Poetry / Life in Poetry

Wake up
life isn’t a dream
it’s a kill
or be killed world
in this war ran
circular pan or pot
whatever you jot
some call earth

& since birth
I was blessed
with a heart
that cared less
about what was
on the mind
of my
logical peers
it did
as it chose
wrote letters
in rows
on walls
big & small
in bathroom stalls
on trash cans
at the mall
till I
found myself

With a busted pencil
writing lyrics
in juvenile hall
that’s how
I started it all
with boredom
& hatred
bottled
& agitated
left alone
without visits
letters, words
& rhymes
consumed
my time

I knew right
I did wrong
it’s called
a mistake
or living
I was
misjudged
under loved
pushed
& shoved
I brushed it off
marijuana puffs

made me happy
taught me
self control
appropriate
ways to express
my art
pressed me to
achieve & succeed
without pressure
a prescription
for a weed
cured the pain
of the disease
depression
forced into
regression