Poetic Juice – Spoken Word

Perizzites lay babies in my brain

Forcing poetic germs from these mythological veins

I write and put my random thoughts in mind carved frames

And I bask in my glory playing this poetic game

My passion has no mercy

It has no senseless shame

I’m sworn to secrecy

I have no poetic gain

And if I don’t write

I fear my brain will not regain

Tryna’ master the art of

Poetry.
Memory.
Listen.
Retain.

I am desperate to repeat what my mind has heard

I hide and take refuge from behind these poetic words