Listening to Check Your Head.
Hard to write when you got that booming system,
but I’ll try and flex my rhythm
in this lyrical kingdom.
Obi is by my side.
He’s chewing on his Celtic bandanna,
and I am Reverend RUN on the Microphone.
Poetry has been freeing since the beginning.
Since then Winna’s been winning,
and it’s late in the evening.
The twilight is dimming, Obi is barking
and I keep on grinning,
’cause I got this outlet to write.
Before coffee, after coffee, you can’t stop me.
Nipping at my elbow, Obi wants me to let go,
throw the bone, give the little guy attention.
Beastie Boys on the record.
Chase me around! he says,
And I say I’m writing Dead Prez.
MCA Rest easy, I got this writing down,
believe me.
Wicked is the instrument, I play the keys.
Might not be the best at it, but its okay.
Might not be a poet’s poet, but that’s alright.
I get through, rhythm stick, hip hop linguist.
Maybe a poet was what I was branded.
The moon landing brought me down and brought
me a sandwich, and I said thanks to ET
and the mighty Beastie
for giving me the Three with my coffee.
And Happy Birthday to the Low End Theory,
Not going to say it’s been easy, but I keep on
typing on the computer keys.
They say its Gratitude, and I keep it on chillin’
’cause the microphone ain’t cooling down
when I get this feeling.
Maybe you are better than me poet,
lyrical and metaphorically speaking.
Maybe you got it on lock
and key, and key and lock,
but the ink in me keeps me breathing.
So, I’ll give respect to you and say,
you got it, you win, dog.
But I have been ill since 1980
when my mommy had me and
I was a little baby.
When the Doctor gave me away,
he gave me a pen and pad,
and my mom and dad named me,
blessed me to Wright.
And I’ve been doing it all day, all night.
Till the day I die, I will write it.
Til the breath flows out of my body,
I will be POETRY.


Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly. His new book is Train of Thought.