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Vice Versa
by OnepoetGem *the Poetic Rapper
Monday, January 07, 2008
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Taking the good with the bad, the happy with the sad. |
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The opposite of heaven is hell, this poet knows this very well. The opposite of good is bad, writing verse can make the poet either happy or sad. Poetry is a form of communication, but sometimes the poet can end up a part of his own crucifixion.
Over the years I've been crucified, many times had to act undignified. I love writing verse, but this love at times ends up being a curse, or depending it could end up worse. Poetry may come from the heart, but watchout when you first start.
Then be on guard after you begin writing, because some peers really like fighting. They'll take your verse personal in form, treat you like you mean them harm. When all you're trying to do is be a poet, but don't be too agressive and show it. Dot all your eyes and get those to o's together, or you're in for stormy weather. Learn to write better, throw away the feather. Now a days it isn't ironic, everythings electronic.
I reckon, verse has saved my bacon, then fried it in a pan, almost torched and burned my hand. My book of poetry was refused, a few years of hard work came out abused. On with the assault, surely it was probably my fault.
I'm a poetic getting published wisher, out in shark infested water fisher, so I guess I can't blame my publisher. I blame this curse, loving to write this verse. Getting published or not, I keep my pen steaming hot.
Hey did I make any mistakes, so what's with the heart breaks? My heart is broken, and now I'm choking, but I'm going to keep right on stroking.
Splish splash I've been taking a beating, my own negativity is kind of defeating. Along about every day and night, but I'm going to try and keep everything alright. Splish splash, I need more cash, this poetry isn't paying quite enough stash.
Still I go ahead and barter, dive right on into the water. Head in first, to quench my thirst. Can't get rid of this dry mouth inside, so maybe I must confide, trust in my poetic ride. Forget the slip and slide.
Ain't no maybe, I love this verse baby!
Splish splash!
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