A string of words

"Poetry is lighthearted, fun, and pret​ty!" says the teacher 

well this student says,"FUCK THAT!"



For all the times I've been pissed off, let down, upset, wronged, estranged, 

pissed on, spit on, beat down, and trapped, there was poetry.

My life is the canvas as I use this paint brush to unleash this heat

this fire that arose inside ,the fire they tried to hide because they were terrified.

Poetry that flows off the tongue like silk, and then hardens like sheetrock, when I open 

another can of this pure, raw, uncut Poetry.

These words are here, to inform, persuade,and to explain. 

My words weren't meant to be sugarcoated, watered down, and bleached up.

These words are nothing to play with.


Poetry is my tool

and with it I can construct the most sick verse

infastructed by profain foundation

Poetry is harsh

poetry is cold

poetry is hot 

poetry is bold 

poetry is beauty

poetry is gorgeous 

This system of words is branded as just figurative 

 but won't be limited by my prose and blank verse.


Fuck surrealism, and FUCK abstraction, these words will not be used to 


but rather 

stand for justice. 

The world doesn't have time for another fairy tale, and neither do I.


I might not rhyme when I want

I might not illustrate my words as I intended,

But I'm still gonna speak 

and my poetry will be there for moral support.



This poem is about: 



Really awesome sauce. I love your rhythm.

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