Black Poetry : sickness

Discussion in 'Black Poetry - Get Your Flow On!' started by tzevi1278, Feb 7, 2005.

  1. tzevi1278

    tzevi1278 Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    Sniffling
    Sneezing
    Coughing
    Aching
    Stuffy head
    Fever,
    a brotha got a sickness, and I ain’t got a cure for it either.
    Sniffling, sifting through concepts and shiftin’,
    taking in short breathes while liftin’
    loose leafs to wipe the grey matter pouring from my nostrils.
    I know the sneezing may seem a bit hostile,
    poor piece of paper, all battered and beaten,
    spectacular saturation with vernacular leakin’.
    Coughing with the mouth covered, now my hand’s been infected,
    penning profound prophecies like Nostradamus was resurrected,
    . . . attention directed to my medical records.
    Dr. Dre and EP MD,
    couldn’t diagnosis what the hell was happening to me.
    Aching with dictation running through my cerebral,
    a congested cortex of thoughts with wisdom unequal.
    I got a stuffy head, covered with some puffy dreads,
    recently twisted so they aren’t locked as of yet.
    Pain in my neck,
    from holding it up so erect,
    and I come correct with every image that I sketch.
    The fever’s like a hundred and four, or maybe more,
    I asked my lord what’s the suffering for?
    I was ignored.
    Then he showed me an unequivocal sign,
    and I was floored,
    he indirectly told me to wield my pen as a sword,
    to fight the hordes of evil disguised as humanoids,
    null and void of real human characteristics,
    who’s goal in life is to turn us all into misfits.
    Some say I’m sick with an advanced third iris,
    no longer able to type my lyrics, for fear of computer virus.
    I got Corel and Microsoft filing law suits,
    cause I create script offerings
    to complex for Office or Wordperfect to compute.
    No need to dispute, cause my illness is far from being acute,
    I got a chronic flow and it has nothing to do with smoking roots,
    trees, or any uncontrolled substance,
    I got a natural high, and it ain’t nothing you can do to budge it.
    So I think I’ll take some Tylenol Cold or maybe some Vicks,
    and keep inkin’ the poetry that’s making me sick.



    Copyright 2005
    © Ramarla D. Rozier
    Kiastar inc. Krate Creations publishing
     
  2. $$RICH$$

    $$RICH$$ Lyon King Admin. STAFF

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    word up !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
    this kind of illness can't be treated
    now i know why i'm sick
    this was the BOMBBBBBBBBBBBBB!!!!!
     
  3. watzinaname

    watzinaname Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    Wow, poet, this was awesome. The concept, the rhyme, the word play...if there is a cure for it, please just let it alone, and let the sickness fester. Flow on brotha.
     
  4. MzBlkAngel

    MzBlkAngel Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    creative write enjoyed the flow....Angel
     
  5. angelicsage

    angelicsage Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    You said it all in this last stanza....
    and yes...this was the "Chronic"

    your work speaks for itself...
    Sage
     
  6. PositiveMindset

    PositiveMindset Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    No need 4 medicine, cuz we don't need U 2 find a cure.

    Nice piece.
     
  7. Khasm13

    Khasm13 STAFF STAFF

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    i was thinking of showbiz and ag's joint b4 i read this...
    but this was off on a level of it's on...
    da flow was sicker den da black death...keep scribe'n son
    one love
    khasm
     
  8. caramelpython

    caramelpython Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    this drop was soo Phat I am going to print it out..roll it up and smoke it. That is how Dope it is! :welldone:
     
  9. deepy

    deepy going above and beyond PREMIUM MEMBER

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    keep inking it....I'll send some
    herbal teas to help...
    such a wonderful poet..really..
     
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