Sep 2014
Papers stained with the intention of creation not to mention inspiration; what else is there to say?
Words don’t rhyme, rhythm off?
Forget proper grammar; it don’t even matter.
Writing quick ‘cause it’s killing me; the words blind me ‘til they’re all I see ‘i’ ‘c’, ‘i’ before ‘e’ except after ‘c’; there’s a rule for the grammar **** in me, all for some nonsense poetry.
Don’t peg me as a revolutionary; I’m just a girl trying to find her place in a world not ready to see with eyes like hers. But there’s a poet in me.
A poetic soul, like a void inside, a deep dark hole only these words can hide.
Lay down my expectations and last minute explanations ‘cause I’m running out of time to sell you this line or lie – whichever you prefer.
Open to negotiation but not your adaptation or alteration; I’m sick of it.
Don’t censor me, above the ******* industry; I’m writing ******* prophecy.
Strung out like another me, alternate reality, nothing between but blackness, a time lapse, a ******* realm of nonsense or maybe it’s just poetic license.
It’s hard to tell with everybody screaming at me. All of ‘em telling me to be or not to be but it isn’t real, least not to me, but it doesn’t matter.
This world’s gonna beat the soul right outta me and Imma let it.
Don’t have the ******* drive to make it happen; just sit back and watch the action like a scene straight off the silver screen, reading lines derived from the paradigm meaning ‘til they’re meaningless, even less, lower than the score on my last Pre-Calc test.
It’s for the best I guess, cause the pressures off (though if it was ever on it had me fooled from start to finish).
I’m in this and don’t think I can’t win this; there’s nothing I can’t accomplish if I put my mind to it and invest my time.
This is mine; a personal test of triumph over temptation versus all’s clear and smooth sailing. I’d rather bust my *** and fail than be worthless, getting everything my way on a silver dish.
I’m strong as iron, tough as nails, and with the wind in my sails I’m taking off, blasting off, into that nothing between here and actuality.
I’ll see you on the other side if you’ve got the ***** to try and follow me.
Words don’t rhyme, rhythm off?
Forget proper grammar; it don’t even matter.
Writing quick ‘cause it’s killing me; the words blind me ‘til they’re all I see ‘i’ ‘c’, ‘i’ before ‘e’ except after ‘c’; there’s a rule for the grammar **** in me, all for some nonsense poetry.
Don’t peg me as a revolutionary; I’m just a girl trying to find her place in a world not ready to see with eyes like hers. But there’s a poet in me.
A poetic soul, like a void inside, a deep dark hole only these words can hide.
Lay down my expectations and last minute explanations ‘cause I’m running out of time to sell you this line or lie – whichever you prefer.
Open to negotiation but not your adaptation or alteration; I’m sick of it.
Don’t censor me, above the ******* industry; I’m writing ******* prophecy.
Strung out like another me, alternate reality, nothing between but blackness, a time lapse, a ******* realm of nonsense or maybe it’s just poetic license.
It’s hard to tell with everybody screaming at me. All of ‘em telling me to be or not to be but it isn’t real, least not to me, but it doesn’t matter.
This world’s gonna beat the soul right outta me and Imma let it.
Don’t have the ******* drive to make it happen; just sit back and watch the action like a scene straight off the silver screen, reading lines derived from the paradigm meaning ‘til they’re meaningless, even less, lower than the score on my last Pre-Calc test.
It’s for the best I guess, cause the pressures off (though if it was ever on it had me fooled from start to finish).
I’m in this and don’t think I can’t win this; there’s nothing I can’t accomplish if I put my mind to it and invest my time.
This is mine; a personal test of triumph over temptation versus all’s clear and smooth sailing. I’d rather bust my *** and fail than be worthless, getting everything my way on a silver dish.
I’m strong as iron, tough as nails, and with the wind in my sails I’m taking off, blasting off, into that nothing between here and actuality.
I’ll see you on the other side if you’ve got the ***** to try and follow me.
Spoken Word, Stream of Consciousness
