To write, to write
Yes these words do excite...
A sleeping giant of sorts
Whose brow has not been tested
And how carefully invested -
Scrambled verse is attested
                                              To a rhymic riddled head

Untouchable, you was playing your bass guitar.
Like Steve Miller's singing about the Gangster of Love.
You brought that image to the Ohio Players.
After the group transformed from the Ohio Untouchable.

If Sly Stone, was proclaiming to take people higher.
You got them there singing upon the song Fire.

A musical theme that's still rocks today.
With the soul of your vocals on lead.
With your 'fro hung down upon your face.
Only few could comete against you.

Shame, you never recorded a song called "Sugarfoot Blues".
I'm sure that bass rhymic playing would blew the  the fans apart.

While many limited minded music expert called you a soul god.
To many fans, you were a African American rock star.
Jimi Hendrix, stands out.
Excep that's on the electric guitar.

Similar to Larry Graham, you was too dangerous to mess around.

Like riding that Love Roller Coaster.
I didn't want to touch the ground.
Cause I want to be free to enjoy the breeze.

Brother Leroy has been called to the supreme kingdom.

There were numbers in our equation and
The numbers were always slightly off but
Surely I had been right,
And put the 1 after the =
And then put 1 + 1 before it, right?
It was 1 + 1 = 1
But you changed it.
Your body changed,
You mind changed,
Your heart changed
And put a 2 behind the =
Which made us into
1 + 1 = 2.
We were one, rhymic, pulchritudinous,
Believed to be the one who lasted forever
Even despite our inability to always add up.
But at the end of everyday,
My equations stayed the same
1 + 1 = 1.
But to you, mine was never right.

She held me and
I held her.
Sometimes one of us would cry or
sometimes we'd fall asleep.
I'd mostly fall asleep to the
Sweet sound of her rhymic
Breath or
Her short but surely
sweet yawns.
I'm still wondering--
Am I the only friend that
she's let hold her
at night?

It just seems funny because
None of her other friends seem like the
Type who would do that
And I even asked one and they
looked at me like I was
crazy.

So, I guess my question is--
Why did she let me
hold her at night?
And why did she bother
To hold me back?
Is it just a special bond or
was it something more?

I guess I'm still hoping that
She mean't what she said when
she said she
Might feel the same
Way.

I used to believe
That gold can stay.
But now I see
That there is nothing to keep
As all that glitters
Winds up deceased
While I stare into the darkness,
It's 10:00 pm
And I just can't sleep.

You lay beside me
Your breathing rhymic
Though I can tell when you struggle
Like you're not getting enough
Oxygen.

I feel you move beside me
Trying to get comfortable.
Trying to sleep.
Hopefully you can quiet your mind,
Because I sure can't
Quiet mine.

I want you to stay.
Maybe not physically,
I know it's important for you to go away
Occasionally,
But I want you to stay mine,
Because I will always stay yours.

Please just tell me
You'll stay.

Nothing gold can stay.

Maybe that's true.
Maybe it isn't.
I guess we'll find out.

I've got a licence to be poetic
and I'm not afraid to use it
Can I stop you for a moment
cos I think you need to hear this

I can work with a little discord
I can dance with juxtaposition 
I'm even sometimes partial to
suggestion by omission 

I've got a licence to be poetic
and I'm not afraid to use it
I've got a mouthful of metaphor
and little time to chew it

I get giggly with similes 
and silly with alliteration 
I'm warning you now
I'm devoted to proper diction

I've got a licence to be poetic
and I'm not afraid to use it
So give me some extra space
cos I think I'm going to lose it

I'm in love with eloquence
and I fawn for fluency 
I can't get near enough
of off-beat rhymic lunacy 

I've got a licence to be poetic
and I'm not afraid to use it
But I use it for the good
and avoid the call for nasty

I'm tired of hearing hate
bred from agressive bitterness
I'm looking to collaborate
with writers with forgiveness 

I've got a licence to be poetic
and I'm not afraid to use it
So let's sit down to talk
cos I think you need to hear this

I embellish my mind with music
The expressive silence and the blend of rich voices
Rhythmic expressions and artistic use of words
                                                           ­          My mind is adorned with emotions
                     The tides of emotions crash over me and the whispers of intuition
                                                     Screams of fear and varying colors of mood
I decorate my mind with thoughts
The stream of ideas and whispers of consciousness
Small streams of reflection and flashes of insight
                                                         ­         My mind is furnished with memories
                                             The fragments of memories and echoes of the past
                  Brushstrokes of details in each memory and the maze of perception
I decorate my mind with poems
The quilt block of words and dance of language
Mosaic of themes and rhymic heartbeats