A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.

but aren't they all random?

Thursday, November 09, 2023

I spit cold fire Pt. 2 twice

OK, okay I caught it I can
dig it but it's not my style. I'm more

of a "keep the flow on, let the words
find the inner-aimed line metered by
flying to click in place, and any and all
rhymes that hit are BONUS but not necessary
/legit to the slip-snick-click-fit bling blam
WHAM."

type

Yeah, that's right, I type, but I don't
write I build a rhyme. When I fiddle, Nero
burns while Rome goes on roam to download
the new verse from the Pope's dropped curse
from the wrong chair as I swat FLIES
of some size, sidestep bunts
and run basis in reverse order,
checking all cases short of a score
I drive three guys in sideways (that's
the gender-neutral "guys," there
"guys") and it's 1st, 2nd, shortstop HEY
BOYS

WE WIN (1)! The rhythm has to be
caught in the voice A lot of times
The rhymes stay in place on the page, but
in the hand that holds the mic (air mic,
mine) the speed up slow down cadence plays
havoc with the haters
and players storm stages
trying to get their scrambling hands
underneath my rage in wack-ass anticipation

of a MIC DROP, 
but please. Say thank you first, 
'cause your welcome 
is a given when I throw a verse. 

Each time I drive home bonus points
like coffin nails:
FINE

"primordian time" "savage attire"

I can dig it but 
it's just my style not to 
these days. Trust me, 
on the mic I haven't 

got one.
Just all

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