poetssp
05-10-07, 05:22 PM
"My Addiction"
My Mama always told me to never get addicted to any narcotic//
Still, I didn't listen because, when I write I mix a little pain//
A little bit of urban reality to spit that verbal crack with logic//and
Supply those addicts with those potion lines//
My pen is a recovering alcoholic//
An addict for spilling his drink//
Across my journal of rhymes//
He's somewhat of a graffiti artist//
Who spray paints his stories across the tunnels//of
My mind, where my train of thought travels through//
To reach the bridge of my sanity//
Where the passengers can examine the skyline//
Surrounded by my oceans and brain waves//
The city with two twins that towered//but
Later they were hit by planes//
Their body engaged in the devils flame//
Now nothing remains//
I guess I have to rebuild from ground zero//
Atop the grave of the fallen heroes//
Where its aura designs its streets//like
A tattoo running down the belly of the beast//
Where our sports teams fight a civil war//
The Yankee platoon comes from the Bronx//
The metropolis come from the landscape called Queens//
I see the world through a different stare//
I hear the music in a different ear//
The drums and the snares//
So I want to take a second and apologize//
To my mama for not taking her advice//and
Going behind her back and learning how to verbalize//
I wish I can make her realize that all addictions aren't bad//
I'm not like dad addict to needles//
Nah, scratch that I am like dad//
My pen is my needle that injects//
My feelings throughout the veins of the page//
That resembles the color blue//like
Dads needle that kissed his veins//
That pumped blue//
Blood through out his heart//with
A little splash of heron//till
All forms of depression were gone//
I can say the something//
When I'm in my zone//and
The inmates in my prison dome//
Are rioting for release //but
Some of my thoughts are better kept locked away// rather
Than me unleash a demon for the world to see//
So I tell the world to hold on//until
I release my seamen within the womb of virgins//and< SPAN>
I have a daughter or son, that is designed//
With modifications, a better version//of
Poetssp, the new king to carry on the bloodline and name//and
Become a better artist then his dad was in his day//
and paint his own history within his own time frame//….poetssp
Thanks for having god bless and goodnight... Curtain drops!!!
My Mama always told me to never get addicted to any narcotic//
Still, I didn't listen because, when I write I mix a little pain//
A little bit of urban reality to spit that verbal crack with logic//and
Supply those addicts with those potion lines//
My pen is a recovering alcoholic//
An addict for spilling his drink//
Across my journal of rhymes//
He's somewhat of a graffiti artist//
Who spray paints his stories across the tunnels//of
My mind, where my train of thought travels through//
To reach the bridge of my sanity//
Where the passengers can examine the skyline//
Surrounded by my oceans and brain waves//
The city with two twins that towered//but
Later they were hit by planes//
Their body engaged in the devils flame//
Now nothing remains//
I guess I have to rebuild from ground zero//
Atop the grave of the fallen heroes//
Where its aura designs its streets//like
A tattoo running down the belly of the beast//
Where our sports teams fight a civil war//
The Yankee platoon comes from the Bronx//
The metropolis come from the landscape called Queens//
I see the world through a different stare//
I hear the music in a different ear//
The drums and the snares//
So I want to take a second and apologize//
To my mama for not taking her advice//and
Going behind her back and learning how to verbalize//
I wish I can make her realize that all addictions aren't bad//
I'm not like dad addict to needles//
Nah, scratch that I am like dad//
My pen is my needle that injects//
My feelings throughout the veins of the page//
That resembles the color blue//like
Dads needle that kissed his veins//
That pumped blue//
Blood through out his heart//with
A little splash of heron//till
All forms of depression were gone//
I can say the something//
When I'm in my zone//and
The inmates in my prison dome//
Are rioting for release //but
Some of my thoughts are better kept locked away// rather
Than me unleash a demon for the world to see//
So I tell the world to hold on//until
I release my seamen within the womb of virgins//and< SPAN>
I have a daughter or son, that is designed//
With modifications, a better version//of
Poetssp, the new king to carry on the bloodline and name//and
Become a better artist then his dad was in his day//
and paint his own history within his own time frame//….poetssp
Thanks for having god bless and goodnight... Curtain drops!!!