The Untitled

In my mind I�m a writer, a heavy weight fighter,
an arsonist with paper and a refillable lighter.
Emotional flint lights my dynamite stick,
barely lit with a slow burning wick
the suspense eats me alive, it�s making me sick.
I grew up too quick, pulled off the vine and verbally kicked,
metaphorically advanced, my words are all hand picked.
If not I�d be bottled up and corked, on the shelf I�d sit.

Through these eyes I can see, just what you think of me,
a monster that could be
cold, most of my life untold,
a virtual world too complicated to unfold
a dulled down double-edged sword, worn out, and mentally old.
Nothing is spelled out.

You don�t know me, you can�t read me,
I start at the end
with no bookmarks or chapters, no pages to bend.
Nothing to lend.
A millionaire that�s worthless with no money to spend
Don�t ask for a dime, I have nothing to send.
It�s all priceless.

These words aren�t for you they're for me
just so I can see, if I could create something solid
from this transparency.
I�ll put it in a folder, that�s where it will stay, permanently
and for all eternity or until my last day.
Or I�ll write it down and save it for everyone to see,
maybe it could be, someone out there will one day read me.

Reviews

[Raef C. Boylan]

The fast-paced, continued rhyming of this lend it a vibe of being a spoken-word piece...one to perform. Perhaps not, because the narrator speaks of no one being aware of his work, whereas if he was reading this piece to an audience, the performance would contradict the fact. Then again, it could be that he's talking about his other writing, and the live performance would render this piece to being past tense.
Anyway, i'm chatting crap, because I've only perceived this as being spoken-word, doesn't mean that it is.

Good work with the imagery you've let fly in this one; a lot of the metaphors are extended, which shows more skill than the hip hop stereotype, which involves spewing forth plenty of rhyming whilst disregarding coherence and intelligence.

Overall, a skilful piece. Good work.

p.s.

"In my mind I'm a writer, a heavy weight fighter," - I suggest getting rid of the second 'a' to make the flow even smoother

"an arson with paper and a refillable lighter." - I think 'arson' is the act, 'arsonist' is the perpetrator

"I grew up to quick, pulled off the vine and verbally kicked" - 'too quick'
[NB: love the 'pulled off vine' image to convey premature maturity]

"virtual world to complicated to unfold" - too complicated

"These words aren't for you there for me " - there = they're

[Kriminal]

A fast paced rhyme with brilliant metaphors. It's bold and in-your-face. The multi-level meanings are intriguing also especially the last line: "maybe it could be, someone out there will one day read me". Read me like read your writing or read me as in understand you as a person.

[Blackbirdsong]

I really love your use of both internal and external rhyme...it really gave this poem a pulse. It actually feels like a spoken word piece and if you haven't you might want to look up about doing an evoca of your work sometime. Your poetic voice is quite strong in this and might be fun to actually be able to hear you read it. You speak of what many of us feel, are we writers or just deluding ourselves...our words speak for us when we are gone. Your here speak very well of you.

[Robert Luna]

Most interesting of reads. I feel I can relate to you very deeply here as I am who I am and there is no one like me nor will there ever been. The quick rapid firing of lines and rhymes is wonderful. I would love to hear this read aloud. To get the full impact of your words. You have a great message here and i am glad you shared this with us.


Great Job!!!!!

[Emily B]

Wow! My first taste of your poetry. Definitely in your face, this is me, I like who I am, kind of stuff. You will be. You already are.

This has lots of energy. Absolutely an out loud piece.

[L.G. Knight]

Definatly Hot and a wonderful addition to the "Drop it like it's Hot!" poetry contest, thanks for entering!

~Frances~