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That ego trippin, thinkin that you're bigger than life, like night skies only    
get by,      
are illuminated by words that you write.      
     
The deserts formed by your drifting thoughts      
     
Tsunami insights.      
     
A peasant in flashy clothes,      
painting pictures, stitched with      
the pleasures of smashing hoes,      
the green cash, and sacred treasure stashed below,      
a castle called a home      
a storm cloud where you roam,      
the prints you leave in snow,      
the pain your heart let's flow,      
creates a vision, this I can't deny,      
     
Better than that, I see a passion in your eyes,      
and the fact you wanna flash is no surprise      
but step back and pluck the lies      
from that truth bucket fore you drink too long      
or gulp demise, lose your way or      
catch a prize you may have never gone      
after in the first place,      
just to say you forgot how thirst taste.      
Just to lay dazed as though each your birthday,      
to wake and blaze to see how form      
in skirt grays, before a lover trippin      
cuz he's livin better than his old ways.      
     
This was not the goal,      
stay cold as the north pole.      
Get diamonds from some coal,      
not a jewellery store or red pockets      
of a second hand robe,      
Not to gain it all before red and blue      
strobes, not to write your words on water  
for exotic fish in murky bowl,      
 
It's to penetrate the globe,      
 
make em feel, it's to make em think      
on their own two feet.      
it's to feed em gas, hand em match      
and say speak, it's      
for your own soul, it is for the meek      
shake it off before things get bleak,      
this your poem, raise that peak