Thursday, 1 May 2014

Inner View...


I am the poet above the city,
and below the clouds,
I am quiet behind my pen,
but as a person can be loud,

Spoken Word
I perform for any crowd,
I don't keep anything in,
everything be coming out.

Thoughts transcend,
Words I love to bend,
freestyle does not know
the next corner,
either way Ima reach the end;

I haven yet begun....

I do what I do
to help,
I do what I do
to teach,
Like B.T it's good to talk,
God Talk, don't mistake it for
a preach.

I speak from my good book,
some scriptures
came out of bad experience,
I saw good and thought...
why not add that to my deliverance;

I'm not what I appear to be,
I am adaptive so I tend to
change my appearance,
close without knowing it,
my dream is within distance,
what I thought impossible,
with effort I can
wield into existence.  

It's been a long time Buzzing, 
and a change gone come, 
it's been to hard living,
that's why as i'm alive
ima be about the giving,
I will never keep a secret from you,
I believe knowledge shouldn't be hidden;

But never think you know it all,
the more you know, the more
you realise you're a fool,
and fall, you should never carry
big thoughts if your actions are small...

rise up to your words,
when I write, I make sure
they're heard by the heavens birds,
speak like I'm moving herds;

Shepard to the lambs,
walk them away from
the road of sacrifice,
show them the greener side
of life and will never misguide...

Lord... you know I try... 

All I understood was to be me, 
it's hard to be someone else,
lost in another's image,
I found being myself not
only fun, but it was easy;

It's cool the majority find
me complicated,
I find the exaggerated,
ideas... out dated,
more like copy and paste...
STICK...

Stick to the conformist way,
stick to the directed,
you a puppet in the play
strings on the smallest violin
is what you hear as you 
bitch about your day, 
talking "They treat me like a dog"
but it's you who chooses to stay.

I offer you half my wisdom, 
Half my vision, 
a full heart is what you see, 
and it beats a unique rhythm, 
you can't here it if your mind 
is in tune with a mentality, 
which represents prison, 
the only ones who can 
dance to my hearts strings 
are the children of the prism.

I am your poet above the city
not below in the 
muck and the mire
just high enough to escape it's misery, 
except this writer has not go a psychotic fan, 
just a pen, 
black book and sometimes 
a bottle of Hennessy.  

although I am below the clouds
soon to fly with the light beings
as they will pick me out of the dark crowds....  

"My Love is my expression, 
I hate to waste life, 
I write for life... 
so I can teach both
you and me a lesson"

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