do what you want, do what you like, do what you feel

I want to write like black Hemingway
Articulate like Achebe
Visualize like Armah
But what’s a brother to do?
When a meal never replenishes
Stress building up, filling brain

I feel like the black Hemingway
With the way I hold my liquor
With contempt and disgust

Write another verse
And call me a legend
I feel my time is near
To claim that title
To pursue my purpose

My minds wandering again
Far too off
Off onto an adventure
Searching for my next point
the center where my story may unfold

Jam Swing

Jam Swing

Rain falling, funky sky
Ice melting, dripping zincs
Cars drifting, hazy swirls
I, stagnant in my room
Did what I do best
Moving to the smooth flow
The refreshing times was a flute to ears
A beat made for both worlds
To the stranger and the one whole
Both smiling amidst the down pour
Doing what they both did best
Free flowing with the diary from jazz