A flow with no roadblock,
eternity with no ending,
the finale to a trumpet solo
A pen that never runs out of ink.
A brain that sleeps and wake up
to poetry think.
A sinsation from whispers, down
vocal cords vibrating to the arm
and sending impulses to the hand,
hand grasp pen,
pen begins to move in heart monitor flow,
paper smiles out of control
Not knowing where to begin
don't know how it's going to end
Visions of dictionaries, encyclopedieas, news
events, street life, and your story life,
cramping is hand when writes
headaches from over joy to share spoken word,
applause with finger snaps and whistles
then waking up from trans to empty stage from poetry dance
then pen drops.
Poetry is when you tape yourself and hear yourself do that onstage
with mic in one hand, pen tucked in pocket and notebook flipping
a page, and after that say "Dayum", that was me and I like that!


What does poetry means to me?
That I am poetry, poetry is me!

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My doors are open, all you have to do is walk through them!








Let us never negotiate out of fear. But let us never fear to negotiate.

John F Kennedy

poetry is ME!!!!!!!!!


love it...........love it..............


put a smile on my face....


thank you.

My lips your cheeks (the ones on your face)

Excellent.... :*

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"Who can find a virtuous wife? For her worth is far above rubies"

Proverbs 31; 10

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Dem neva Know,But dem Know Now !!

and u are brilliant at being poetry leroy!

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neva let her ways corrupt you,
let your spirit glide,
for when da trumpet sound,
dey who are lost will hide,
dey will cover in da cave,
den dey here a pound.

dis da beast coming for you,
wid da harlot you worshipped ridin on da back,
your city dey will suffer,
unless dey get on track,

let da lor guide jah,
let the real TRUTH be told,
that we are all gods within,
dat truth cant be bought wid gold.

so let the prostitute sell,
let da tax man collect,
for dey day will come,
but us He will protect.

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....Do You Remember Elijah, And is Chariot of Flames, Same Blood Dat Run Troo Ma Veins....