I never chose poetry in my mind. I chose rap. With rap only being a style of poetry, I understand in essence I did choose poetry. However, with the rap style of poetry being a gigantic difference apart from the many other styles of poetry, I have to say at no time did I think I was a poet. It is because of the art of rap that I later learned I can also be a poet in the traditional sense.
The most helpful description of myself to share is that I am who loves myself. I love to learn about myself and to be with myself and to see myself - as I am, in others, etc.
I value who I am and in some ways that can be conflicting with the world. It is life and my life that I am here for and its peace. I have grown to separate myself from the worlds treasure.
I am 41 in this flesh and body. I give praise to the Creator of Life. Currently, I am completing my debut book, a poetry book.
I really enjoy my poetry and/or my raps. Its therapeutic for me. I always planned on writing a book. I began to draft a couple of books and realized I just don't have enough time with my 9-5 and overnight labor worker life to really create a good non-fiction or fiction book to my standards. So with raps or poetry, I realized it is an art that I breathe, that is me and would be much easier to document, draft and compile in book form. So poetry it is.
A poem of mine:
An Invisible Enemy:
The definition is missing Even the objective is absent Those smiling are not even laughing Eyelids collapsing The fact is.... Nobody knows the words Nobody knows the codes, exposed to naked eyes unclothed I’m one of a few to learn One of the true ready to live my terms Enlightened for the long haul I’m off limits Protected by the weapons not calculated But observed and known though still no current image I’m the invisible enemy even if I claim it Settle down the swamp is draining And the monsters not alligators Nor is it bird sized wasps to sting you Nor is it anacondas to squeeze you You won’t believe me The veil pulled off, of the monsters claw, is Bigger than the stadiums the sheep filled I keep still against my anger Somewhat a whiplash I suppose could be had As I let the spirit pass through me And it looks like I lifted a finger Giving danger to you O ye of little faith It wasn’t me; it was my God that you oppose I’m just a vessel to stretch you.....evenly over the wool you used to wear Larger than the fear you used for years My spears will pierce Until, Your spirit decays and.... It looks like I got an invisible enemy