60116, #5 Posted by Improv, Wed Sep-06-06 08:35 AM
First Poem
This is the first poem This is the first poem written From the hand of a servant Writing for divine intervention Only to find out he himself Was such
This is the first poem written On a cold day A warm day A hot day on the porch Of a Bronx residence With a bottle of Ting resting on the ground And his lover nestled between his legs Reading the latest Essence Just to find how many references To spirituality she can find
This is the first poem written While listening to An unreleased album Placed on the Internet By the record company As they go on a tirade About losing money knowing They were the culprits
This is the first poem written A week after two associates Sat in a darken room Deciding that maybe God Was too slow to welcome them back home So they blew out their life candles Merging with the dancing smoke trails Sending their souls upwards
This is the first poem written With not a care about who reads, listen, or recite These words
This poem is about just being About happiness and sadness About redemption and forgiveness
This poem will not change how you feel Or If this was from a place of truth
This poem was not written to be Recognized or reverend
This poem will have only one Reference to 9-11 And that was it
This poem is the vanguard for All of the poems coming after this
Yes I placed pressure on this poem To achieve but I have faith in it
This poem is long and short at the same time Hence it is confused But once again I have faith it will work itself out
This poem was endorsed by the Most High And those who are mostly high
This poem is an oxymoron This poem is definitive This poem is hurtful yet comforting Once the pain fade
For those who stumble along their path Let this poem be your pillar of strength To those who couldn't bear the light of this world Let these words be your vessel so No one forgets you
For those who gave all they could yet felt They came up short in their goals Let this tome be your magnificent reward
This is the first poem written Out of desperation and remorse For this will become my saving grace My prayer, autobiography, love letter My hate mail My downfall and ruin My great achievement My first born and last child My legacy
This poem came from a place of Sincerity with a hint of ego
This poem is a reflection of the author and reader Whatever you get out of it Is what this poem is
This is the first poem And these are the last words This poem will ever manifest…
We are all dreamers...
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