I spit it
trip it
wrap it in words
to be heard.
my lyrical
revolution
singular
evolution
of voices
inside my head
begging for life,
instead dead
at accusation
peaceful confrontation
boards
blogs
and twitter
140 character
assassinations.
I spit it
kick it
paper thru rhyme
laid out in lines
horizons
of thought
spewed out
not taught
to teach not preach
my intentions
my rage against
this political
and theological
cage
they place me in.
I spit it
kiss it
make love
and try not to miss it.
feelings rising
boisterous and chaotic
like Poe on acid
and Walton choking
on plastic,
mixing my disease
with your political relief
or so you would have it.
Segregate
deviate
separate and distort
my retort?
I spit it
piss it
try to enlist it.
the blood in me
White, Irish, Italian
and Cherokee.
I bleed to see my oppressor
a fine imitated successor
squirm.
first black
then gender base
denying life, liberty
pursuit of…
but wait
it’s all still hate!
I spit it
hit it
slam my words
against walls
like a grenade
exploding
in succession,
I take out the pen
and orchestrate
against oppression.
radically
poetically
in common words
Like Thomas Paine,
Just try to be heard.
and it’s
not that I don’t understand
your position
your egotistical
maniacal transitions
from what you know
to who you blow.
I get your opposition
to me
whilst you drink
wine forcefully
with hostility
and define my reality
But this is not chosen freely.
I have to be
me
so,
I spit it
seize it
with opportunity
knocking
I breathe it,
trying not to
hyperventilate
on the tsunami
of anger
in an effort
to not regurgitate
the same message
of equality,
but it is
the only thing
I see,
different between
you and me,
In this land
of the
supposedly free.
So I spit it
trip it
wrap it up in words
to be heard
my lyrical
revolution
singular evolution of
voices inside my head
begging for life
and avoiding death.
