I
Oh how it is quite strange, clowns and princes
along with me, share hits and misses
And how we work, eternities to construct
One man always stood beside me
So here is some spoken word poetry
About my Duck
All these stepping stones, its such a big climb
I gotta just put my nose to the grind
why yes my mass was shapeless, but definitely not aimless a hand full of aces, as my box of tools simply out rules those with mere jacks.
A capering clown
in sawdust mounds
I would never be allowed
and that’s a fact
lessons learned on ones own, yet taught by others
And I discovered
the blood that doesn’t connect us brings us closer to one another
no relation which cause the creation by which leaves me fulfilled
Last name: Banks. First Name: Bill
The reason I know skill doesn’t breed passion, passion breeds skill
Now, Though outrageous,
I must say that only the mans good values were contagious
and although the man ages,
the books cover changes,
not the pages
II
On the topic of books, lets take a look
a copy manipulate with traits
of stone written rules
That William had the jewels
to chip loose
I call him Duck
But these actions wont get him confused for a goose
A book of rules in which every one is to receive, Billy Banks believed that mine needs to interweave his own recipe
The reason I keep tricks outside of my sleeves
the reason i wasn’t deceived by the ease of being naïve
The reason my metaphors are as deep as seas
He is the reason I dare to believe that I am the sea and life is a simple little fish swimming inside of me which I can control just not directly
its always with me but can be caught up on hooks, tangled up in seaweed
so when is pleads, I attend to its needs
with guarantees of bachelor degrees
and although it will not come with ease the sea calms the storms breeze, clean its debris and fathom that hard work is to be worked hard but always is always done correctly
I change the tide so the fish swims not always straight but always with strides.
When the stones hurt the feet to be a climber
Duck is always there with a reminder
Though its deep, I reap
The benefits of being gifted everyday by the array of knowledge portrayed
In the celebration of the man on his birthday
III
So like Obama
I wanna
Make you believe “Yes I Can”
No man, No object, No figure, No wall
Stand in my way from achieving it all
And Believe is my suggestion
Cause the guaranteed truth is good to invest in
All this?
I give credit to the book Duck did edit
So let it
Be known that I stand a grown *** man,
And with these hands let me reach from my soul and pull
within me the key That unlocks the box of tools that help create eternity
and trust me
I was equipped properly
A level to keep my head on straight
A bucket, to help evenly displace life’s weight
A set of blank keys to open any of life’s gates
A chisel and a hammer, my own identity to create
A ladder to climb from the holes I dig myself into
And shovel to fill and forget no regrets and its all just bliss
Like a pig tattoo that never did exist
And finally a broken compass
Not to make me fail, but to force me to blaze my own trail
So when the stones get high and I need a break from the climb
Duck makes sure I know there is always time
IV
So I swear and you know it
And if you don’t he would love to show it
One simple push, poke or a shove
And he will have you believing he is busting out the golden gloves
Doesn’t that sound like the man we all love
The lesson taught?
backing down
means your not at the top
Forcing over stepping stones so quickly on this climb
Duck made me know to do my damage in my prime
So at seventy five,
you are still alive
And to nobody here is it a surprise
Another story of the scar
Another cigar
To smoke
Your too up to date to even be called old folk
So at seventy five
you are still alive,
and to me it sure isn’t a surprise.
And Duck I want you to know to me you will never die.
and let it be known, I refuse to use your present tools as my stepping stone
As everybody’s life path must be created on their own.
So as I refuse to use your present tools as my stepping-stone
The man that I named Duck taught me to reach the tops thrown
And I will never ever quit climbing….
*A tribute to my Grandfather Duck on his 75th Birthday. A spoken word remix of a poem he taught me, that has been the motto to my life - R.I.P Bill "Duck" Banks