short poem about spitting the rhymes via mics....for all those artists abroad!

Microphone
© 2003
At the microphone,
I drop crawl
with a sack of my soul
in my hand
my heavy hand grabs the mic like
it’s a lifeline and it is for me.

I powerfully bleed poems till you feel my pain.
I scream poetic melodies
like rain babies and let them drop
at your feet.

Against paper
my pens flow smoothly, angrily, creatively.
I exude all demons
from within my soul just for thee.

And I explode when I let loose
on the microphone until my voice is all gone.

See I got to write.
See I got to sing.
I got to release the melodic messages
that is given to me.

Crawling on my tired knees
I will forever
give you the best of me
From blank paper to this pen.

I give voice to all that is
within my soul
joyfully, painfully, nakedly as I expose all
on the microphone!
(c) 2003 Mocha Sistah