poetry

It Happens

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Every once in a while,
I allow my ego out,
to feed it’s narcissistic,
oats,
my sultry gray pools work on cue,
as lashes bow,
working,
magic of the wiles,
too gloat.
100% hetero,
utilizing my greedy gift
to accommodate all walks,
too shift and talk,
lovingly
of passages too my flow-etry,
Harlequin’s type,
hypnotic souletry,
urban, mixed with,
a smooth voodistic ooze,
of poetry.
In recognition of heaving breasts the unrest,
the need,
to get life’s​ heavy ass, off my chest.

Welcoming a world,

I spread eagles to love,
for full compliments,
of them,
that likely invest.
Tragic, how, I’m just good at it,
a little hood captive,
with aspect too proclaim,
a geniune grin,
in being,
one of the best.
Hoping too sit on the shelf, next to the rest, the names that go unforgotten,
as I feel out the ways, of my stories quest.

Poetry By Tamara Dorsey-Moore
Thinker on the Loose
Copyright © 2017

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