Monday, 28 May 2012

I am just a artist in poetry

Maybe the world called for peace

in my birth not knowing that my strength

was civilized, lysed on the brain in words.

though my hands look strong and fit, musculated

but my strength is hindered in the braincells.

Hindered by blocks of words that keep on shouting

expel me, infect her while you disinfect him.

I am just a poet

a poet that his is not leg made to burn, space, scatter the world with the word

but to state the statement of harassment, embarrassment

puncture them with solutions, suggestions mandated

to change the world, reposture, reframe though at times I hurt.

I am just a poet

poet filled with lines of love as if I was the first articulation

antibody of love, like a vaccine I depth my lines of remembrances

to propel smiles, tears, laughter’s, grieve

whilst building, rebedding wishes, dreams and hopes with

I deal gas as if I ever knew any as science does in combustion.

I am just a poet

the lines of religion breathed from my nose

are a symbol of how at nature I'm defined,

with no intrigued line of calories, like steam

I envy the thoughts of infected faith; sterilize the wish of defeating those who are

walking on their righteousness. I split acid where no human stand

for the one designed me is above my imagination as I link through his image.

I exhale no love no hatred but solidified thought

of where your faith is stated, placed, conquered and quarantined.

I am just a poet

Under my shoes are footsteps of art “I love poetry"

those steps that make me real, to speak clean and clear

crystal like diamonds reflected along the brim.

I am not a rapper but a raper for I rape your mind

instill on your lost world, intrigue your concentration at my own will

give it no justice rendering it rough with no preparation,

I am the a serial killer for I killed your thoughts, plans and infected you with

my dearest words as the worries, doubts, anger and hatred desurface my your life.

I am a tsunami for in my presence senses are being lost

around my voice hymns with breeze as clouds show shapes fuse with me

for you, happiness written bold and preciously uttered over your face.

I am death myself for as my voice echo along your ears

penetrating the parallel lines in your eardrum they subtract the fossiled imagination

and stimulate tears “for death is just about tears"

I am a poet.......... be continued.....................