Showing Love

Matters Of The Movement

It is not essential that I hold my peace,

My words are hollow-tip projectiles; my tongue is an M16,

And when my words penetrate emotions leak –

Voices shriek, and minds awe,

Pain strikes nerve endings, eyes overfill with tears then leak –

Leaving stains from streaks down the faces then drips from the jaws.

I let my thoughts marinate in the mind, but I serve them up R.A.W.E.

I’m not cocky but I’m confident that I spit hot shit; funky and no flaws,

I bleed pain, rain love, and cast my fury through my pen,

Incarcerating my actions behind the bars on notebook paper; shit if I couldn’t write and spit, I don’t know what kind of misery I’d be living in,

The MIC is my adrenaline,

And I use it to get it in with every metaphor, simile, and synonym that relieves all stress,

But at the same time I’m serious about my craft, so I practice to perfect it to progress,

Then I hit the spot on Sundays so that my culture can be expressed,

And to pick the brains of the artists and poets that I look up to and consider being the best,

Like the END poet, who B.A.M.B.O.O. said was the cutest thing with a mole,

She spits blessings from heaven; food for your soul,

Then back to B.A.M.B.O.O. who gets so hype,

Spitting so fluidly and abusing the MIC,

Then admire Mariama because there’s not a time that she’s spit and I didn’t feel it,

And if I had to sum her up in one word as a poet, I’d say that she’s the realest,

Shout out to Merc B. Williams when he’s on the MIC sounding like Taye Diggs,

Understand this kid when he tell the ladies, “he needs…… it”,

This was the first guy that came to me and said, “Dude! You need to spit!”

And for the homie Matthew Simmons,

A lot of times we spit content of the same shit and I know what he’s feeling,

That’s why I’m with him when I hear yelling, “Fuck love!”

Cause’ love is the “okie-doke” and it’ll get you fucked up,

Next, this beautiful woman has the voice to place my soul at ease,

Because she has hymns from the heart; that’s Talibah Smith,

And I think the gates of heaven open up whenever she sings.

Last but not least, Cocky McFly, your swagger is dope,

Sometimes I laugh; seeing you tote that MIC,

But trust me – I know.

And I think I speak for all the artists and poets when I say, “We love our host”

And I appreciate all of you cats,

Because I put my pen and pad away a while back,

You’re like elevators to my heart when it’s joy that I lack

I just wanted to used my blessing to show love and give props,

You are the shit, and whether you know it or not,

We're matters of the movement, and I’m grinding for us until we ascend to the top.

Peace.

Lorenzo Wesley, Jr.

Named in the piece are some of my favorite artists and poets with the exception of several others.