deepundergroundpoetry.com
Script Addicted
In my center eye
I cry out, I'm lifted...
smokin' the weeds of wisdom
God bless the Poets
oh how you've kissed them
so blessed I am,
so yes I'mma ink spit 'em
In part, by the verse of my poetic brethren n' sistas
gotta say I'm inspired by the fires within ya
makin' the poet show it once more,
I'm just an addict when the words- verse- war
see it's habitual the residual residue I chew
like a fat slob sloppily slobberin' on verb stew
I grab it, attempt in' to hold it with both hands,
but please understand, this condition I never picked it...
I'm a vessel, futily fendin' off my fiendish urges,
but then I get them sudden surges to depict it,
n' I gotta face the facts, that I'm script addicted...
Many moons ago I was a no show in my own glow
alas, agile-me, so apprehensive to wallow in my flow
yet what I didn't know, is the ink verse like a curse
it will mystically take over though
n' as I fiddle in the middle of my mind-state,
n' regurgitate what I just ate to repopulate,
though it seems I never replicate my word gait...
Wait...the weight of what I meant
is what I've seen in the inks of late,
was so great, that it caused me
to pump two fists to thy chest plate...
n' I get the familiar fidget,
n' find myself twitchin'
itchin' for the pen again
n' I'm now gettin' manic,
heart's thumpin' like it's panick'd
damnit I lament in my mind, the 'bic's grabbed it...'
n' within the tickin' of seconds I'm typin' lines
spillin' loose with spruce verb juice like fine whine
anyone with eyes can see, but even if you're blind,
I ain't lyin', I'm truly a script addict...
So I bag it, becuz I gotta have it,
that rush, that revelry, n' I give
thanks to those that continually inspire me
Dear Poets of DUP you truly feed
that artistically avid addict in me!
I cry out, I'm lifted...
smokin' the weeds of wisdom
God bless the Poets
oh how you've kissed them
so blessed I am,
so yes I'mma ink spit 'em
In part, by the verse of my poetic brethren n' sistas
gotta say I'm inspired by the fires within ya
makin' the poet show it once more,
I'm just an addict when the words- verse- war
see it's habitual the residual residue I chew
like a fat slob sloppily slobberin' on verb stew
I grab it, attempt in' to hold it with both hands,
but please understand, this condition I never picked it...
I'm a vessel, futily fendin' off my fiendish urges,
but then I get them sudden surges to depict it,
n' I gotta face the facts, that I'm script addicted...
Many moons ago I was a no show in my own glow
alas, agile-me, so apprehensive to wallow in my flow
yet what I didn't know, is the ink verse like a curse
it will mystically take over though
n' as I fiddle in the middle of my mind-state,
n' regurgitate what I just ate to repopulate,
though it seems I never replicate my word gait...
Wait...the weight of what I meant
is what I've seen in the inks of late,
was so great, that it caused me
to pump two fists to thy chest plate...
n' I get the familiar fidget,
n' find myself twitchin'
itchin' for the pen again
n' I'm now gettin' manic,
heart's thumpin' like it's panick'd
damnit I lament in my mind, the 'bic's grabbed it...'
n' within the tickin' of seconds I'm typin' lines
spillin' loose with spruce verb juice like fine whine
anyone with eyes can see, but even if you're blind,
I ain't lyin', I'm truly a script addict...
So I bag it, becuz I gotta have it,
that rush, that revelry, n' I give
thanks to those that continually inspire me
Dear Poets of DUP you truly feed
that artistically avid addict in me!
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