Power of Word

The first time I wrote a verse

On and on words I rehearsed.

My pencil, it speaks.

For others to listen.

Gives me strength to the weak,

Grant blind, the vision.

Used to think it wasn’t with worth

But had the priceless feeling of

a baby’s birth.

Though my head spins, like

the movement of Earth

I found out the powerful

magic of words.

I Write

I write to give the story of my life.

Like when I walked the streets at night

and why we live our life so trife

and why we dodge bullets living under street lights

and why they treat us like criminals

and lock us up every night

and why I gotta stay on all night flights

just so I can live life and get

my pockets right so I can

go on a rocket flight.

I Think About Life Mentally

I think about life mentally.

I think about life in the penitentiary.

I think of what life meant to me,

then I think of what God said to me.

I think of the world and life

and how we’re not living it right,

and how I lost family to stray

bullets every other night.

And I can’t stand to bare

the sign that said beware,

’cause most of these kids are scared–

so I might just move to Delaware.