Poetic.....Poetic.....Poetic
Is what everybody is now
Poetic justice is what everybody brings now
Burn the city down
Poetic
Maybe then the government will listen
Everyone a revolutionary
Poetic
Posers standing on podiums
They march for peace but plant the seed
to send you to war
Posers never on the front line
Cowards afraid to die first
Poetic
Selling dreams that don't exist like those of Mr. King
Posers afraid of death
Homosexuals of war
But far from an Alexander
Far from a Ceacer but those are who they chosen to follow since they don't lead none
Poetic
We poets don't speak up
I was going to recite with my stage name
Anonymous my alter ego
My Duo persona
Poetic
But for this everyone should see the face and now the name
Of the man who pointed out the cowards
I'm not afraid of death,
Poetic
I'm not afraid of arrest
Poetic
But the bloods the crips
The nation of islam
Should had burned down
Sallie Mae
Not mom and pop shops
Poetic
Restore the damage
Restore the damage
pay your dues
Go get your 40 acres and your mule
I dream the dream but not American
Since I live my life as if I was to die
Before being immortalize
Poetic

The whole art of versification,
the whole psychology of poetic rhythm,
the play's along with time.
Life is the volume of a poetic manual
poetic Rhythm that plays in the heart and mind
Various trials have been played in a lifetime.
The poetic heart makes a spark to
write his poetic lines of Rhythm for the world to read
To express where poetic life has been.
I am poetic at heart
with a deep poetic spark of the dark,
sometimes I write when my heart was made to bleed.
It's like my poetic music to my soul,
only a poetic would know what my heart has to hold,
I speak out in poetic Rhythm of my blues,
like a nasty Flu lost without You.
I'm outside looking at a theme
somehow it got me thinking about you,
I'm sitting, thinking, breathing
with an Ink pen in my hand
I sip at the life of the could bees of my dreams.
What a nightmare my poetic heart scream,
I must write it down in silk Ink
I could get up and walk away from my pains
But then I would lose the Rhyme of the time
of things, I could say about my poetic heartbreak.
So I sit down and cry my poetic lines
But it is like chasing dreams,
Shadows of a past that keep hunting at me,
I am a Poet at heart and soul,
Beaten down as I go,
I am not Rich, yet I am Poor,
I don't look into someones else dreams,
I've lived my own sometimes without a home,
I lost yet I have won in the long run
Because every line I write will last a lifetime.

Judy Emery © 1980
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Judy Emery

A poetic mind will never find it so hard to see the words....to feel the words...
to place the words so perfectly where he or she may want them to be...

In a poetic mind lays a soul....that has enough control to impose that words are never easy to let go...so they over flow....some darker than others...which smothered the un-uttered compact and cluttered words.....

A poetic mind will unwind from time to time....some poems will rhyme....more often than many will not....but that won't stop that poets poetic mind....day dreams of the words that fall into place in front of faces....not leaving spaces on the paper to write another un-uttered smothered word that compacts and clutters the poets poetic mind like window shutters....

A poetic mind can never let words just be...written from left to right....its just to easy to write....a mesh of words blistering the finger tips from the pen grips...and the paper scrapes...across each line because that poetic mind will find it....so easy to grind it or engrave the words...so a poetic mind becomes a slave to the paper....blank is it? to you it may be...but on a blank sheet of paper I see....words rhyming in perfect harmony....made from the poetic part of the mind of mine.....

This poetic mind won't find it hard to see....the words that I perfectly place together....whether in blue or black my poetic mind won't cut slack to the blisters on my finger tips....or let go of my pen that drips in motion that places....the words so gracious...leaving paper with no spaces to write another smothered compact un-uttered word made from a poetic mind....a mind of mine....

P.O.E.T.I.C    M.I.N.D
E.      H.         A.        E
T.      O.         T.          S
E.     M.         T.          P
R.     A.         H.          I
         S.          E.          R
                     W.          I
                                   T
                                   O
-Peter T. DeSpirito