This is Not a Poem

This is not a poem. This is not poetry. To me this is life. Years of my life inked on paper and typed digitally!

This is not a poem, this is not a poem, see this? This is life

A life documented through words and paper from the words on paper
This is a person’s saviour with a purpose greater then a purse’s paper
This? This is a servant’s labour through a service caper being the serpent’s neighbour
See this is not a poem; this? This is a “moment in time” manifestation
Manifesto, manifesting a manifest of a man in frustration
A manifest of a man with breath in a candid test planed in depth
By persons unknown who planted death in a planet left marked by abandoned breaths
The planet left ‘cause they abandoned steps to Heaven leaving stranded guests
But the stranded guests had a pen in vests so they plan to invest
They plan to invest in a land that was never theirs to invest in
So this is the greed that spreads like interest or a viral infection
So I repeat this is not a poem, this is when I sit all alone
And I think I’m in a zone so I sink till I groan and in a fit throw my phone
This is it I’ll atone, I’ll atone, I’ll atone I will atone with the will of a stone
So this? This is the contents that fill a moan, the villains own villainous throne
Till he’s killed and dethroned, killed by his clone the one who swore he’d atone
With the will of a stone, one day, we’ll give a dog his bone and all come rolling home
But this is not a poem, see this? This is for all of those who’ll object so quietly
This is my list, my list of all that is wrong with modern society
Like haven’t you noticed the girls are half dressed, have breasts and show them freely
For beads? The boys have guns, have drugs, have bud & will go to jail still peewees
Little prostitutes and convicts bringing new meaning to the term “Pros and Cons”
This is for their innocence that was stole at dawn sold & gone their souls were pawned
But this is not a poem, see this? This is starting to get a little preachy
Don’t get me wrong, we all got our own demons and life is far from peachy
Life is full of brute traps so tighten your boot straps and don’t stop or move back
Get off that blue mat and do laps ‘cause the path to success is never a smooth path
Life is full of pressure and think of what it can do to us if it can bust through steel pipes
And although life can imitate art, art can never imitate real life
So this is not a poem, this is not a poem, see this? This is life

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