So November is 30/30 month, a challenge to poets everywhere to write thirty poems, one per day, for the duration of November. While I'm also taking on No Shave November, I figured I'd try out 30/30 as well, if only to see what kind of free write material I can come up with when I'm more used to sitting down and hammering out 3-minute slam pieces.
So, consider this a test. Of my skills as a writer, my perseverance as a person, my faithfulness as a blogger, and my thoughts as a being.
I seek solace
in the boom-box beats that beat out bass for days
Said hip-hop was not me
That I could never be
Hip-hop is regulated to those who know what they speak in their prose
Called me a young poet on the rise
Poems in a big way
When he hit the big pay, in the way he captured minds and hearts but
Poetry is not hip-hop
Or so they say.
But all I see when I survey these
Blank book pages before me
Is a canvas for me to paint sheets
Of words so elite
That even the mighty will hear
And their wills become weak
I'm not a big shiny rapper rapping
Bling bling in my teeth calling money shots
From bars and abandoned parking lots
A sold-out played-out playboy
Who fiddles with Autotune like his latest musical toy
A young poet slowly growing to own it and know that
His gift is more than just a God-given talent
And life will be forever more just a foe that you do battle with
Over haters and hatred
Is just inches away
From the face of the One
Who stated it.