Co-Authoring A Poem With Pablo Neruda

Yo Pablo, why don’t you start us off?

(Pablo coughs)

‘If each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me
ah my love, ah my own’…

To all the literate men and women,
Hip Hop rhymesayers,
I’ve read a lot of poetry,
Heard a lot of music,
Trying to equate women,
And handsome men,
To roses, sometimes topaz,
Sadly, they got it all wrong,

Yo Pablo, spit a little game,

‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved
in secret, between the shadow and the soul’…

How a man loves his mistress,
Or fucks his side-chick,
Isn’t the same,
As how a woman makes love,
To her closeted partner,

Stroking unforgettably,
Forgetting she’s waiting for a reply,
He’s waiting for me to come home tonight,
None of that matters,
Why?

We are going to get a little vulgar,
The way he fits in me, and licks inside of me,
Makes me forget about everything,
Wish lust could cover all my impurities,

Yo Pablo, bring it home,

‘If I used them for walking it would be across your back,
Right after I tie you up and run my whip down your crack’…

Blindfolded,
Hands above your head,
First a tease,
Grazing your tongue with my clit,
Next comes pain from my heels in your hip,

Dreamed of his or her sweet spot,
Tilted your head back,
Felt yourself getting closer,
Picked up the pace,
Simply a passionate melody,

Yo Pablo, the moment has come,

‘I let out a cry
Breathing gets harder,
We lean against each other,
As we recover from our high,
After an exhilarating voyage,
I’m now at peace’

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