I have been writing poetry for over ten years now; it has been, for me, a place of safety, a place where I find a soft flowing current amongst the chaotic storms of life. Poetry is where I share my dreams– and nightmares, poetry is where…

I Flow

I flow poetry as naturally as leaves on trees producing eloquent verses holding wisdoms’ value in paragraph purses

no matter what life issues come they get easily converted to fuel for my tongue

loading bullets into my yellow #2 gun, shedding lead,

paper tablets soaking up ink the color of red

bleeding power scriptures taking wisdoms’ fists to the head

knowing my words prophetically flow poetry as naturally as leaves on trees

dropping seeds hoping for rain latter
raising my heights upon Jacobs ladder ascending, no pretending, writing my way through this maze, flowing, floating upon the currants of life so naturally actually–

poetry is ME….

To move or proceed with great rapidity, this is…



I gotta grow -up.

I must put away childish things playing handcuffs flung from a sling, tip- toe’n on rusted springs,

my up’s are low, my belief is slow, a change in frequency is needed;


to new altitude taking control of the things I pursue

My movements are at the speed of blind ,a blur,


to extract what’s the potent formula in me I see the essence of majesty

Primary soul extraordinary spirit answering the call when I see it,

hearing amazing intelligence from seven dimensions beyond third,


is me finally in position walking this righteous path given, procuring understanding,


all grown-up now, thanks I’m giving feeling weightless,


much more fulfilling my fears absent, nameless–


I got a yes

I got a yes!
By Edward LIMITLESS Taylor III

Am I your beloved?
Am I your Son?
Am I going to see the joy filled days you promised me?
Am I gonna walk in the health of my soul prospering,
Living life through your Son the Word?
Are my thoughts pleasing to your eye’s?
Are my praises honored by the attention of your ears?
Can you hear me when I call?
Am I secured in your hand, Shielded from the effects of the Fall?
“Now arise my Son for you are blessed put your mind at rest for you this day have obtained a Yes….”

This poem pays homage to the city I am from as well as symbolizing the emotional turmoil a person can go through, this is….


Tear drops fall from eye clouds, the build up of the pain inside has grown too loud, to hold it in any-longer would mean death by blunt-force trauma, too retain it would resemble the feeling of laying upon a cushion of Space Needles piercing my soul with-in;

Tear drops fall from eye clouds, which once held a look so proud, even the mirror shouted loud, “thou art the fairest,” now it looks back saying, “I’m embraced,” losing focus of the vision I cherished, head spinning faster then the downtown fairest-wheel, round & round;

Tears fall from eye clouds, longing for the peace that hides behind the gray shroud, above, looking for love that’s evergreen, captivating as a clean mountain scene cascading in view, hoping that this rain can purge me through and through;

Tears drop from eye clouds, sourced from thoughts bound in The Clink sinking into hypothetical fears, these 206 tears dropping into a union of lakes, sandy shores prone to Earthquakes;

Tear drops fall from eye clouds, air-porting my hopes above this storm reserving them, preserving them under volcanic ashes, from them grows grapes of the past bursting Merlot underfoot;

Tear drops fall from eye clouds, the Puget sounds, cool winds chill crowns in this storm, in this Seattle rain that pounds….

Am I alone? Is a question a person finds themselves asking on this journey through life, brought on by moments where one feels overwhelmed by their duties, relationships and other commitments. A person may feel that their the only ones bearing the load, longing for aid, I had a moment such as this, so I wrote…

Is Anybody Out there?

Is somebody out there…?

Is somebody out there bruised and broken?

Is somebody out there closed eye’s hope’n

Is somebody out there willing to take that leap

is somebody out there playing dodge ball with the light that seek’s?

Is somebody out there cutting ties to bitter memories?

Is somebody out there wandering if they can make it to the end?

Is somebody out there?!

Somebody that cares;

Somebody who can cancel the poisonous effects of my fears,

Is somebody,


out here on a limb with me wanting to see if they can sore, waiting for the strength to fly once more?


I’m asking,

is anybody out there…?

This poem was inspired by a documentary on Hip-Hop directed by Hip-Hop artist Ice-T. This is…

Behind Bars

My life exists between measurements, between the tick-tock, tick-tock, tempo following a beat that never stops;

vocal portraits seen in every line written, but have you ever taken time out to find out what’s the meaning behind?

my life exists between measurements,
at the edge of a pen is where it begins
too take shape formed from thoughts dwelling on life experiences;

I am a window to the soul of man; from the heart I’m sent with a plan to convey a message purposed to keep hands raised, to evoke strength so one can stand through the craze of the day to day grind easing the may-day’s off the mind.

My life exists between measurements beginning in ancient days when Griot’s told tales and fables, I existed before time had tables, each line is mine;

I am more than a rhyme,

I am the story of a young son hustling on the corner,

I am the story of a young daughter left on her own to roam,

I am history written to melody,

I am the written word spoken giving those who hear a picture of one’s personal Heaven or Hell,

I AM the antidote when all prescriptions fail!

My life exists between measurements, between the tick and the tock; I am woven in to the soul of Hip-Hop, Country, Rock, Rhythm and Blues long before I was sold slave to the “Pop-charts,”

My life existed…!

between measurements, between the tick- tock, so why is the light darkening?

Why has the beat stopped…?!

What happened to the tick-tock,

MY! tick-tock….

Aperture- an opening, as a hole, slit, crack, gap, etc.

In View

My hope stacks as a bull-work against on coming attacks fighting the urge to back track

slack used to be my I.D. but now I seek for truth with-in me trying to see through dim vision piercing

gazes attached to a foggy mirror, HELP ME see clearer,

“mirror mirror on the wall tell me the truth of it all;”

an awkward pause follows…,

it seems that truth pills are hard to swallow, but,

I digress

I refuse to wallow in self induced stress stretching my scope wider so I can see my desire in panoramic perception

drinking the cup of correction altering the scene in front of I,

eyesight drawn to a sliver of an opening splitting the gray

daylight screams through an aperture view leaving me to see what is–


I just hope I can hold on to you, my desire in view….