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A Moment of Clarity… #Poem

So here I stand/ audience curious/ cameras rolling/ verses upon verses on the ready/ heart pumping blood furiously/ glands injecting adrenaline/ hands steady/ belly feeling better now that I’ve snapped into character/ Butterflies now fly away freely/ and my gut is resting easy/ No longer am I nervous although I embrace that energy/ I embrace that synergy/ a combination of passion, inspiration and a lust to leave a legacy/ The energy I speak of is potential and kinetic/ and it’s pathetic how nervousness makes emcees betray momentum and say forget it/ When in reality they shouldn’t sweat it/ Words flash across my mind/ faster than the dust that made it past your blinking eye/ you’re not blind though/ even though/ those who envy will pretend to be/ What I just did/ was give individuals a visual/ I’m loved and hated because my approach isn’t typical/ My style is as random as a windy day and the path of a falling feather/ with the bird representing the Lord and the ground representing you and I together/ With an ordained path of flight/ On this most auspicious of nights/ We now walk open ear and spoken word through the gallows of my mind/ to visit the wine cellar of my soul/ crushed grapes personify the telling of best kept secrets/ the elixir is the verse/ that quenches the thirst/ for those who want me to keep it a hundred/ testimony is the proof/ as long as you can decipher graffiti letters/ Sincerity my ink of choice/ it never fades and lasts forever/ Despite bad weather and those niggers of every color who refuse to come together/ Sour is the petty thief when there’s no open window to exploit an opportunity/ so the best that they can do to the real poets like you and me/ is try to clone/ flipping what we said/ failing to be clever/ a copy of a copy of a copy/ sloppy/ and not better/ than the source material/ which they hate to be true to/ So I fuck with them constant/ This is what I do/ I bend words crazy with pad and pencil/ Into shapes they cannot stencil/ Like the one’s you’ll hear now without background instrumentals/ tonight is the night where the tip of the tongue finds the fold of the clit/ tonight is the night where you drive home and say I can’t believe he said that shit/ Tonight is the night where chocolate mushrooms drip liquid sugar on cherry stems/ Tonight is the night where David beats Goliath with intentions to replace him/ you see we both represent ideal and selfless orgasms because tonight we’re going to cum together/ It’s time for me to bring my people home/ independent thinkers/ you are not alone/ If you have found no need for the Devil’s charity/ An epiphany called love filled me with white light and this resulting verse is my moment of clarity…
GB

This is a performance piece…
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author/novelist/poet also known as Graffiti Bleu, loves and lives in northern California. He was born in New York City and received some serious game and [learn more]

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