Jimmi Canada Poet Verse

I Am Not Jesus

What was up with all that mix with the keys?

The weed?

The transfer of seed?

Undone,
not unlike me,

I come into a tree-
and randomly free myself of my street,

I come up on a beat, 
and leak out my literal leaf,
and ache at the pillory awaiting the generation of me.


I don’t want nothin’ bad to happen,
but what does one trigger hand have in battle?

I would rather the peace be kept,
and my life be given instead,

I would rather a dead man be kept,
than his resurrection come once again-

I would hate heaven to see me,
when I curse at people who don’t see me,

I would adapt to another's kin,

if he didn’t feel the need to always resurrect them…

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