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Least Ink Provided

Updated on October 6, 2014

My struggling artist with the least ink provided but still paint the biggest pics...

Drawn in on white canvases with black bics...

Tune in...

Maybe it's easy to others...

But for me...

Before I faced some of the toughest obstacles that were put in place...

I always heard my father's voice...

Keep the faith”...

But my love and passion was well beneath my hate...

I'm sure I'm not the only one that had to overcome these odd situations...

Especially if we're going to date back to the day of slaves...

So please don't let that statement overturn graves...

I only have the truth to deliver like commandments engraved...

So am I a prophet...

I ask this question because the words I speak or in Hip-Hop terms “spit” many are relating, hating or learning...

So am I next to be assassinated...

Hmm...I doubt it's to that extent but the way I think is deep...

This is m story...

Not to worry...

My friend...

My foe...

This isn't a suicide letter...

More like poetry from my subconscious to let you know it's not yet my time to go...

But the message I have to share with you is more of a heart to heart flow...

When my fellow brother or sister is down and funds are moving slow...

For those that seen the struggle and hustle all their life to make something happen...

Whether it's poetry, R&B, acting or rapping...

My struggling artist with the least ink provided but still paint the biggest pics...

Drawn in on white canvases with black bics...

But those with the imagination and the gift see the colors thick...

Running these circumstances through our mind over and over as if we're rehearsing for a brief skit...

Blood drip like molasses from the pain and agony...

All this while our lighters stay lit...

Sweat like water falls as if we're at the Woodstock nodding our heads to Purple Haze...

While the mind frame is being dazed from the strings that are being played by Jimmy Hendricks...

Time to vent...

Breathe for a brief moment...

This is a limited atonement...

Looking for the most satisfaction with a particular redemption...

This is my moment...

My reconciliation with God...

My speech filled with bleach because one was told white is right and I'm just trying to compete to exceed all odds...

Modest I am now...

After going through so much...

Feeling as if my blood stream was a coke speed rush...

Tuff love is a must because right now I know no other way...

At this age there's no time for my hunger to be delayed...

So excuse me if my story may seem as if it is filled with rage...

But the truth is all I know so my heart boil over slow and hardened like Easter eggs...

My pride is to high for empathy...

So your two cent input I ask that you keep...

I refuse to be attentive and I'm not one to beg...

This is my story to tell hoping you'll lend an ear...

As if I was a corner bum with a veteran sign standing on home made wooden crutches with a peg leg wishing you will hear...

Again the truth I deliver...

So with the human imagination close your eyes and pay attention...

My cup is out and far from over turning...

This is a starving artist ambition...

Only to gravitate ears is my mission...

So audience...

Please, just a minute...

To give to all the struggling artist with the least ink provided but still paint the biggest pics...

Drawn in on white canvases with black bics...

All they want...

Is for you to take a moment...

And listen...

Because, this is our vision...


NoV'eD the Novelist


Copyright :: All Rights Reserved

Registered :: 2014-09-29 21:17:22


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      RhythMic Script 2 years ago

      Truly gifted. Pulling from a place many can relate to and yet still definitively a personal sentiment from the author.