Maybe the next generation won’t understand my thoughts,
‘Cause I am telling his-story.
Bubbles of ideas emerging from my pot and yet I still hunger for more food for thought.
They call me artist, but the truth is I don’t know where to draw the line,
They say that I am dead and don’t see the possibilities, but I respond ‘I am the salt of the earth writing in season(ing)’.
I wonder if I let my pen bleed will it be plastered all over the news?
Writer kills his art;
I am looking at the bars- Snickers, Mars, Oh Henry, Milky Way, but still stuck in this galaxy.
I guess my time has come when my voice will no longer be heard; my words will no longer be said; my thoughts will no longer be shared
Express yourself my people,
Before your body is dead.
Let my people go. (Moses)
I totally love this piece. This writer exhibits great creativity in the choice of words and puns. It is indeed a one of a kind, intellectually stimulating, clean and funny. Great work Jordan. Looking forward to reading more of your poetry.
Wow….. U leave me parched and craving for more. Good job! I am patiently waiting.
that’s what’s up J……very talented, gifted young man
this is a beautiful piece ..great poem jordan
Very innovative, i love the play on words, great job.