To the Beat of Her Drum
Written by Bruklor and King
Clicking refresh on the contemporary unavailable,
the cursors trail lags, becoming more unbearable.
I stare endlessly at your trees, until a leaf trails down,
freeing the speech of the new king adorning a crown.
Constantly flustered by the lack-luster Uncle Fester,
agony sings inside, waiting for adrenaline of alka seltzer.
I read her story for an inspiration boost.
Lord's given me the gift to lift the barriers within,
the blockade's just a charade for a merrier mission.
Like an apple being picked, pealing the skin as I sit,
next to a woman who vents about burden and shit.
A reincarnation of Allen Poe, I let the talent flow,
and so the flowers bloom; as they laugh and grow.
I get an idea after idea and content after content,
blew away the fog and now God blesses me with logic.
She blew away my fog, and now I can see!
Then your alkali endorphins spark me into Malachi,
like live dolphins swim to the backs of my eyes.
I become set in stone from the grace of your voice,
the whispers turn to kisses that race to your joys.
Until I'm completely stamped with affection,
and I write another letter, in your suspension.
Whenever things took a turn towards the worse,
your words always managed to avoid the curbs.
Joy riding, instead of centering inside the curse,
my majesty can be found inside of tragedy.
You're the imagination that deafens me!
It was like a miracle, when she spoke through God.
I've written about pirate ships and sung about violent kids,
published so many stories that my glory's just a silent hymn.
If I read a poem, my readers get quiet, and then they applaud,
but everything changed when my brain would fade and rot.
It's just like an on/off switch, showing people's true intent,
they love your ability, but you’re not anything to them.
You say my imagination deafens you, well, isn't that the truth?
Because without my word use, you'd just listen to what's cool.
Unplug your ears son,
and breathe in the poetry.
Welcome the ideas.