The closest I ever came to understanding poetry
was in that crowd, at that hip hop show
and I know you're thinking
"come on kid, rap isn't poetic"
but i could never forget it
the live band blending seamlessly
the predetermined rhythms a symphony
which carried me away to infinity
And when my savior
clutched that microphone in his hand
it began to dawn on me
save your understandings, be one in a crowd
the words flowed out from the mic like jazz
and I knew that i didn't have to worry about being seen as
an over privileged, over educated, over sheltered
white boy who would toy with the idea of fitting a scene
it's more than just a phase
I'll take every last E.P. to the grave
and I will always support
those who have something to say.

It was okay to be lost
nobody is born with a map
but through that rap
I found the pace I'd like to walk at
until I'm in a lovely place, free from my fat
where street preachers use their words
like hot air balloons
and carry me away into the clouds
it seemed certain that I had found my crowd

Art
What an extraordinary sort of immortality

“Art washes away,
from the soul the dust of everyday life.”
No more pain, stress or strife.
“Have no fear of perfection,
you'll never reach it.”
So don't ever throw a fit.
“I saw the angel in the marble,
and carved until I set him free."
Amazed by what beauty could come from me.
"Art is not a thing;
it is a way."
So carpe diem... seize the day.

Emotions run deep, and deeper they must seep
But what do they seek?
Nothing but sheltering words,
be it from a Sheik, or a Greek.

The imagery is both out-worldly and unspeakably realistic
We try to find a way, a channel, a historical shuttle
Only to have it expressed in vague words
"Here, another puzzle".

The words dance in rhythms and riddles
Sometimes unfathomable,
Yet once aligned, they cast a spell.

The spell is poetry.. and it has a society
Countless souls, and souls yet to come
11th of August, marked the arrival of its rightful king
Tired and tireless, a lifetime of embodying poetry

O captain, my captain!

Let us roam the forgotten streets and share a bottle of cheap gin

Let us whisper inappropriate jokes into the ears of those who deem suicide a great sin!

And Let us remember that once conscious, mankind was in tragedy,
but through comedy, we found our remedy.

Rest in Pieces,
For I swear to Jesus, I can hear your laugh at "Pieces".

Lost myself again
in this trivial world
of plain facts and knowledge

Bored of my prospects
aspirations and dreams

"You have potential!"
Yeah, and so did Helen Keller
but I bet she was happier
knowing her limitations

The lost conquest
of the inner self
plagues my mind
making ruins
of my achievements

If you truly are
what you have done
then in truth
you will always be
a shadow of your deeds

I am a man
of what I could of done
a procrastinator
with low self esteem

So walk on,
Men of virtue
walk on,
Men of grace
I grow tired
of your idols
I grow tired
of your ideals.

The glass grates
against my teeth

The beer flows
nicely on down

The rhythm
with time
and metre
goes
against
the flow

but

With a lack
of care or concern
I can break
these *****
little
habits
in order
for me to experience
a sense
of
literary
freedom

Even if
it does
scratch the eyes
and burn the ears

Even if
it never pays
for a mortgage
or
a new car

At least

At the very least

It will distract me
from the torments
of regime
routine
and God awful
reality

Writing really was
the first
and last
noble human invention.