Spit-Ritual (Part Deuce)

Here I go again delivering
spoken words hoping that
I've poke a nerve don't  
want to sound absurd
I just want to leave the  
impression that Conscious
has occurred
 
Do not expect me to drive  
straight because I am known for
curving and turning too close to
scraping curbs I do sudden swerves  
I change my direction abruptly
Like a flock of flying birds
Pooping turds  
 
I speak nouns and verbs
Exhaling deep breaths like
I'm smoking on herbs
I pour words by the gallon
no riches to give I am  
Poe like Edgar Allan
 
I begin rapping before  
the beat starts tapping
Moving forward I was born a
poet and didn't even know it
I can restructure derivations  
and transform this poem into  
a conversation
 
Falling
Breaking
Rising
Healing
I spit words so much
I can stack them from the
floor to the ceiling
 
This is the final feast
I'mma make sure I eat
chew
Chump
Munch
Swallow
devour
You girl's a beast
Call it foodcabulary
 
There's more than three
hundred thousand different words used in a week
Be careful of the bad moods  
because bad words speak,
whatever you say
 
Some call it puns
Some call it wordplay
Some get carried away
I call it spit wherever
my words lay…..