Word Flow
word flow
when this pen touches paper my words flow, that when I rise up and scream, my mind shows, that I’m just like my ancestors that my voice lifts up to say that it aint no light gesture, my voice has a purpose, that when my thoughts brew they don’t fester, that when you say my words lesser, I must confess that these words flow.
when my mind concocts sentences, it’s like mental repentance, so when I rise to say, my words aren’t full of resentment, you listen and let my words be your apprentice. my life story unfolding on a page, to showcase my rage, the voice through the sage, to forgo all the hate, because I’m poets son and my lifes a rerun of the chosen one, that when I lift my chest to say that your mind goes frozen. these words flow, and this tone shows, that I’m not ever backing down, I won’t wear a frown, I won’t move a pound because I know who I am, I’m the brother of triumph and the cousin of justice.
when these hands begin to sway, you better hope and pray that I don’t throw shade, because this tongue is unfiltered, its the lifter of all things me, that when you can’t stand my voice your mind makes it impossible to see, my mental processes, my mind possesses the capacity to create projects of hope, obsesses over failure that when I don’t succeed, my mind sows seeds of doubt and tears and pout when, in fact, I’m a success story, I’m the epitome of a part-time truth seeker and a full-time Black man, so much that when I write these words your mind has to adapt, to the fact that, I’m picking up the scraps of our twisted reality. because when my mind races these words flow, so I can show, that this world blows, but when life hits me with its vicious strikes, and injures the world with famine and strife, I don’t fear because I’m the friend of peace, and the enemy of congressional thinking, that right can be 50/50.
when my body swoons, I can’t help but prune, so when I walk down the street with my same ole tune, you’ll look at me and think I’m baffoon. because when this life balloons, my right to move, I can’t help but choose to pop it, it may be a shock, but when my mind goes, these words flow, and come to create, a mind show, it shows that these words go over your head onto the floor, and pours like a drink of truth and a mix of love.
when these words flow, these hands go, so when my poems show they create elements of mind, you’ll find that when these words flow, they don’t lay low, they stand up and project, and have a resounding effect, on this world, because all that life hurls, I still let these words flow, like so.
copyright © micah hill 2024
