Poetry Makes Me

Hey, I'm just a poet. Words pumping warm in my veins like similies. Bones are metaphores. And the rest, the rest hasn't been written yet....
Gye Nyame Soldier

Knowledge

Knowledge
Rushing against minds to draw them current.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

My Drum


I rotate to my…
I rotate to my…
I rotate to my own drum
Ink spitter spatters pitter patters when my words run
Jim Carry consciousness I leave you lookin’ dumb dumb
Dumber dumber you don’t get it guest I lost one
Fugees refugee domestic Katrina’s son
Chameleon pigments message hidden when I spit some
Hum drum conundrums I leave em wondrun  

when obnoxious artist word vomit word vomit with an upchuck
Kilimanjaro I blast em all when I erupt
Explosive chakra natures native in my element
Intelligence strikes like serpents tongue oops… you’ve been bit
Poisonous to ignorance see it’s not dangerous
I’ll Della Reese and hold ya hand we walk where angels went
Spoken doors into holiness
Fix ya broke mental like my words was a stimulus
Check
Microphone check
Microphone check
One…two…
Can you hear me?

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