I have this dream that I'm a failed 1940's housewife.
And I can't get this image out of my mind.

I swear I left the iron on,
The sink is overflowing,
The roast it burning,
The twins are crying,
The washing machine is pouring out suds.
And my husband gets home....
It's a mess.

He tries to put me in my place,
Apparently I must be submissive.
He tries to **** me in the kitchen
To prove his possession of me.
I yell and scream and
When he doesn't stop....
The knives were just.....
Too close to my end of the counter.

My lawyer pleads insanity.
I just plead.

I am a poet
Sitted under the tree that breeze life
Grew inspirations
That impregnate words
That birth lines
The daughter of verses
On a floating leaf of pages

I am a poet
That listen to the beautiful paradox of pens
I climbed trees to the paragon of perfection
I'm the rhythm of the heart
Blossom of attraction
And a song of lovers' reaction

I am a poet
A painter
That can't draw
A straight line
A dancer
Stepping on toes
With a nervous shake

I am a poet
A voice of change
Advocating for peace
A face of progress
Crying for love
I act like a politician
With no lies
And no silver tongue
I stand as speakhng dumb
Saying no to corruption

I am a poet
That write for glory of the printed ink
To climb the pyramid
And look down to find out what you know
I pen for the living and the dead
The spirits in the wind
To the open road ahead
To the ghosts who sing joyfully for the living

I am a poet
Who happily suffer
For what I love doing
A poet who put himself through misery
For poetry