If My Poetry Could Speak
Tainted blurs are the scars that lay dry upon my blank sheet of paper
Frozen pains that make up the facts for tomorrows history, and I too lay down
For the sun has laid eyes upon my flesh, and it has drawn the youth from my eyes
As wisdom comes with age and not from common sense
We all fall to see the road paved in marble, we fail to realize that we fall into dust
For man has sinned, and we the children of man must follow in our path to death
All that is written in scrolls shall come to see the light of your eye
Is the world ready for His coming
An artist paints to feed the vision of the visionaries, poets and men alike
A poet writes to touch the heart of men in this ending term, were we shall fall
If you could taste my ink, you'd be stoked to the bitter awful taste
For my tears of sorrow make the perfect mixture along with my lost dreams to write
If the night claims my life, this poem shall stand in memory of I eduardo jeremiah
The poet of light, for as long as people hear my speaking poetry, they shall be cautious
Tomorrow began with yesturday, today is just buried in between
Fear nothing, for what's to come is a promise, and will be fulfilled
Written before the hand of man could fit a pen, before ink was to be found
Hear me anguish! I perish and all you do is stand still!
Free my art, see my face fade into the lines and chapters of history
I, I will live in my poetry
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