There's greatness and essence in everything that i keep on compressin'

and if I let my skill loose i can get very impressive,

our struggle is not something that i want to keep on addressin'

but if it brings tears to your eyes, here let me give you some leverage.

It's hard to explain
that i never been on a plane,
people think i'm insane
people think that i'm playing,

If it's ok i rather stay close to the earth,

after all it hosted my birth

clear skies and water, it's gonna get worse.

let's clean minds
becoming the bleach of a nation

Realize
overcoming some streets! It's amazing!

Get high!
under the streets in the basement,

The real talk
never gets played on the stations

Believe it or not it's not artificial
this heart is hard to get through
lines smoother than tissues
own nothing that's superficial

Do you know what it's like?
To have the person you love
Rip open your chest
Cut out your heart
With sergical like grace    
And tell you it's not red enough
Then throw it to the floor
But before their boot can bring the end
They pick it up say I'm sorry

The blood, bones and organs of beauty
are figure, poise, grace and glow,
just as memory, intelligence, reflex and intuition
compose the talent.
Anyone can have skill with inclination and diligence
and God has given us all the talent
to translate skill into action,
action for development or destruction.

4th. Nov. 2016

Why is that confusing?
Is my poet dying?
A lot of chaos, I'm surrounded
Never believed I will lose hope

I had tutors directing my path
I derailed, and now I'm lost
Searching for a shortcut
To get to the highest mount

The path I chose will show
The reality of hard work
The strain I should bear
Through the forest path

unbeknownst to this world
outsider looking in
absorbing, peculiarly
the arrogance surrounding me

oblivious to most
and easily ignored
for my skill is in books
and not in the well known

surrounded by immense talent
and the jealous meek
men that has learnt to walk
without having any feet

yet the stench of inequality
leaves a bitter taste
so easy to differentiate
the humble from the pack

more I pity the minions
wanting to be known
strip the fame and popularity
focus on them bare

will you still like the person
you've mounted in the air?

Sirens signal my coming
with chirps and wails,
Primary lights flashing
to alert them to my presence.

My purpose pumps from a well
that is endlessly deep --
so deep, in fact, that
many shallow people have drowned here.

I don't falter, I don't pause,
I act with precision and skill
to give my charge his best chance
at seeing tomorrow.

Gloriously efficient,
Confidence and purpose
radiate from me
as my insides quiver with fear.

Simply writing for fun?
Or developing skill?
Will I one day be done
Or is poetry will?

I can be it. I know it.
"You're not a real poet."