i close my eyes and listen and my mind's all muffled drums
beating like they're bleeding, i know where the struggle comes
from, and it's like walking through a graveyard for dead poetry
stillborn and murdered, there's a killer, and i know her, she's
me, and she be on some ol' "oh i'm so busy"
fills her life with so many to-do's you could lose yourself, get dizzy
from the distractions whizzing past you, taking up your breathing space
so i'm in this grieving place
remembering the sweetness
tasting the time i used to let my mind go boom-clap-bip-bop
now it's muffled, muted, whispered beats, and yet they don't stop
so i don't place any flowers on no headstones for my art
i lay hands on that dead soil and resuscitate the hearts
of those withered things
dried up words like dead moth wings
my prayer brings grace and resurrection
another chance to create life through introspection
my repentance and confession is i fail to count my blessings
in this artform, which feeds me, teaches me life lessons
from now on no half steppin and no time for second guessin
it's just time to unplug my mind's ear, time to hear each session
of drum beats in clear succession...
still working on this, but in its own spirit, i think it's important to throw out what i have so far.