I used to skip my P.E./
To close my eyes and fantasize about a CD/
Nod my head as I embed in beats that don’t exist/
Mist/ Is all I had at first/
But then I would turn the mist into a verse/
That I never rehearsed/
So, for the better or worse/
Without any letters endorsed/
I would sit on the sidewalk and be the lone poet/
I was completely for-it/
I would just sit and write/
About how couples fight all night/
And don’t open their eyes to their surprise/
And realize that the problem is their own selves/ It’s like they are sleeping/
I would watch the world weeping/
While keeping it’s every single tear in a cup/
And I’ll keep drinking it until my time is up/
I was thinking that my time was up/
When an officer came up and asked “Are you planning a crime?”/
I said “Is it wrong to rhyme?”/
He answered, “Yes.” “Then I’m just wasting my time.”/
As he walked away I noticed his age/
Then I turned my page/
And he had a peg leg/
A patience of a lit powder keg/
Because he served in Vietnam, but he never knew that/
I watched as my thoughts flew back/
Into my head, strifed/
I wondered if I could resurrect his dead wife/
I didn’t dare though/
Why would he need that scare for?/
My dear reader/
You are my earth so to give birth, I am your seeder/
What cane we find? I’ll let our minds be water/
Now come together and let’s let it loose/
To see what we can produce/
Don’t let a man be used/
By any simple thoughts/
That are forced down their throats/
Poking hole in their boats/
To sink, stop to think, my listener/
Because my mind is truly missing ya/
But that’s why, I, am the lone po-et/
Wit a millionth son-net, that you never red/
The glory that I never had/
And then it starts to rain/
But I am not in vain/
because as soon as I think, before you blink, I’m on the moon/
There, is no air and it’s kind of cold/
But it’s all fair, I have a story to be told/
Except, not right now, because I never wrote it/
So as I fly down, I’m trying to note it/
Truly, the greatest story you haven’t heard before/
That’s what my verbs are for/
So as I swim to the lone shore/
I am the lone poet, we are so alone/
That I am prone to claim this zone/
Of the shore that’s alone as my own/
So now were not alone, now it’s just us two/
The shore is so true/
That I wish I could take him with you/
Unfortunately, the shore is my stationary friend/
And as the lone poet, I can’t pretend, I have no stationary end/
I must return to my thing/
Like “Return of the King”/
And he becomes the lone shore again/
As I journey through the valleys/
I happen to see the grand finales/
That were never finished/
It’s good to see hopes that don’t diminish/
As I’m running on my feet/
I’m gunning down the street/
I’m doing close to the speed of light/
As I wonder, what is the speed of fright?/
And does the princess really need her knight?/
I know, I could have took a car/
But I felt like outrunning cars and stars/
While placing scars/
On my bare feet/
With the fair heat/
That comes with this much loneliness/
But then again, I’m not really lonely-less/
Unless, this is just a simple test/
For some reason, no season would me rest/
Even If I was the best, but anyway/
Any day, if you’re in need, holla-me/
I’ll be, drifting my way around the gala-xy/
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