Sit Down

I would gladly have a civil sit down with politicians

however, they fear me and want my voice dead–that’s an odd position

my memory is locked within my subconscious thoughts

I already wrote a poem entitled that creating a brand new lot

infrastructure, buildings, and architecture are pleasing

without structure none of our memories would be worth ceasing

most hate me in the shadows because I bring real philosophy

watered down isn’t me; it has to be your lobotomy

unmatched like a book with no matches

I could hand you a book with zero matches giving you hot flashes

fire is what I write with the pen

ignition heavily heated–the cycle is ten

the real want to see me successful

could have had a traditional publishing deal, but I denied the addressable

a HarperCollins scout reached out to me

I looked at what was presented, they just wanted to show me a serving fee

would have made sure the money I made came right back to them

like a boomerang I’d come back and plow right through their sins

I’m not knocking anyone who wants to be traditionally published

we all have dreams; most of what I see is redundant

I make myself rise by my voice and words

King Of Nova Scotia, but I’ll leave you dusted on any curb

everything I write comes naturally, it’s just way too easy

that’s why so many hate cause they wish they could be me

concepts, creativity, message and substance

that isn’t practiced for anyone, it’s a covenant

all these devil worshippers are angry

they lose every time their around my presence, so they want to hang me

I’ve been asking for challengers, but nobody will step to the plate

I’ll grand slam, spank their asses, and then attend their wake

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