You're not a poet
you didnt go for that bachelor in english
you don't know shakespeare or jane austin or william blake
you know you're just a phony a fake

Oh dear But let me tell you
my spoken word may not move mountains or lakes
but it lets me bleed without bleeding
it lets me cry while
stops me  and  maybe others from wanting to die
it erupts from my lungs , bursting  at the seams
it makes the hairs on strangers necks and forearms salute my words


no piece of paper can validate the words that i speak
for my words dont come from books
i speak from the pits of life you speak from remixes of your of english classics

we both can speak , we both can talk
But only one of us has come back from the walk