Steven Hawkins
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Stories (3)
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Rent Free
I see it all, all laid out like a path I must be calculated because I can see the math Aggravated because I'm clearly mad Unapologetically me is not necessarily bad Being unique helps you see then you're a visionary Now they celebrate at first what they thought was scary The winds of change blow and the flow disturbs the eddy You can still catch the wave though no matter how temporarily Now you're a non-profit prophet for profit Thought you had it when you got it but lost it and dropped it Fumbled it, flopped it, aborted it like it was adopted Full stopped it, only problem is you never forgot it Seeing signs of signs of the times by design Come on back to the source, of course I'll be benign Only when they press charges is stealing a crime But we're even from the free rent I get in your mind
By Steven Hawkins4 years ago in Poets
Body of Work
When I look into your EYES the sensation that's felt Is strong enough to make even the coldest heart melt Your SMILE causes butterflies inside as I fell A wonder in the skies like shooting stars from an asteroid belt Your LIPS beg for a kiss and I'm obliged To find all your secrets as I explore your mind I explore your body as well as it's simply divine Starting at your NECK as we begin to unwind A work of art that I'm ecstatic is mine And as our HEARTS connect endlessly through time The spark we share causes more butterflies In our STOMACH, we are simply aligned No truer words are written than the story we tell ARMS and LEGS around each other tells the tale And we fell in love, so hard and so deep It's no wonder your body of work knocks me off my FEET
By Steven Hawkins4 years ago in Poets
Checkmate
Heart of a slave, blood of a King He's seen it all so you can't tell him a thing Purple heart like Prince you can't stop the reign And it wasn't until he left that you realized he came But now he has changed, potential fulfilled Ego's been killed, hurt healed, fake finally turned real Truth reveled about the deep waters that were still Yet and still he's still the blue steel selected for the kill Everyone looking wondering who is he The artist beyond the art Who scared his heart so beautifully That they filled that void with a spark Wondering where did it start When did reality jump on stupidity's cart When did the lick become the mark? What's the price paid to play his part?
By Steven Hawkins4 years ago in Poets
