Everything must belong somewhere

I can’t rhyme off the top of my head

but I let the words spill from my mind

like locks pouring off dreads.

I’ve been writing these poems for years

or maybe they’ve been writing me…

You see,

that’s how words play with me

and we’ve been playing since we were kids.

Forget Barbie dolls, easybake, nintendo, tonka.

My allies were mad, magic, willy wonka,

my heroes were mad, magic, Dumbledore,

twice through the wardrobe, magic doors.

Now I don’t read like I used to.

I spend all my time writing

and all my writing I spend insighting.

Not raising riots

but raising hopes, self help.

Searching for my third world health

so I can give it aid, commonwealth.

I still feel growing pains

lookin to move potential to kinetic gain.

Thinking hard up against a red brick wall

soaking in sun and silence.

The drip drop of last night’s rain

a sparse snare drum tick-tocking in my brain

my lyrics ever the same

thus my music is my shame.

And what is shame

but my refusal to admit myself

into the VIP room

even though I own the club.

But, I’ve been scared

dreaming phallic symbols and fear.

So I cut my hair

because I dreaded my identity.

I went bald to get the strain off

like stress was in my follicles.

Forced to live one step at a time, every day-ing.

My mother says just keep praying

but belief is a task that’s thankless.

I wanted recognition so I gave up, faithless.

I left life, but life was after me

and if you knew how life loved me

you’d be envious.

Because of love i live now,

I give it all

the skin, the content

even the core

then give some more

with burning passion.

But still, I play it cool, yes

I remain calm like The Roots.

I’m taking off

fitted wings on my boots

looking for golden pastures, silver fruits.

I play flutes

people follow

and sometimes they swallow

my seed, like bird feed

from this poet’s tree.

Only, they didn’t know it was me

call it androgyny,

because suddenly, everyone wants me.

Little dicks, big dicks

I’ve met many Richards in my time

and they ask me to give it up.

I could but I’m mising

since my spirit started rising.

I give verse my all plus ten percent, tithing

laughing at the bank, plus to and fro

as I’m depositing reams of lyrical.

I don’t go to church but I’m spiritual

that’s why the tellers spread my gospel

into every savings account.

Freedom doesn’t come at a discount

because it should be free,

there’s no interest rate on simply being

that’s something I couldn’t see.

It took a beating to make me, see

this poetry slammed me up against the wall

and took my lunch money,

bullied me into these rhymes.

So, I had to compete, verses versus verses.

It left me so broke

I had to count my blessings

since I was out of curses.

I don’t make money from verses

but refuse to work for purses.

Yes, because I’m lazy

and maybe cuz I’m blazing

but mostly cuz I’m writing

freak rhymes like Jekyll

even mister Hyde is hiding.

Taming words is kinda tricky

now I’m monster just like nicki

can’t let go the mic is sticky

flow so sick, it’s icky

viral, flu season.

Kids, go see the pediatrician

better yet, the mortician

since I’m killing competition.

Yeah, I talk big game

hit the ground running

meanwhile I’m punning

performing cuz I can’t not

recover fast if I fumble

and ultimately,

I’m humbled

to be

both the vessel and the content.

If poetry is the superhero

I’m the sidekick,

delivering punch lines and all the right hooks.

So, study me like a book

to learn how one ending

is just another start.


Now I’m elevated,

airborne, levitated.

Left my friends in awe

and all my enemies devastated.

I may be competing

but this is more than a contest.

Everything, it must belong somewhere

finally, I’m in context…