False Illusions (poem)

Blinded by the naked eye of his home situation ;
she try’s to forget the way he made her body erupt … convulsion after convulsion.
For 1 moment she thought “my prince charming” has come to my rescue.
With questions of regret racing through her thoughts like a lion after its prey.
Soft words lingering in space , sprinkled by broken promises.
He played this game before with a different partner as his “main lady” watched silently behind closed doors thinking ” he loves me and knows where home is .”
False allusions lingering in the dark …his hands touching another females body
Starting with her lips and then down to the middle of her back, causing her panties to moisten second by second.
As his tongue dances in her mouth to a steady paste.
His manhood begins to grow from the wetness of her p*ssy,using his index finger working it back and forth in a circular motion.
*her legs spread more an she tenses up - whispers* … “Can I trust you” softly interjecting kissing between each word. *He whispers* “yes you can mommy”
He explores her body, wildly roaming his hands up and down her curvy voluptuous body.
He slowly inserts …she moans softly…
He spreads both of her legs,
bending her right leg so he can get a better feeling of her “gushy gushy”
He moans “yea mommy, like that” every inch that he goes deeper in side of her…
Eyes open dazed to the reality at hand…she may just have been a “jump off” and he scored .
Tears roll down the sides of her cheeks from the
embarrassment and shame that is now conjured by the past and from the trap of False Allusions.


- Written by @MsNewShoes

LOST CHILDREN ROAMING THE WILD STREETS AT NIGHT by @MsNewShoes (poem)

Raised by single mothers, whom themselves are their own prisoners of society, are the four walls that surround them.

Wondering: “how did your mother let you leave the house in that manner?” With rags on barely covering up your scars, hairs matted together, body odor smelling through caked up perfumes.

We approach: we smell the foul urine odor from the stairwells, see the guts of cigars spread on the floor, the empty clear bags of cocaine with smear of white residue left in them. The unclean apartment with roaches and mice looking at you as if you don’t belong there.

Lost children roaming the wild streets at night ,questioning themselves…. “did I really have a f*cked up life?”

Show me your morals and values! where is your mother at?

My mother is a street walker, a gold digger, a high price hoe. She get’s dressed and goes out with the high rollers all times of the night. Sometimes barely making it back in before the sun starts to peek in on the night and tell it to go hide until it kisses it on the forehead.

My mother searches for her NEXT “get high” every two hours or so…..she wears anything from spandex to nothing underneath her “party clothes”. Her friend… Uncle Ted, we’re told to call him, prefers it that way. You can tell by the smirk on his face and the bulge in his pants when he sees her cat walking around.

Lost children roaming the glistening air, waiting for the pleasures of tomorrow to arrive. Driving in the passengers seat questioning principals,morals, and reflections all kicked out the door and replaced by a false happiness embedded to the soul.written by -@MsNewShoes
** copy written **

Posted on Tuesday November 16th , 2010