You'll See

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

With rhythm

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

I wave

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

My fury

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

Robot professors

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

Unspoken, understood. 

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. 

This poem is about: 


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