do this, I thought I found the love of my life

Backfired, cut and stabbed me deep like a knife

I wanna see a part of me born away from strife

Without the catastrophe, everything going trife

In 2012, I took a fertility test, I'm potent

Didn't want to, had to make sure I can cement

False alarms, a woman once lied about a miscarriage
I broke down and cried, as she tried to discourage
Another told me, if I'm so anxious, find a hoe
This was supposed to be my partner in happiness and woe
The rest just tried to keep me near
Purpose for me in their lives were never clear
All of a sudden, all these women have baby fever
Can I just bless one to make myself a believer
Stipulation, now they want a man to marry
before creating his seeds of nine months to carry
Am I chosen first to go through bullshit that's starry
Will it ever be my time on the contrary
Wife them to get almost anything from
a molecule growing inside, the size of an atom
Some females already have kids, they want more
Are they for real with me or adding daddies to core
For a woman to miss her cycle, I'm going psycho
 to hear words, "I'm pregnant", in creation of our embryo
Caught up in whether it'll be natural or in vitro
Going over the possibilities in my ego
I'll be jumping for joy, is it girl or a boy
Buy diapers, milk, food, clothes, and toys 
I can imagine us playing on a Saturday afternoon
Eating a bowl of cereal and watch cartoons
Like to observe when you first pick up a spoon
The uno of walking steps to be taken soon


Ghostbusters II, I feel like the ghost in painting
Be one with child has me fainting
If this is really contagious, I'm sick
Dying to rub a belly of a punch or kick
I'll remove each and every distraction
to be there for each and every contraction
Spread the word, I'm expecting to the masses
I must attend those special infant classes
No, I won't tease your mother about her pounds
After delivery, I still want her for HER around
Meanwhile, it's said, at this stage, the sex is so wet
Used to be scared, I'll poke the baby with regret
I anticipate the day for her water to be broke
I scramble of what to do next, I'm gonna choke
A live birth, I have yet to witness
Rushing to the emergency room is my exercise fitness
The whole pregnancy process, I don't wanna pressure
Not even to push, when womb is 10 centimeters of measure
I'll be by her side, please squeeze my little hand
Tell me to listen to what the doctors and nurses command
I wanna learn why or why not, she  needs an epidural
I know it's to reduce the pain, head at canal
Like to say, she did a great job, after labor
Thank you, sweetie, visit our kid in an incubator
Get permission, when to release and go home
The effect of two combined chromosomes
 Epitome of feeding, as newborn slurps
Hold over my shoulder, until that big burp
Cherish these moments of daddy's dearest
Close to and in my heart, keep you the nearest
Circumcision, ear piercings to potty training
Fix bottles, appointments to have health sustaining
It's not how much sperm I save
It'll be how much I gave
Until then, in fall and winter we do heat
Autumn of reproduction system on repeat
In spring and summer, present an offspring
The following year, happy birthday, I sing

© 2013, Alphonso Taylor. All rights reserved. No republication of this material in any form or medium is permitted without expressed permission of the author.  

Honest Hustler

I've always been the honest hustler
Can’t be known as a buster
I took the path to do it legal
Gave back to people through each sequel
The system won’t let me work full time
So I flip every penny, nickel to dime
Use poetry as my petty crime
Every now and then I win a few slams
Some quick dough to get out of jams
I'm running and ducking all the scams
Sold copies of my lyrics as rocks
It is the share of hard knocks
Never boiled salt or peeled collard greens
Those gigs, not in my blood by any means
Most foes think they did it while lonesome
Can't admit for real whom you stole from
Y'all were nothing, but con artists
Let's see who’ll get the farthest
I may not touched a lot of you physical
But, I punk y'all in the mental
I stopped being near roaches and rats
Down the line, I faced these cats
Still claiming they my true dogs
You hop bandwagons as leaves to frogs
I know they want me to disappear
Now, I've become a man, you fear

© 2013, Alphonso Taylor. All rights reserved. No republication of this material in any form or medium is permitted without expressed permission of the author.

 

I must be Fed

Say prayers before I go to bed

On the watch for flags that are red

Goddamn, don't take my cred

Food for thought to keep over shed

The brain as a frigidaire gets empty

Daily bread, there should be plenty

The knowledge is in good health

Nourishing the heart to gain wealth

The consequences might be hard to digest

Strong advice and lectures for breakfast

Grace has been said and ready to munch

All odds to favors on the menu as lunch

Still a sinner, but growing as a winner

Just handling business with no dinner

For dessert, it can't be any setbacks

Its collateral to have close snacks

Serving high bills for beverages

A diet so crazy to maintain leverage

Show respect from wishes

A sink full of dishes

I can always eat and be lonely

In this life, I must stay hungry

© 2013, Alphonso Taylor. All rights reserved. No republication of this material in any form or medium is permitted without expressed permission of the author.

 

 

Huggin' You from Behind II: Simmer

Baby, if you can, put the food on a low light
Don't let it burn like my hunger for you
Skip the meal, as I crave dessert
Find a sweet opening for me to insert
Smooches taste better than salt and pepper
Pour love in a cup to measure
I know it's our candlelight dinner
It's just, you got that Mac-N-Cheese pussy
Sound of wetness, I dig in with my serving spoon
Spread your flesh to invite me to go harder
You such a pleaser, meat tenderizer
Bodies clash like pots and pans
Moans in the jingle of silverware
Bake a sweat, until orgasms are fried
The bed became one greasy plate
Filled your peaches up with cream
Each touch was like fresh vegetables to steam
Felt so good, your onion made me cry
This what happens, when you're in chef lingerie

© 2013, Alphonso Taylor. All rights reserved. No republication of this material in any form or medium is permitted without expressed permission of the author.