Slam Poet

My Pen shoots thru you like...like sliced open cuts and guns shot wounds
While I stand here trying to tell ya to think, cause our death is coming way to soon
Open minds taking grasp of the lows and highs, the highs and lows,
The high rises of what he calls poetry,
Poetry
This poet reads what comes off the top of his head and enters his lined sheeted notebook,
His spine shook as his soul trancends from his foot up,
His blood rushed,
his voice hushed,
As he heard someone call him a poet...,
Cause you see I never thought I would have made it to that level,
That stature of excellence,
I Am NOW A SLAM POET,
A- SLAM- POET,
and-and I still remember back then
I still remember When
My open worded wounds bled the blood of unspoken lies and unheared cries while I lied in a sea of confusion, going delusional
As unseen faces appeared, brutal events reappeared.
As I try to decipher, decode my unkown's know
I try to figure out who I am but this ain't no ressurection,
My mind's obssesion for perfection was infecting my mind!
Every time I wrote, I felt as if I was running out of time,
I'm runnig out of time,
I'm Running out of time and...
I don't know what to put after that line,
But I still tried cause poetry gave me life, it gave me courage, it encouraged my nonsense lotta sense straight forward poems locked up deep down in my dome, it open my eyes, defiled my soul, as I rhymed I told the cold, untold story, on how poetry supposedly caught me,
It helped me to confront my fears thru INK FILLED TEARS

I got good news though....I just saved a bunch of words on my writing insurance by switching to slam poet.

I'm not the type of poet that only speaks his words at spoken words,
but for the hell of it cause I love the feel of it,
The unreal deal with it,
How poetry urges a worded surge thru my body and what emerges is quite mighty....

A-Slam-Poet
The type of poet thet comes and sets the stage in such a blaze and
I try my best to spit out my last lines while my lungs are still in pain and
I continually drain the sain making ya go insane and i'm tired complaining,
Complaining on how this world needs to change
But don't get your hopes up cause it seems that its just staying,

but yet...here I stand shooting rhymed lines from my mind as I cast my notebook line off shore cause i'm sure, i'll still be able to do what I do and hope for more.

So I'll give you more,
Pain, love and time are the three seeds that will help you to soar
Drug addicts sell crack, crack sells itself, money buys more crack, the Government keeps the wealth,
It's the so called
Circle Of Life, And it does us wrong, the circle of life, and it does us wrong
And this so called circle is made up of his life,her life, your life and it all dcides our life
We are all apart of the math it's either you change the product or let it past,
I'm never gonna let it go,
Cause I'm a slam poet and it's my job to let a know