Whoop whoop, I can’t help it,
Buddy I’m so fired up,
I can’t help but spill it outta me
Like I’m on fire! A bundle of sticks aflame.
Can I tell you some secrets?
Can I hide ’em in these words?
Man it depends how you read it,
This time I’m not gon’ spoon feed it
Read it like it’s rap, tell me you think it’s crap
But honestly it’s just poetry, man, I can’t bust rhymes!
But these are the words inside my head
They rattle around, don’t pronounce me dead!
There is a city
That’s just as much a mountain
As it is a wooded valley
And it’s just as much a city
As it is a small town
And it’s as much a small town as it is a meadow
With peace and rest and joyfulness!
Did you know it’s possible
To shut down suicide
When it screams, bucks and writhes,
When it threatens to split your insides?
Did you know that bitterness
And anger, malice, rage,
Can all go out the window
When you give up the reins?
It’s true, I promise, and I’m nowhere close to perfect,
But just like this prose/poetry, please see,
It’s the heart that’s talking now, not my mindset.
So I’ll turn these tears into gears,
Cogs in the machine, these are extra years!
See it’s Victory now, and what grows in me sticks.
I’m no longer a victim to statistics!
I’m not being lame,
Lameness doesn’t make you want to punch me in the face.
I’m not stupid,
Stupid might call this poetry.
I’m not self deprecating, I just have no clue what I’m doing,
But these words come out Somehow, who do you think I should blame?
Either my meds make me insane or I’m onto something right,
I’m not doing this myself, which problem should I fix first?
But somehow three months ago, all I could do was face five minutes,
And now I can tell you with a light in my eye,
Today I can’t wait for tomorrow, no word of a lie.
If that’s not growth,
Then I’ve got no hope,
I might as well just give up
Stringing myself up a rope…
But I keep saying,
I’m just a donkey braying.
Man do I have to beg?
For you to hear what I’m saying?
I fall flat
On my face every day.
I talked smack
About me to me just yesterday.
But staying down
Man that’s just spinning tires
In the slush, spin, making ice,
I just can’t beat this funk.
Sometimes it takes a battle cry,
Other times it’s a long sit in silence,
Every day I’m sharpening my blade,
This identity’s mine, I’m heaven made.
Once I was a torture victim,
And my mind still bleeds,
But now I’ve been made a demon hunter
Crushing darkness, breaking asunder
Fortresses of emptiness
Dungeons of utter blackness,
Snares of despair, enemy bramble,
Making every monster tremble.
Kicking face, feeding on grace, Master’s Ace.
Yeah we gotta keep pace, who’s got time to save face?
Let me lend some light, lightly enlighten, and lighten the load,
See what sneaks, snaps, snares, seduces your spirit, soul, solace,
Kills, creeps and conquers with corruption, crime, carnality,
Oppressively impressing its imperfect opportunities of opulence,
Depriving, depraving, distressing, depressing, damning and disastrous,
What’s wily will always wear a werewolf’s wig where wolves wig out.
I will always mind in my mind’s eye
The watchful wary, unwearying waiting
Of hope on high, history is nigh.
When we see, will you weep or wilt?
Do I dare disclose this dispirited deposition?
What weight watchful men wear, wise watchman?
Far faithful flickering of faith’s fearless flame.
Bear burden, somber burro, borrow bolster and bray!
For nigh approaches fateful day,
Of grateful fear and terrifying fright.
Yonder ‘proaches beautiful Light,
The memory of fate’s greatest day
Draws closer ever than yesterday.