The brilliance of the struggle.
The Steel to flint sharpening blade.
Thought strained, but never once abandoned its course laid..,
Defined with precision.
Feeling the direction of this refreshing.
Soaking in this delicious pool of Life.
Tasting every savory drop until…
My Time is fulfilled;
I will Live…
I will Love…
I will Hope…
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….