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Hip Hop Poem
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adventure, growing up, hip hop, repetition, word play
A ONE STEP AT A TIME ©
Life is but a hopscotch path
Players vying for placement
Rules to follow aground
Tokens used for good luck
Practice runs lead to safe landings
Over ever-changing terrains
Hop skip and jump!
Land on a crack
You break your Mudder’s back
Marbles fill a bag of loot
Once directed into home holes
Missed turns are your takings
Marbled cat eyes forever coveted!
Crayons come in packs
Pick a colour to your taste
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Black is for rain clouds
Gone is a sun yellow
A is for Apple-
B is for Bunny-
C is for caterwauling
Letters up for a draw
Lettered tongues speak
The bad, good and the ugly
Making mountains out of mole hills!
Name-calling never hurts
Pain hurts from thrown stones
Calling one to take a chance
Towards another hopscotch
With hop skips and jumps
One step, two steps, three steps more!
Copyright © Diane M Quinlan | Year Posted 2015
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Hip Hop Poem
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Hip hop is more than your understanding of culture
Its not your educated last in the middle of all crowded thighs
Hip hop starts in the heart of love to find its way to the centre of your ears
Fears mix wordy tears in group hugging moments
Refining spears
It’s a movement with no legs moving emotional heads
Walking dreams recurring all faulty streams
Browsing voices not chances
It’s a movement with no legs moving dreams
This motionless movement move souls from distant opinions
Rated the most hated social responsive act
Hip hop pops the middle of an issue with no tissue
Its not a battle but it battles to make sence of its battles
Raising fists on air waves paving wordy roads
Written in future tense
It does what it must with no musters degree
The heat of rhythms to all predicted stormy seasons
Unbelievable but few truly view why hip hop pops issues with no tissue
Very few flew
Over the clouds of good hip hop music deep kissing issues
Hip hop is more than your understanding of culture
Its not your educated last in the middle of all crowded thighs
Unbelievable but few truly view why hip hop pops issues with no tissue
But that’s my understanding from crocodiles that had standing ovations
Attacked by microphone visits
Microphone visits
Microphone visits
Microphone visits
(c) Raymond Ngomane
Copyright © Raymond Ngomane | Year Posted 2015
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Bust to the extreme
And collide with your foes
Be ruthless and heartless
When smash on them hoes
Leave no stone unturned
When your searching for a "snatch"
Always be ready
To smash that ass
Cause they sneaky as ****
Waiting patiently for you to slip
Or get down on your luck
Then you looked surprised
When your ass gets stuck
Like how could this happen
How could this be
They said they would have my back
Always
Always and tomorrow
Are two in the same
Cause when you wake up tomorrow
Its today
And always is cool
Till it comes time for change
And that's all I'm gonna say
You seek fortune
And you seek fame
Then your a prime target
For them bogus lames
And trifling dames
That try to get at you in the beginning
So they can snatch your change
When you do make a name
Its all the same
Every mother****ing day
But u *****es ain't slick
Cause you all look fake
Like a ***** with teary eyes
You know she got raped
And took against her will
Just cause some ***** ass punk
Needed a thrill
Well meet your maker
I got a deal
Cause sent down in my presence
And your soul will get drilled
Chilled and chopped up
And diced up into a meal
For the dogs to eat
Now am I keeping it real
Or just real ill
My fates already been sealed
You silly bastard
I'm on the chopping block
And all you hear is my laughter
Before and after
The rapture
*****!
Copyright © Justin Waddle | Year Posted 2013
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$hawty Got $wag
Shawty got swag,
Shawty mad dope.
Face all cheesin’,
She real turned up.
Goin’ to da club,
She steppin' wit her peeps,
Lookin’ so ratchet,
She’s straight up hoochie.
No racks in her pocket,
No stacks in her wallet,
But she all into bubbly
Slurpin’ and burpin’.
Lookin for a big baller,
Who’ll give her wat she wants,
Wildin’ on the dance floor,
Tweakin’ an’ freakin’,
Shawty actin' so cra cra!
She just like da rest a dem,
But Shawty real fly,
Sure likes a lotta ice,
Bling bling, and Benjamins.
Shawty creepin’ to hook up
Coz she needs a boo wit finesse,
Who’ll give her Yves St. Laurent,
5-star hotels, and 5-star restaurants.
Shawty off the chain,
Shawty off the hook,
She got game and she’s aight!
Shawty da bomb - fuh real!!!
Entered in contest “Ebonics – Let’s Do Some Slang" sponsored by Verlena S.
Walker (8-18-2014).
Some Terms and Definitions:
shawty – a young attractive female; dope – cool, nice, awesome; swag – style;
turn up – excited; mad – really a lot; peeps – friends, close pals; baller – a
thug that made it in the big time; racks/stacks– lots of money; aight – alright;
wildin’– to go crazy, acting out of control; cra cra – crazy; tweakin’/freakin’ –
dancing provocatively and moving around out of control; cheesin’ – smiling;
finesse – man who has swag and can spend a huge amount of money; ratchet
– ghetto diva; creepin’ – sneaking about; bubbly – champagne; bling bling –
expensive flashy jewelry; Benjamins – hundred dollar bills; boo – one’s lover;
da bomb – the best of the best; game – skills; ice – expensive flashy jewelry
usually diamonds or jewelry with diamonds; off the chain/off the hook –
excellent, fantastic, awesome; fly – cool, in style; hook up – getting together
with someone romantically; hoochie – a female who dresses trashy; straight up
– absolutely, really.
Copyright © Pandita Sanchez | Year Posted 2014
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You live to love,
When you love to give.
That life you never had
Like forever, had no wealth.
Still had a hand to help.
All I have is
dreams for myself
grand plans for world
and words to rhyme with strength.
The world will change,
it depends on range
of rage or love we raise.
Well thats a phase of world,
where we stay
some for months, some for days
or its a game we play
and score to glee.
All above,
We live to love
and we need to give.
Copyright © rahul bhatia | Year Posted 2016
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Hip Hop Poem
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Draped and locked like a curtain in Guantanamo
I use my words to peel scalps like Geronimo
Just like a teen girl my mouth has a heavy flow
If arousal luminesces then I'll make you glow
They're calling me a villain cuz I steal girls like Bowser
Wowzer, think I just filled my trousers
Though unlike the lizard I don't lose them to Italians
Cuz after one night girls confuse me for a stallion
Heart of obsidian inlaid with gold
A tongue of adamantium that stays so cold
My life is a story that's never been told
And I'm hoping that the credits roll before I get old
Copyright © Stefan Hillyman | Year Posted 2013
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I can give a chick an option
And she'll pick the other path
Just to divide herself
Like she out here doing math
Calculating all the ways things can go bad
She don't understand happiness
Cause she's used to being sad
I grab her by the hand
And slightly stroke her on the face
Tell her I want to be her man
But to this touch, she can't relate
She stuck in the past
But we've all made mistakes
She think all I want is ass
But I'll work hard for 1st base
Just to round 2nd
After days of going on dates
I want to slide home
But for her, I have to wait
I'm ol skool baby
I do things a different way
Been retired my jersey
I ain't got no time for games
I love a good challenge
So I play to win
I'm trying to be your future
So my time, I present
Your beauty is a present
Let me bask your presence
I want you to be my woman
So let me be your man
Copyright © Knowledge Hill | Year Posted 2014
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In my hand an empty pack of camel crushes... I smoked them all.
All the pacing from the stress has beat the pavement raw.
Anger from the moments of my son I never saw.
I'm so gone.
Because I've been holding it in for way too long.
And hashtag to my haters,I will spray you all away if you try to stop me from getting my hustle on.
And I'm not Kirsten Dunst but suckas bring it on.
I'm praying that the whole world pays attention to this song.
See snow the product did it first, but see this best it spoke to me.
And said "you could write a story on how rough your life could be.
And with every verse you spit, more haters get frikazied.
That's when motivation kicked in and I began to believe.
I'll show the population that my ryhmes are mega rad.
And show the child courts I can be a good dad.
And make for certain that I get to make my baby mama mad.
Because every brother out of Gary really ain't bad.
Determined dad.
Copyright © Julian Miles | Year Posted 2015
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Impulsive or compulsive
Either way it's not conducive
Living with this disorder
Can't be good for my liver
Obsessions, when do they stop?
Compulsions, when do I stop?
Let me illustrate and reiterate
My demons make me infuriated
To the point, man, I really want to escape this
Live everyday like your last?
These hours go by fast
Trying to obliterate every ounce of the past
Always with the imagery and self coping insanity
That broke me and continues to break me.
Another day, no not another day
I just got out, please let me stay away.
Copyright © Stefan Cote | Year Posted 2016
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Wrong
Was I
To push love
So un-returned
At first though the love from you came later
I lost mine, rapt in imagination
So time forgot
Our passion
Mislaid
Sin
Copyright © cecil hickman | Year Posted 2013
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I thought of one of my nephews before I wrote this, God bless him please
He's from a western land where the hustla's real,
And the thugs'll steal,
Brothers'll kill for the love o' bills,
Tryin' to get a mill[million],
Means much blood'll spill
So his forte's to scheme & die fo',
Gettin'that cream[money] & lie low,
Then hittin' up his rivals
An eye for an eye
and dealin' with street survival,
Makes him drift back to his childhood,
When it was much peace & all good,
But now he gets no sleep
He creeps deep in foul hoods,
Where bodies get chalked & the crowd stood,
In amazement,
Witnessin' homicide engravements on the pavements,
Too much of this misbehavement,
Has the communities decaying
and too many youngsters fall before their prime,
And the harsher the crime, steeper the prison time,
But he was born a product in a wicked jungle,
Bred to run amongst those who are far from humble,
And addicted to makin' they're funds grow,
And plus they're quick to stun those,
Who gets victimized by the hoods jurisdiction,
A whole slew of unsolved crimes
with very few convictions,
And justice is missin',
Because this lifestyle is opposite of fiction,
So he marches through ghetto life
with his hard hat & boots on,
Still focussed on gettin' his loot on,
While killers get their shoot on,
Many of them shoot wrong,
So innocent bystanders been dying for too long,
But he continues to move on,
As 1 of the Young, Wicked & Black
Copyright © louis brown | Year Posted 2015
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Gun shots rang out but no one hears.
A life comes to an end but no one fears.
A casual habit now a sin that in prisons the soul.
Another life settling for less than their predestined goal.
How can a child once filled with love grow into a person filled with so much hate?
Taking as one pleases because earning it means to wait.
By not having someone of worth to follow darkness fills the mind
Until greed, lust, and violence are the only things found to occupy their time.
Even when brick walls and locked doors to cells is all the eyes see
The mind still wanders back to life in the streets.
Where a gun and a cold heart is all that is left of your life
And the only things for which you are remembered is struggle and strife.
Copyright © Christina Hons | Year Posted 2015
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From 2010. Narrator is Robert Gibbs, snooty White House Press Secretary.
Lay, O Lord, a curse on press men, rude and churlish, sad, obsessed men
Who persist to query me on matters they know I must ignore.
As I parry, neatly jinking, Tapper stares at me, unblinking;
No doubt he is thinking, thinking Robert Gibbs is short one oar.
Of them all, him I abhor.
Yes, the fire is now an ember from a long-ago November
When every media staff member bowed and scraped outside my door.
Cocksure, I held my pressers (Helen! Old as earth, God bless her),
Brushing off reporters—lessers, lessers who were such a bore,
Including Jake the Tapper, whom the gods named my bête noire.
From the start, we’ve been at war.
There! He rises, smarmy, sassy; I feel dizzy, bloated, gassy,
Sickened, now stricken with the urge to swat this gadfly to the floor.
As I tamp down nauseation, purge my thoughts of his castration,
Jake the Tapper, this . . . crustacean floats a challenge like a spore,
And it roots inside my core.
Shaken now, I face him squarely, caustic tongue in check, just barely:
“Scribe,” I bark, “or scrivener, hotly your aspersion I deplore.
Blurted out while I was wrapping, in the middle of recapping,
So to get your mates to clapping, clapping, because you're plainly sore.
Best be careful, sir,” I warn him; “You are swimming far from shore.”
Says he louder: “Lie no more.”
The rabble rise, and all are cheering; I stand my ground, erect and sneering,
Mulling whether it is possible for order to restore.
Finally, the room grows still, then someone shouts out, sounding shrill,
“Robert Gibbs has stained his office and has much to answer for.”
Here the rest take up the refrain: “Gibbs has much to answer for.
He must pledge to lie no more.”
“Leave!,” I roar, my stomach churning. “Briefing’s done, we are adjourning.”
No one has moved when Jake starts . . . humming with a backup group of four.
And then they laugh to underscore they will dish me out what-for
From a slammin’ gangsta score:
Gibbsy doan wants ya fussin’ wid ‘im
Doan wants ya mussin’ wid ‘im
Wants ya to be a playa pushin’ single paya
So shut your faces ya know your places
Stay in the traces and ya’ll score some primo dope
And he’ll let ya stay inside the rope
Jake the Rapper, never droning, keeps intoning, keeps intoning
In the press room I abandoned, oh, a few months heretofore.
Ah, that shattering refrain, I shall hear it in my brain—
Evermore!
Copyright © Steve Grammatico | Year Posted 2016
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its a thirst thats hard to quench you did it well,
we all draw water from the well in the cellar, to go, inter-stellar
in our minds deep dive divine intertwined by the roots we start to slow time
but it seems refined the present danced in a line, we had a good rhyme,
but rhythm lagged behind, the younger days where spent chasing
what we had all aligned, n being set up poor thats a crime,
but no time to pull nine's n 16 dimes at a time, the designers be hatching
cause they mismatched n cracking but from that flows the static,
step up stop the havoc with Matic actionary tactics of maverick's
But the beginning was so tragic! SO! let go!
The pass is so acid, image be a trap as the picture caps
and the future retaps time travel relapse now what image is that?
imagination afterwards be tripping like an actor, walking on x factor
educated of y is it's so violent to be alive, and peaceful when we die.
we asked it nine times and 16 lines he rhymed,
the rhythm be forever silent this time.
Copyright © Rospel Funk | Year Posted 2016
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story to tell
they ring a bell
saying it all
there music makes the call
its at top of the lot
and hot
HIPHOP
POPS THE TOP
Copyright © kurtis scott aka curtis futch jr | Year Posted 2015
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Hip Hop Poem
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I've got a fist full of Buddha,
And a fist full of Rand,
A pocket full of Jesus,
And the other's filled with sand,
That's in case I need to make some glass,
As it will proceed my foot in relation to your class,
That's a diametric description of an uncommon process,
I use it to repel obnoxious thoughts and logic,
The political storm seems to be the hot topic,
But what I see is dinosaurs in power,
Who don't want to get off it,
The ball, you dropped it,
Gigs up, you lost it,
Wings done, let's sauce 'em,
Awareness has blossomed,
We done playing possum,
You're boss, we want him,
Bring him down to the bottom,
And let's make him aware of our consciousness.
Are you really missing this?
Yo this is Excentrix,
Rich's psyche been known to split in an instant,
I represent a hulk like samurai witch,
Equipped to solve problems via the switch,
Cuz the man inside there is just a little kid,
See I tell the truth even when I lie,
Puttin' juice in busted axioms like Pie in the Sky,
"Yo dude, you know that's an idiom?"
Suck it, you're an idiot,
Guards, get rid of him!
I'm a linguistic mystic,
Suffering from a transpiritual sickness,
Where I'll always be a kid,
And live through my own deliverance.
Witness as I stab my own body of Christ,
Feels so nice to bleed emotion into the night,
With Excentrix as my weapon of my own conception,
I can justify intervention into the seas of deception,
Cleverly apply art to the lesson,
Of respecting yourself and recognizing transgression,
I don't need a stinking studio session,
Just flex my pen and in the end I'm winning,
My mental digestion invents a feeling,
That feeling going to climb me to the top of nimbus,
Behind us is a portal to another dimension,
Forgot to mention I'm the medium for the transmission,
I must be the exception because I'm good at listening.
I flip furniture when pressured,
Then turn a lecture,
Into a story told next to a lectern,
No disrespect sir,
But I'm disturbed by your indiscretion,
So curb your enthusiasm,
Before I burn this whole place down with plasma,
I got the EMP flow I brought back from the Matrix,
Excentrix is MVP for knowing when to go back to the basics,
Take it from me,
The artistic process is worth taking a stab at,
Just to prove that we're all humans,
And American Celebrity is mostly a magic act.
Copyright © Rich Metzger | Year Posted 2016
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>>1111>>STRAIGHT TO THE POINT<<1111<<
Straight to the point,
No stopping this,
I'm your rival,
This life is about survival,
Or survival of the fittest?
The dopest most explosive lyrical genius writing this,
Beats are tight and vital,
About to take and claim my title,
I'm a nineties dirty ghetto kid,
Accessing detailed memories through subconscious files,
Skateboard connected to my feet grounded,
Pen and paper writing for miles,
Embracing life in a system of madness,
Always doin my best with a huge smile,
While fully grateful,
Within the game with no shame,
On a different level,
Nothing is ever the same,
Imagination left wild,
Positive tendencies learnt through experiments,
Some failed,
Listening to greenthumb, inhale,
Giving anything a go,
within a system i'm not labeled,
Minds collectively lacking cognition,
Brain function disabled,
Getting a message across in rhyme,
Mailed to your mind,
Will it consciously reach ya? teach ya?
My krew never far, we have a laugh,
And hit the footpath,
Skating to a spot with steez,
Stomping tricks but it’s not enough,
Gotta skate fast and master our craft on film,
A skate process of learning patience and pain,
Falling constantly, never giving up,
Fully mindful maneuvers landed consistently,
Converting new skate knowledge to life instantly,
Brain cells firing with high energy form electricity,
Synapse resurrected for the very first time,
Elevating effectively with positivity and productive activity,
In the eyes of society I’m on the same level as workers in a factory,
Trapped but found my way out,
On an alternative route,
I’ve knelt,
To the source creating all of our force,
A seeker without remorse cause that don’t matter,
There’s no deity creator,
Just innocent ignorant talking as a hater,
Instead be like ill mind of Hopsin seven,
Questioning sin, Dismiss,
Listen up, I gotta state this,
This strategic system using the majority of countries citizens,
What I’m consciously witnessing from a distance in the South pacific,
Is insanity at its core to be specific,
Writing from my imagination sober and sometimes stoned,
Striving for balance,
On my skateboard I feel the same,
Sending this out,
You know my name,
Just another street nobody with fame within my clan,
My man Fury this is for you Homie.
Copyright © Quincy Mac | Year Posted 2015
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Hip Hop Poem
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To be called ..
~ Grandma is a Honor ~
I have been blessed with 4 Grandchildren
~ one lays in Heaven " Kaleb " He is God's Angel ~
~ His twin brother he will always watch over , and be in his soul~
For he loved his Brother so much in the womb ,
he chose Heaven which gave life to his twin
~ I feel his spirit when I see the other Grandson ~
Time passed another gift to see
we are " Mickes" and Loved
Our Dad held the title in Baseball
~ that's how we roll ~
those children are Grandmas hero's
The Irish they love big and Family is everything
The brothers will protect the beautiful sister
~ as many lads will be calling ~
Every time my Grandson hits a home run
There will be a Angel watching proudly in the stand
It will be as if the Angel lifted him when he runs
~no one runs faster then my Grandson~
either baseball or Art ~ you shall find your gift given
These children have been blessed~
~ a beauty to hard to describe
If you think not ~~ Take a look at the Mom
That girl can stop Traffic
after raising three and still~
"Inspired by the gift and loss of Grandchildren "
May our precious " Kaleb " softly rest where Angels only Dwell
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
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Hip Hop Poem
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i want to be creative
but sometime i am negative
damn someone turn me positive
to make me feel am a good native
listen to me bb no one can be great
only if you now how to make the beat
beat the best and u never take a set
cuz everyone well the bad freaky beast
Copyright © anasse kamal | Year Posted 2014
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I bring hit after hit like a boxer
You haters' inconsistent
Everybody's on the same vibe
Mine's kinda' different
Verse hot, hook hot--
I'm gon' sellout soon as I drop
Verse hot, hook hot--
I'm gon' sellout soon as I drop
Minor in poetry, fine-arts major
Doctor goon on deck, call this a fear-factor
I'm going in, but I ain't got no curfew
I son a lot of you, it's like I birth you
Got a lot of verses, but this ain't a Bible
Fallout when you hear this, I ain't liable
Ain't talking 'bout tearing, but the beats R.I.P
Didn't sell a lot of tracks, but I got D.O.E
Put you up on game, my hustle's M.O.E
Music over everything, ain't moving 'D'
I got cash like the bank, I sell CD's
Smells funny, tickled my nose, I might sneeze
You would think I'm water, the way I flow
I'm just like some dynamite, bound to blow
Act like you're in a recliner, lay back
If I ain't on fire, then why they say that?
Feature, feature, can I get a feature
So far ahead I sit on competition--bleacher
My Raps' like a bunch of apartment buildings, complex
Got chicks on my jock', ain't talking 'bout sex
I'm so different, it's magnificent
Haters want me to fall, but that's not how the script went
Thing's fishy, I ain't gettin' caught in that net
Just killed the beat, without breaking a sweat
Copyright © Arcene Janvier | Year Posted 2013
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some ppl call me freak
damn i think theyr from the Greece
why do not u suck my dick
to know who is the freak
shit you want to be great
but u can not run for 10 feet
u know get back and take a set
and learn from all over the best
Copyright © anasse kamal | Year Posted 2014
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Hip Hop Poem
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sometime i work so hard
but a kind of ppl make it bad
thats make me feel so deep sad
you know i just laugh on dm laud
some of dm think they'r British
shit weak up ur just like a bitch
u can't handle it so u just scratch
ur self cuz u losz ur dream nd u can't catch
Copyright © anasse kamal | Year Posted 2014
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Hip Hop Poem
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Hook: Here's the truth. We gon shine. Yung MCs and that's no lie. Coming up. To our door. Yea we got them flows galore. (Repeat x4) Verse: Guess who just jumped on the phone. Riding to a new metronome. With his sickish flows. He's hysterical. So scientific, alchemical. And everyone knows I'm genuine. I'm stacking do like innuen. Time for you to tell all your friends that this yung mc is stepping in. The rap game poor. Needs a switch in economics. Cuz a lot of these suckas still talking bout the chronic. Youthful intelligence, call it Malcolm in the middle. You old brothers sit down. Try to learn to widdle. Cuz these yung MCs gonna leave you frikazied. We a whole new breed. Give the people what they need. We a brand new sound. From a dusty ghost town. Reborn from the ashes. It had burned to the ground. This yung brother yurns. For the world to hears his words. Because the rap nowadays is so absurd. But I assure you this. When I walk into the room. Put my mouth to the mic. And straight up kill it on a tune. I'll come with a style that'll match any vet. Rhymes way swift 5 blade like Gillette. The level I stand will never be met. Cuz you fly bird. Yet I fly jet. And honestly when we on the scene you hear the sickest similes. Slicing beats with symmetry that cause the haters ears to bleed. I take the light you try to keep. Cuz all your words are obsolete. It's night-night. Time to sleep. Close the crypt. Rest in peace.
Copyright © Julian Miles | Year Posted 2014
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A boat floating on this endless ocean of poetry/
Carrying the generation of free verse/
Lion smiles on their faces
A journey to their brains when this photographic poetry spit poisonous truth/
Roof of their brains shield under dreaded brains/
Who speaks for your lips
When they keep spitting in your face/
A nation sucking your tears dry
Nobody knows you cry
You die unconsciously
Your poetry expires
You speak for the mute
Puke unspoken poetry
Corner of your brain knows nobody knows you cry
Unconsciously the bridge of life you jump
You lie
You keep away from eyes that reflect shadows of your spirit in poetry/
Ride my boat and live it/
Copyright © Raymond Ngomane | Year Posted 2013
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At first school was cool
Had to abide by one simple rule
Read and write
And never fight
Recite the alphabet
How easy can it get?
One plus one is two
A E I O U
Two times two is four
D O O R spells door
Maths was about addition and subtraction
Multiplication and division
Studied animals and apes
And all them shapes
Circles and triangles
Squares and rectangles
Pentagons, hexagons
Septagons, octagons
Nonagons and decagons
Then I grew a little and things got tough
The stuff got a bit rough
School became boring
Talk of junior-high bullying
I got scared and
The maths got weird
Areas and volumes
Cones and pyramids
Cords and sectors
Quantities and vectors
Pi r squared?
Half times base times height?
No way I’m getting these right
Positives and negatives
Radius and diameter
Areas, perimeters
Voltmeters and ammeters
More and more shapes
Rhombus, star and trapezium
Physics and chemistry
Lithium and helium
Biology and history
Mussolini, Hitler and Stalin,
And the famous wall of Berlin
I thought I was done
But things got less fun
I started to debit and credit
Economics and statistics
Differentiation and intergration
Poisson and normal distribution
Assignments, projects and dissertations
Now I’ve got the diplomas and degrees
But guess what
I’m just a poet
Now, tell me
Did I waste my time?
Copyright © John Pen | Year Posted 2014
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