Poetic State Of Mind



The dream is to be where we want to be, where we ought to be,
That upper echelon of infinite self contentment,
Doing the thing we love the most,
Whether you’re a banker, doctor, teacher or a TV / radio show host..you dream to be at the pinnacle of the industry,

You do it for the love, that passion, your dream is reflective in your way of life, its a design and your fashion,
The number of times you’ve been on the edge,
Ready to let go like..”to hell with this, I can’t save it…no hope for this solo..so yolo”,

Yolo? If Nkrumah had the same vision would  6-3-57 come into fruition?
Would Martin dream that chocolate and vanilla could live in unison like an Oreo tag team,
I mean…can’t you see?

They jeer then cheer then jeer when your backs against the rope, shoot they don’t care,
Bipolar not only in sight but in thought,
While you seek to grab onto that ledge, they seek clip your fingers off,

But you’re more than this,
More than just an exhibit, you’re a timeless piece,
You’re the little girl who aspires to be you,
That little boy who practice’s your craft for hours after school,
so you tell me, if you don’t believe in you, who are they to look up to?

The dream is a book, the chapters are listed in the index but remember to go according to the verses first,
You’re in a battle to stay relevant so you pit time versus the verses but ask yourself is selling your soul really worth it?

Thinking about the number of times you choked, wrongly slit open a patients throat, blindly missed an open goal, made a scape goat because you were human but wait..that didn’t kill you though?

Or maybe it did, maybe it killed the fire inside you,
Quenched your desires and now you sit abjectly reclining onto your seat like a pensioner reliving the days when his hands played with dirt constantly to feed members of the family tree,

It doesn’t have to be this way,
The car broke down but the bus, train and plane still lie in wait,
You’re a heavyweight, punch above your average,
The defense may have tucked in, but a shot may ricochet off a body and find its way,

The impossible dream,
That one, that very same one they told you was a just a figment of your imagination,
Was a lost cause, a molecule of fantasy that needed a supernatural magnification for it to manifest,
That’s why you’re here, that’s why you continue to push yourself but in all this, patience grasshopper..

Let your hands dig in deep in the dirt and your heart’s endeavour speak for itself…


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