I existed long since before alpha and will be here long after omega;

A material being in a spiritual world.  A spiritual being in a material world.  Caught up in two worlds with the best of both, a blessing and/or a curse?  The blessing is the curse;

Most who write poetry are inspired by those thoughts, feelings , and moods that send them through a river flood of emotions that are transcribed into words on paper for all who listen and read to feel the intensity of the writer.  The writer who is picking the river clean of the fish who represents those different emotions but what about the dirt, the grass, and the garbage that humans dump in the river everyday and is never cleaned;

I was inspired to write an anthology of love poems once, long ago but not since.  No inspiration;

Ain't no love in my city where I'm singing the old stockade blues.  Now I'm just plastered on the wall;

We all ahve dreams and are willing to pay the price to make them come true.  What about those who paid the price for others dreams to come true to only have their dreams become a nightmare;

I come up out of an era where we didn't understand whether the money was yours or not.  We took what we wanted that's the ambition of a hustla, because it is all about the money and I'm just an atm machine, so put your card in;

Connected since birth, toting the world on my shoulders like atlas.  So i reach my hand down in my pants and pull it out my waiste.  A single thug fireing off rounds from a pistol grip pump.  Bust It!;

Smiling behind my back, frowning in my face.  Oh!  You don't like what I said?  So what!;

We all got a story to tell as we scrape through the many layers of plaster on my walls;

Each is unique and special.  Relative to its own time period with its own set of facts and circumstances;

The value to the story itself, how it is told, who is telling it, determines its worth to be sold.

               

                                            THE END