Fear of a poet

Nothing can unsettle,

can frighten the sons and daughters of the inked arts more

than being asked…..

-Are you concrete or abstract Son?

Do you throw bricks or just talk big?

Do you speak about your Elephant

or just poke ‘em with a stick?

Are you a hard-man

or a moist child?


As rage seizes the moment

The heart constricted and conflicting

Chest pulse unresisting

Voice box relenting

And cavities very assisting


Let me articulate

What our fists could enunciate

My response is a delegate –

I am abstract and concrete

Because I can;

Spit winds that fling bricks

Stroke mammoths and pin beasts.

I can change states,

I can be both,

I can be;


We can BI

We can be both.

So come by and see BI.

Walk by and hear BI.

Come in and be BI.




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I am me. I am Me. I write when I want to be free.

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