Writing the art of
Walking in slow motion
While everyone flys past you
You prove yourself as a distance
That they can’t get to
You are a star a bright constellation
All of us
World players
In trouble shooting

Us poets and us dreamers
Don’t need your approval
To do what we do
While you may be see through
We show you our heart
Poets have looking glass souls
We see the sights and decipher
In ciphers, we are writers
We are future fire starters
Lighting enlightened leaders
Teachers of truth
Soul speakers
Mute till the mic check
Then we stand In front
Of a crowd
Boos and hisses, people try and diss us
But before the first stone is thrown
They hear our poems
And we all feel something
And not just alone

Cause we are all lost
In all sorts of skin
But we are all one
Poets in motion
If there are a million fish in the sea
Then there’s a million more reading poetry
Writing, graphing walls
We the statistic of misfits
With sharpies and black ink
But I notice this
There are different schools
Traditional or with rhythm
Rhyming traditional
Or relaxing in a pocket of circular
And sequential
All these schools were all in school
Writing in notebooks
Not because it was cool
But because math is boring
And we needed something to do
I wrote notes and drew letters
Put together sentences
In rhythm
A poet shows a certain wisdom
Though I might sound stupid to you
Don’t look like you
Or look angry or ugly
Or confused
I am one step above
Cause I do this for love
And It make me something
When otherwise I would just be
Scrambled and waiting to be eaten
A quick meal for society
A quick statistic
A lowered middle class
Grad with shitty concentration
But I reinvent myself with a pen and a pad
And damn just like that
I feel good again

Poetry is my medicine
A Kerouac concoction
A natural high

A weakling reading Bukowski
Became a bard and a bar fly at the same time


boo ya Eggs!