Doubt The Rabbit
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- Joined
- Oct 11, 2010
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Here's something I wrote after attending an open mic with my mentor and her husband. Spoken Word poetry seems so different from anything I'd write.
Open Mic Night
Maybe I’m not doing it right.
Maybe I need to hyperventilate
To accentuate
My hate for the state
That the world is in.
Maybe I need a cluster of rhymes
Plucked straight from the vine
Of metaphor.
Maybe my fruit isn’t as ripe as yours.
Maybe my world view is a bit skewed
Because I’m too blinded by the view
of my own messed up world.
Maybe I should pause and say
Something steeped in insight
All smooth-like (like this).
Maybe I’m not doing it right.
Maybe I should sprinkle some wit
upon the tricks of love.
Allude to some hot, throbbing member…
…of the opposite sex.
And maybe I should rap about the school of hard knocks.
Be the brotha of a brotha from the rough ridin’ blocks
Of Suburban New Jersey.
Maybe I should raise my voice
Stand strong with trained and determined eyes
Be firm in my word though my shaky hands say otherwise.
Maybe I’m not doing it right.
Open Mic Night
Maybe I’m not doing it right.
Maybe I need to hyperventilate
To accentuate
My hate for the state
That the world is in.
Maybe I need a cluster of rhymes
Plucked straight from the vine
Of metaphor.
Maybe my fruit isn’t as ripe as yours.
Maybe my world view is a bit skewed
Because I’m too blinded by the view
of my own messed up world.
Maybe I should pause and say
Something steeped in insight
All smooth-like (like this).
Maybe I’m not doing it right.
Maybe I should sprinkle some wit
upon the tricks of love.
Allude to some hot, throbbing member…
…of the opposite sex.
And maybe I should rap about the school of hard knocks.
Be the brotha of a brotha from the rough ridin’ blocks
Of Suburban New Jersey.
Maybe I should raise my voice
Stand strong with trained and determined eyes
Be firm in my word though my shaky hands say otherwise.
Maybe I’m not doing it right.