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–