Home
Editor's Page
"Skeeter", the Official YM Mascot
Guidelines
Contact Us & Links to Other Sites
Factoids
Dick and Jane, Together Again-Fiction by Marcy Dilworth
Lay Down Sally-Fiction by Jack Coey
Cleaning Up After the Narc-Fiction by Walter Giersbach
Faith-Fiction by Don Stoll
Cigarettes-Fiction by Gary Lovisi
Blood Will Bloom Like a Watercolor Flower-Fiction by Hillary Lyon
Toast, Jell-o, Tea-Fiction by Cindy Rosmus
The PLacebo Effect-Fiction by Paul Smith
Aftermath-Fiction by Kenneth James Crist
Just Like Fish-Fiction by Paul Lubaczewski
Waterworks-Fiction by Sue Cmileski
Saith Me-Fiction by Robert Ragan
The Return of the Ladykiller-Fiction by Michael D. Davis
Fire Man-Fiction by Terry Butler
Lost in Greenwich Village-Fiction by Dr. Mel Waldman
Never, Ever Bring This Up Again-Flash Fiction by Ralph Benton
Hip-Hop Baby-Flash Fiction byJ. Brooke
Idylls of the Queen-Flash Fiction by Dini Armstrong
Looking Cold-Flash Fiction by Stanton McCaffrey
Camera_Flash Fiction by Leyla Guirand
Ashes and Dust-Flash Fiction by Janet Hartwell
Family Man-Poem by Ann Marie Rhiel
Heads-Poem by John Grey
The Architect-Poem by Marc Carver
economy class-Poem by Meg Baird
She Knows-Poem by Bradford Middleton
Rain-Poem by Maddisyn Condora
Counter-Intuitive-Poem by Henry Bladon
An Eerie Journey Down the Invisible Staircase-Poem by Dr. Mel Waldman
A Sonnet for Elvira-Poem by Juan Perez
Unforeseen Endings-Poem by Michael Keshigian
When Her Kisses-Poem by Richard M. Prazych
In Your White Cadillac-Poem by Richard M. Prazych
Love in the Time of Wolves-Poem by Jennifer Lemming
I Do-Poem by Jennifer Lemming
a bite better-Poem by Ayaz Daryl Nielsen
hot afternoon-Poem by Ayaz Daryl Nielsen
registry-Poem by Ayaz Daryl Nielsen
Dirty Pink Lipstick-Poem by Ian Mullins
Wrestlin' Gal-Poem by Ian Mullins
Between Takes-Poem by Ian Mullins
Banjo Bob and Cassy-Poem by David Spicer
Neurotic-Poem by David Spicer
I Imagine It's Goodbye-Poem by David Spicer
A Date with Destiny-Poem by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal
Under Moonlight-Poem by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal
2020 (The Heart and the Thorn)-Poem by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal
She Loves You-Poem by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal
Cartoons by Cartwright
Hail, Tiger!
Angel of Manslaughter
The Gazing Ball
Strange Gardens
Gutter Balls
Calpurnia's Window
No Place Like Home
ALAT
Dark Tales from Gent's Pens

78_ym_hiphopbaby_nrichardson.jpeg
Art by Noelle Richardson 2020

HIP HOP BABY

by j brooke



      Hip hop, hippity hop, happiness hipster girl opting to cruise, hangin' in my sky glider, whizzing the stars, my mind; you, me, Madonna still wanting to dance to the groove. Jungle drums banging timpani at my head. Let’s do it, darlin'. I promise I won't be Elvis, Heart Break silly, and cruel.
The beat, the heat, the conga drums, sidle over here; that killer bod giggling girlish girl. Snake that silky skin around my fear, your sweetness like a candy cane. No disguise: just reality, an adventurous baby doll, an impossible dream. You, thinking that you can play with love, this girl bending, wending, and pretexting at womanhood; starving, thirsting, for too much is simply never enough.

This trying human being of way-out endings and party scenes, beginnings of no gratifying ends; playthings, body parts, and parted lips from busted pleasures and hijacked dreams, and everything stolen in between.
OK, 20-year-old, expert at nothing but sex and smiles, melting a girl’s heart and rock 'n' roll. So, you’re mine and oh, so young, Kevlar Vest wrapped around your heart and soul, and your way just so damn hip and cool, and me?

Older, wiser, vagabond wastrel of Generation X, just another sexed-out trick, again looking like the fool. Every time I kiss those striking pouts, taste that sugar trailing along your slender thighs, fuck those baby lips, adore that Pharaoh Nefertiti neck, grip for life those narrow hips, I'm heading for another emotional fucking and atomized train wreck.
Between bubblegum and bubble blues, you think you can understand, assimilate, digest, con and juke, pout and fuck, party me? And isn't that cute, you, nubile fearless baby child, sex diagnostic meter center, break heart, fast break absolute mind infusion girl of problematic woes, magnificent laser of an ice-crystal soul. No ethics, nor rules, I can see of dancing toes, girl-sex wild con, tempered in nothing real and MTV; fuck, why again don’t I know better, what is wrong with me?
Boggling my credulity once again, hemlock creature of skin, and blood, and of sin, sweat and perfect heredity of DNA. FUCK, darling, you drive me mad, make me suck my lies and secrets back, pass out, orgasm out, and make me scream.

I heard there were girls like you from the barrio; I'm just your boot-legged pleasure tool, thought it was an illusion crafted of a bullshit dream, and here you are, blown away; OK, I call your raise.

I'm all in, babylicious babe; make me believe again, make me feel my body bliss and bittersweet, there deeper in the deep. Make me realize that my life is real again, free falling and in gear; that I am alive, where before I thought I was dead.

Spread those diva legs; I think it’s time enough, baby. Don't you think enough lies have been whispered, and said?
So, place those low poker chip agate eyes on the table, please; bet mascara blues and eyelashes and pink-fire rouge, and lip gloss that reflects everything I ever thought I would never see return again.

Am I day trippin' with just the thought? I might wake within those flower-tangling arms, enclosed along my body aquiline, your breath inhaling along my own. Part of a quintet of cotton sheets and sweat and smiles and a spiraling spine; just then, when the sun sets and we can fire it up.

Just once more, doll, before the Rem wanders within the earth’s axis core of rain, because something beautiful is evolving, when everything gorgeous and tempestuous thought for me was never to exist again.
We fooled them, my pretty petulant darling girl; yes, or am I a delusional, litigated drama queen? I can hardly breathe, but you’re real, forever, for a moment; now, you’re mine, for a crystallized gem of denial is my survival stone.

My heart is faceted from your smile, and I can ask for nothing more; thank you, darling, for the gracious temporary gift of aquamarine eyes and golden rings, breasts, lips, kisses, and golden loins. 

Did I mention the rebirth of my heart? How I love you, simply and simple words, I've thrown them against the wall.

I love you. Good night, my transient wicked child. No tomorrows. . . .  

I lie, and I understand that my night is now; sweet dreams, my precious and treacherous and delicious baby doll. 

 

J brooke is a writer with over 100 credits, and never lists them. It’s simple for J., for it’s never what you have already written, but what you are going to write next. Contact info: jbrooke2001@yahoo.com


Noelle Richardson comes from a relatively large family and has been illustrating and painting for about twelve years. She writes a little on the side, plays a couple of instruments and dabbles in tattoo design.

In Association with Black Petals & Fossil Publications 2020