It’s not supposed to be this rough?
Standing in a crowd of people feeling like Ms. Celee, wondering is God trying to tell me something.
Am I really Suge Avery and my Father don’t want nothing to do with me?
Why has society transformed into “Mister” doing its business on me while asking me to lay there and take it.
Been told I was a king but taught to “fake it until I make it”. So if you don’t make it has your life been real?
This is crazy, head full of dreams, heart full of hope and pockets lined with the results of what people know about me, nothing.
A dollar and dream, what happens when you don’t have either at the same time? You’re now assed out of even the legal hustle unable to come up.
This explains why brothers’ head back to the streets.
Yet that blood, that regal blood of mine, the "you have been saved by God and are here for a purpose blood line” holds me in place each time.
It keeps me striving, wanting more, of something I've never had.
It’s sick when you think about, almost absurd but in the end this is what dreaming is all about.
They say if the mind can perceive it then a man can achieve it.
This sucks since I have perceived along with millions of others just enough to be happy, not elated or ecstatic, just happy.
Yet the world won't give in.
See, when men back then created these thought provoking lines they weren't poets they wanted to say something slick and allow it shape the thoughts of the weaker minds.
When you tell a poet to perceive, dare to dream, or speak it in to existence, he does so, then when it doesn't line up here comes the venom.
There is something many don’t understand pain is resource to a wordsmith.
He will cleverly craft concoctions for the conciseness in a literal context simply to keep others at bay, while he transforms the world around him.
So today I may be down with you squatting over me, ready to defecate, but when the tables turn and you look to marvel at the negative state you have attempted to create, I was never there to begin with.
It was my words which lead you to believe I would accept the crappy position you were trying to place me in.
You see a poet’s power is his connection to the words. All life is made of words, Adam was given the power to name all which was around him so he was the first true Wordsmith.
Since that time many have lost the skills and in others it lays dormant.
Ahhhh you forgot the Evil one, the rejected one, the snake to many, the epitome of desire, the greatest twister of words, he is the one that picked up Adam's mic and from that day has spit lyrics like the Pied Piper and our souls have danced away like the children of legend.
The Most High breathed life into each poet asking them to take on the task of being Adam like.
So ordered to spit life into things which before were nameless.
Now you understand why I asked is it supposed to be this rough when so much Godly talent has been placed in Man’s hands.
Allow me to dream for when I am done I am going to speak into this world something new, and given enough time I’ll place a name to something which will change the world forever.
K. L. Belvin