My poetry is like a dusty dictionary
(Let me explain my origins and my complications in a way no one wants to understand)
Let me use crappy similes to show you how I cope,
using humor and understatements.
My poetry is an old fashioned general decorated with awards from experiences
(That no one wants to hear)
Let me fight my own battles on paper because
My poet tells another story from my person
And frankly my person is lame
I am a two ton printer with no ink in an underfunded school
I'm a flip phone in a middle class world
I'm one of the numbers
And I'm a percentage of who I used to be because
I'm washed out and slightly fading
Like from a washing machine that takes quarters
I'm that dictionary that doesn't fit on the shelf
My binding is broken
I'm deep in meaning but I'm hard to read
When I'm coming apart
So when I rip my hair out
And I fall down
My pages fly out
And poetry is made.
Gosh, how do I explain this... when a mommy feeling and a daddy situation love, or hate, or have any significant understandable emotion towards each other very, very much... a poem is born.
I cope using humor and understatements.
I'm the courtroom sketch artist and my captions are the colors in my voice.
I'm a poet between the doorway, looking into a room I'm been in before but I'm on my way
And not, as some may say, to the top but to wherever tomorrow lies
So listen up before I'm gone.
I'll take the stage to drop the mic
And shake the world within the night
Excite my passion
Pick up the pace
Slice me to pieces and spill out my secrets
My experience will splice me to the words I write
But I'm a lover
And I'm gone by morning.
Because this is oral documentation of every room I've been in
An ode to whomever colored me in outside the lines
And I am a room full of poets
There are voices in my head
And trust me they don't get along
Unless all I see is red and then I am one
With my pen, and I can reflect on what I've done
It is the only time I can be seen an heard with human eyes
That mistakenly think what you see is what you get
Well, I'm a blundering idiot daydreamer, sleep walking in a nightmare
My cover and title could never sum up my contents
So read me now while I'm desperate to be heard
While I scream, "Let me explain!"
Sit your asses down and listen
Because I'll be gone by tomorrow.
I'm a firecracker, sharp tongued and risky,
Critical for the night sky
I'm chasing the light
As Cerberus guards the gates I, a word shaker
From the table of Hades
I send my regards
For the impatient, I live
To illuminate darkness
But experts like me must
Immerse themselves in my trade
To be fire breathers
Is the red hot on the tip of your tongue
The red of glass shards
Hidden in the carpet
Broiling, cranking up degree
Flaming hot like time between
Life and death,
Or fast like lines
Between two sidewalks
Like teenage moms and
My burns go
Deeper than skin
Seared words in goose bumps and sweaty palms
Remembering the ash off that one poem
That one word shaker
That baptized the world fakers in
That lit a match with
A fiery lash
I held the whip of the skeptic
And uprooted a moral nation
Not in agony but with revelation
Giving redemption to those that
Thrive on iced tea.
They crashed when
The noose snapped
But I am one of those between
The finish line and the water break
Bringing a helping hand
Manifested as an infernal snake
I ignite the witness stand
With red words and knowledge
Juicy, and sweet.
Cooking up a riot
Baking discourse in our conventional society
Spitefully setting a spark to bring on
The flames. I crackle
Like cans popping into shape
And stretch like waves up the coast
I spread words like Robin Hood
before I get
Teaching for the greater good
Yet I breathe a different fire
Break tradition, spread contagion, for the musicians!
Orchestrating the swells
To be realistic.
And magnifying the hiccups
Harmonizing with misfits
Razing the masquerade
Those too afraid to hear
The shot heard around the world
The first blow of my burns
They sizzle, they know
That I'm only warming up.
My words pat your back - I'm the heimleck! The big middle finger.
My poetry invites you to sit down with me and offers you a cup of tea in my living room
While we watch the world burn around us.
So flows out my deepest words in sound bites
Ctrl+Alt+Save these feelings
File them away into my book of life.
I am disguised as a Dino Dell computer.
I'm a person held together with zebra print duct tape
A poet to make thoughts take shape
I'm stained glass, and I'm damn beautiful.