Seattle, WA
Poet, blogger, lawyer, educator, sista, sister, aunt, daughter, mentor, friend, dog owner, lover of music and all things gluten free... Writing about all of this and more.

Monday, April 5, 2010

what will it be, what will it be?

i just found this in my e-pile of half-written poetry saved on my comp. what will it become, what will it become? it's totally unfinished but i think i can do something with this so i'm sharing this little fragment of what it is in hopes that it will then inspire me to revisit the piece and complete it. in fact it already has inspired me to do that. thanks for reading! comments welcome.

no title yet

I’m so sick of love poems and broken hearts
They’re off target like a blind man throwin’ darts
I’m trying to start it like the way a fire grows in sparks
And builds upon itself like a tornado’s blowin’ starts

I’m sick of butterflies, breaths held, and eyes closed
Ain’t got no time to indulge in the heart's sigh-woes
I’m tryna find the flyer higher prose that gets us out our silos,
Discover rhymes that help us climb together to the higher roads

Cuz the path to revolution ain’t paved in gold
It ain’t gilded, golden bricked, it can't be bought or sold
We gotta build it with our hands feet bodies, our souls
We got to nurse it got to feed it so it grows and grows

So it goes and goes like jump forward git back
So I feel u feelin’ me even if I ain’t said s#!* yet
And you get that, and we accept the kismet
We just let we do our thing like it ain't been did yet...

That's what I'm tryna do, I ain't tryna sigh at you
I ain't tryna vy for you, I'm just trying to die for you
I'm just trying to die to self, share with you what makes me melt
put my ego on the shelf with poetry that can be felt

Poetry that can be felt by everyone down to the core
I'm talking home grown soul tongue sown and not no grocery store
chain conglomerate made, processed, manufactured thing
no I'm talking poetry that grows from me and blooms in the spring of my mind

I'm not talking blue violets or tired lines
I'm talking dirt and fertilizer, rain and sunshine...


that's it so far. i was in a totally different frame of mind at the time i started this--it is actually one of those subway poems, one of the poems i wrote on the c-train. so that was at least two years ago. time flies. wow.

thanks for reading!

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