Black Poetry : Melt the Mic


Well-Known Member
Feb 1, 2006
(718) BX (540) VA (843) SC
College Student with supporting jobs

I am not myself,
But who am I?
I try to define But I am unable to confine the darting sentiments of my mind long enough to understand them or even agree.
But never will this side will the world see, I stay poised and ready,
I soul-search and draw the blue print for the person I thought I should be then I realize that tends to change every week
However, I am consistent with what I like the drive for knowledge and the practice of titillating mind games turns me on,
My being continually seeks for a soul to become one with my own,
Flesh yearns for a strong embracing hold,
Don matter the race as long as he’s bold,
Speaking in his own rhythm undressing my psyche with every stanza given,
His soliloquy makes love to me becomes stuff of midnight fantasies,
Before reality hits and conscience verifies,
slow down your better off alone right now,
the world is to cold, you love to hard,
to soon his verse drew you in, but this is a clue you seek to be caressed and teased with syllables, drunk off interlocking verbs may be dirty but sensational
Driven to complete ecstasy by this intellectual connection
a process that reigns in off beat anomalies then kick pushes out lyrical masterpieces,
engaging the world as we know it using non-esoteric phrases to compose then divulge it,
But who am I?
Once this connection has been made,
The quill pen unleashed upon the page,
Once complex variables of thought become organized,
in order to convey a message that may be scrutinized,
I ask, Who am I?
HUMMP. . . . .A Paradox .
I am Not myself.
But a compilation of things that cut through me intravenously,
An undying proclamation of destiny,
my life spitten pure through poetry,
equipped with a work ethic that will elevate me to the likes of Donald Trump or Opera Winfrey,
See my name will become synonymous with the greats Maya & Langston,
Wealth and fame can not keep my hunger at bay,
As long as there are injustices someone has to pay,
The Bayou refuges and reconstruction isn’t going anywhere,
Poets take it upon themselves to be the voice of the voiceless calling out the government having the balls to say what everyone else is thinking anyway!
But no matter how many times I look for self- reconfirmation I come up empty handed because I can not live down this talent
I’ve been given to speak revealed truth in a world of lies and you ask
I am a POET!!!


Da Street So'ja

Well-Known Member
Jun 11, 2001
where failure is not an option
thrivin' spiritually/physically/emotionally/financ

Sha'iyn said:
some peoples minds play chess and some people's minds play checkers
yours is playing yahtzee

good write


yo phat piece here poet

you laid this

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