Why??

I want the poem to be an experience - for both the listener and for myself.
Anne Waldman

Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.
Carl Sandburg

Such a beautiful narrative to convey
Uplifting words at the moment we just can’t say
When we are feeling down and out
A detour through life or traveling a different route
The great times we thought, some have forgot
A poem to tell you, when declaring love is a long shot
Thank you and how do you do
Verses I give you when you’re feeling down and blue
No chicken soup, but a Get Well poem for you
My romantic partner is Mr. Poetry as you can see
An appointee to the heart, the real master key
We say as we please
Words given in laughter to tease
Written narratives to caress as a soft gentle breeze
To thaw the heart during an emotional deep freeze

I take over when Miss. Poem has failed
Promises to enlighten you when your emotions have sailed

What do you mean, when Miss. Poem has failed
I am the seductive mistress of words to make you inhale and exhale
Rhymes in poetic details
Sunken emotions after reading me will be prevailed
For you Mr. Poetry, what’s your story

Well since you asked, I am the hidden words behind your daily glory
When your rhymes are no longer mandatory
My lines are allegory
It’s up to me
For you to see
The beauty in everything
From A to Z
As a poem I could do without you
Without Miss. Poem you do not have clue

As Mr. Poetry, I could stand in front of a microphone and read my pedigree
Bringing the crowds down to their knees
During open mic my words are winning
When the versus of Mr. Poetry are spinning
Yeah, but with Miss. Poem, chocolates, and wine is usually thrown in it
We are an item through and through
Your Poems and my Poetry I’m sure people feel our grove

Our emotions as we push our words
We’re like a handsome Blue Jay and a sexy Red Cardinal bird
Who could stop us
Someone who does not know the meaning of true love
Or just utter words to sink not ordained from above
No expressive reactions to discuss
Or capture the essence of the heart in an emotional rush

Miss. Poem, what are you doing tonight
SweetKittyCat is borrowing my lines for her readers as she writes
She’s giving them a piece of Miss. Poem and Mr. Poetry’s birthright
Then I’ll see you sexy come the next time around
Or, on a written narrative rebound
Hopefully, for Mr. Poetry
You’ll l find me downtown
My words read from a man to a gorgeous dame in a flimsy nightgown
In your dreams
Don’t get jealous, remember we’re a team
Where you can’t, Mr. Poetry will
Then a goodbye kiss handsome to seal this unified deal

If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.
Emily Dickinson

A poem can provide testimony. A poem can provide solace. It can provide a connection.
Kevin Young

 
I write for those who write and I write for those who read
I write for those who want and I write for those that need
I write for those who cut and I write for those that bleed
I write for free spirits and for those of creed
I write for those who triumph and for those who concede

I write for the night and for the day
I write to preserve and to slay
I write for fun and for play
I write when I’m lost to find my way

I write for love and I write for hate
I write for purpose, I write for fate
I write when no one else can relate
I write when there is no other way to escape

I write for you and I write for me
I write to blind, I write to see
I write if no one will agree
I write for what was and for what will be

Sum'n me up from the ocean floor ..?
  
DEATH CHANT Three Point Four  
Disturb my slumber, risk hearing me roar  
   
DEATH CHANT Three Point Four  
Run for your lives as I come a-  
shore  
   
Larger than life, I am  
A Godzilla while you're Japan  
What MOAR    
do you really think you're owed?  
   
I never was a fan of Repeat M'ode    
Say it once in rhyme  ( or not )  
then, BAM! What I've got  
is copy paste at the ready  
To reply in real time is a waste  
whenever you pass off Opinions  
as piss-poor substitute for Facts  
   
Life already hands me enough lemons    
   
In brutish acts, I squeeze that shit  
into lemonades, then pull the pins  
on yellow grenades as atomic  
as my infamous flame throw
you've come to love    
   
Rarely do I ever miss  
   
Towering above  
   
Hitting hard close to your home  
   
entertaining as I inform  
mass casualties with a massive  
city block wide, thunder-thighed  
freeform poem  
like  
^ THIS  
   
 

I watched the television at high noon
Laughed and made mean gestures as that uncouth, Orange buffoon boarded a helicopter and knew that soon WE the people would come together, brave the steel winter’s unforgiving weather, and welcome adults back into the room. YES! We would watch, teary eyed as the racist underbelly of this country, crawling back to hide beneath the rocks and stones, left a country to atone, for this stolen land. America, raise your crimson hands and know you’re not alone. When suddenly... who should step up to the podium, to speak the truth from their heart? An upstart. Lemme make it plain. Jermaine should be a household name.

I don’t know this “poet laureate”- and I reckon I won’t soon forget. America, you failed, my inauguration invite must’ve got lost in the mail cause I sitting at home watching this on the TV when our leaders should be in front of me, saying “Jermaine you nailed that shit.” “Jermaine where did you find the words.” “Jermaine, you been graced with a gift”- but now our country limps forward cause I can’t uplift the nation if they can’t hear what I was gonna say. Cancel the celebration. Who likes Tom Hanks anyway? Not to belabor the point, but allow me once more to explain. Jermaine should be a household name.

Y’all fucked up.