May 28, 2018
One night God came to me in a dream with a scheme that seemed to be out of this world
He appeared to me, opened his robe and showed me a hypodermic needle in the shape of a pen...
My first reaction was to step back fast but then he grabbed me and said,
"slow down my child, I have a job for you to do"
With a burst of light he grabbed my arm and said,
"I mean you no harm"
He pushed the pen in, filled my arteries and he chartered me to write
Some new shit, some true shit, something just for you shit, and when I was done with part one he said,
"Write some part two shit."
He injected me with Billy's Blues and a muse of Langston Hughes,
"You've acquired some tools in the schools you've been attending, now it's time to stop pretending"
He started sending into my bloodstream the poetic feats of John Keats...
the published greats of W.B. Yates...
and just when I thought he was through, He started slipping me hits of Maya Angelou
He asked, "Do you know what I've handed you?" My response was, "Not at all sir."
He said, " Come on young child, let me show you."
He continued to fill my veins, giving me a fix of Emily Dickinson,
and my bloodstream seemed to scream as God gave me the liquidated literary genes of W.E.B Dubois.
I got lost in between doses of Robert Frost.
My mind got blurry in a hurry and I was no longer seeing 'em, but I could feel Emerson, Tennison, and Stevenson...
God said, "You can't get that far without Paul Lawrence Dunbar and you can't start spittin' til I've given you
God kept filling me, honestly...it felt like he was killing me...
I snatched my arm back tight and he snatched it back open and screamed,
"You are not ready to write!"
He said "Tonight has just begun, everything's alright my son"
"You see, I need you. I use poetry to teach people, this world I created has been overrun by ignorant
thinking, and I need poets to take the world back and break the curse...Now unbend your arm so
I can give you William Wordsworth!"
Again the pen was shoved into my veins and God Grabbed the reins as if I was a mule...
He said "I use you as my tool to plow the field...to fulfill empty mind's needs,
while planting knowledge seeds...No longer will there be a flourishing time for malnourished minds,
I need you to make intelligence a law because ignorance is a crime"
"Now I need you to go reap what you sew while captivating minds like Edgar Allen Poe"
"I gave you the wings to fly like the raven, the world needs saving."
"Feel free to fight off your fears within this injection of my tears which
contains the remains of great things gone and new things to come beyond the next dawn...
You see, you are the next in a bloodline of greats....you are a poet...
You command the attention of large groups, you ready troops for a revolution...
You write words that commend or condemn, turn boys into men, make other poets push pens and
you must be about something more than slam scores based on 10."
"Because you my son, are a poet. Think about the great things that poets have accomplished and
when the writing gets rough, hold on to your pen, don't drop it"
"Always take the time in your mind to reflect back on the fact that you're the next step forward
in this poetic bloodline"
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