1000 verses

It didn't start like this.
So my fingers are the writers.
It didn't end like this.
So my heart's a fighter.
It didn't start without the pen, scribbling the ranting I had in my thoughts.
Anger management was loose on the page.
Writing down something premeditated, somewhere far to project the conversations louder to perfection.

The pen did all the talking with people I felt inspired.
With people I've seen performing.
With people I've socialised after performance.
All the rumours and gossip that spread like cancer.
People from Southend, Brighton, Birmingham, Liverpool, Reading, Bristol, Washington D.C.
RikTheMost, Jason Pilley, Simon Mole, Lorna Meehan, Gerry Potter, A.F.Harrold, Jack Dean, Nia Barge, Jah-Mir.
All came as a collective I can write this piece.

So as I birth these words, a thousand verses means a thousand poems for you.
Give'em a kiss, they'll grow up to be just like you.
A thousand copies means a thousand books to read.
One and over a number of verses I've written.
Valleys over a number of lyrical ballads I've read.
William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
But don't worry, you might not know who they are.

I've danced the miracle salsa to impress.
They say it's all confusing, it's all random, but fuck it it's originality, self expression.
I've done sets of my life story at the end of time.
The time has now come in the pages to mornings, afternoons and evenings.
Even though I haven't read a bedtime story to a child yet.
Read the signs pedestrians, Edinburgh festival I will meet with your mountains soon.
I've recited metaphors that are excited.
Dying with flames to get out of this bowl of cereal.
Eat your corn flakes.

So the energy comes with practice and patience.
I'm like Ice Cube pushing words like weight.
Cook up something that spells recipe, that calls your noodles on deck.
Jelloff Rice making the hot chili pepper to sweat.
I live in the essence of running hot rhymes together, that catch on fire in seconds.
All the times I had to improve myself from the underground up.
Now I'm overground reinvent myself like clockworks were ticking.
There's no time to waste no.

Witness a body of work that captures tattoos like butterflies.
Yes, my nature is open to all turn my whole body to art.
Collect myself together like a deck of cards.
Prove myself again and again to get out there on the spotlight.
You know that foot in the door to be accepted right?
Take no for an answer cos Ms Poetry hasn't finished with me yet.
Get on these required open mics so my voice is shared like drinks on a coaster.
Reserve the butter and jam for a toaster.
Enjoy.

I can write songs forever and ever as long as they are poetic.
Be beautiful as mugpies, ringing lonely visits to Wandsworth Common.
I sit on the bench.
I'll give them justice in one word, one rhyme or one sentence at a time.
Flowers like humming birds.
Daffodils like open strings of an angel's harp.
An open book of rhymes, riding Somerset motorways it passes by Bristol.
Exploring emotions like a growing kid in childhood, finding his voice.
But scared to be a star around unfamiliar faces watching.
They might judge me.
They might condemn me.
They might make me feel so stupid, I give up writing forever.

But how can I?
The choice is yours look out there, the world is yours.
Nas said it right there on Illmatic.
Poem is love Floetry.
But it's my love poetry a diary of unique love.
The timeless pen just chips of Yonkers, bricks from Jersey City.
I was on Tooting Broadway, look for some Putney poses to cremate.
My writings mate with lines from a journal named Lego Windsor and Eton Riverside.
These are a thousand verses sprayed like paint cans.
Stained like old saints ruled the world.

The master watches over us, as I watch my own mind create sentences fabricated to.
I've sowed the stitches to my signature as I invent Edward Unique Poetry.
Brain food is a thought for philosophy.
Surrealism to create egg and mayonnaise sandwich in one bite.
So which Halloween shall be the witchcraft of 31st October?
Which circumstance could I use to create earthquakes from underneath self conscious skirts?
Which pencil can I draw the obvious oblivion that is meant to fall down like an avalanche?
I tend to write longer and longer verses, a thousand verses means a thousand kisses.
A never ending tale to settle for less.

Finish the completed sentences.
I guess less means more, only shorter ones win on the long run.
So I am gonna renegade like Kate Tempest over the flames I regenerate the timeless microphone on a high speed jump.
Over the hurdles nearly tripping my words I stutter and stumble.
Back on my Timberlands, I stomp the roach like U-God.
Did the crushing sound of ilk make you croak?
Or make you cringe out of them socks, cos I'm not wearing any?

A thousand verses are naked, it strips from anchors down the abandoned ship.
I will sink with fountain pens as long as my words can breathe above water.
Rose my love will forever live in the future of survived petals afloat.