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Poem
Mama I want to be a star
I want to grace stages that host the world's revered faces
Fantasies shameless my pipe dreams contagious 
I want to be famous

Not one for fictional frivolity
I speak of what's in front of me
A new city called Poetry, 
I watched as the has-beens soaked their dreams in sewage streams
Unphased by rodent plagues 
These ones embrace their own rat race
I still try to navigate the avenues
Negotiate the ones and twos and find a way to tell the truth 
 

Young and unstable I stumble in the giant footprints of those who stood before me
Tip toe  on verbal terrain as desperately I pray the weight of immaturity won't bury me, 
Admittedly this spoken world is new to me 

-But- 

Is it possible in any way the gift of verse will carry me? 
 
I see me breaking grounds, earth shattering and in my dreams these words resound
I'll turn cacophony into somewhat of a sacred sound
I want to craft phrases that serenade, deliver sweet-somethings that emancipate
I want, in some way to bring meaning to confusion 
Dear world of poetry
Sometimes when they're floored I'm in awe of how my flow's flawless, I  hear applause no pauses, waving arms and stinging palms bear tribute to those timeless charms, classic tales still bent with intent to succumb to new pens

Pave way for insecurity
For fear of gift escaping me
See I fail to write when I'm  trying to
I get it right with no intention to
Am I...within my right to claim potential true?
Tear ink off her hinges, her blue ball point cringes
Left hand in debt
My blank page bereft

But in the back of my mind
I see standing ovations and soul drenched invasions..
I want to pierce every being I encounter, 
I want to penetrate faith, tear doubt asunder,
Let me to speak to the  valleys
negotiate peaks and make friends with epitome
I want to part oceans and in the grips of my  - pause   -   tempt emotions,

mold momentum to set in motion the wheels of adoption so that poetry.....may adapt herself for me  

I want to write poetry, I want to speak 
I want to reach within,
 pen something...
 A remote reflection of her 
This...this brand new city
I present this piece as fantasy
 when in all reality
I do hope she's  prepared for me
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