stuttering sam

* if only I could stutter like sam and turn these rhymes into remixes, i’d beatbox off these beatniks hip lookin shades, fading in and out of hop, brewing and fermenting my own formula, straining the pulp, fiction for a reason to focus on the non, discrimitory against divisions, decisions awaiting revision, music television, mtv, qvc, home shopping without credit or credibility, credentials crumbling beneath commercials, vehicle for change, on that dollar, bills to be paid, attention granted in vain, Gloria estefan’s fame, i'm gonna live forever, like a diamond, awaiting an “i do”, drops on the grass, smoked like a dragon, puff - puff – give, my brother, from another mother, like weaved extensions of our past and our future.

if only i could stutter like sam and turn these rhymes into remixes, i’d blink two extra times to clear my vision like tourettes, rocking out to a new scene, to be seen, foreseeing a day when it didn’t matter, the chit or the ch-ch-chatter, on the ladder, just to climb, clinging to each rung, strung from the locks of a fairytale, once upon a time, this moment, to survive, i had to bribe my ego to let go of all that kept us apart, the distance between the heart and the soul, the goal to stand on top of a mountain and scream, “i made it!”, not cuz i created it, but cuz conquering it…created me, so i could stutter like sam and turn these rhymes into remixes, just to grab the attention of my forgotten self, less the dress, the makeup, after waking up from the dream worth catching, stretching my arms out to wrap them around the stranger, dangerous to only me, imperative that i embrace her, the her like a ship or a storm or the land that i love, sick to a thermometer, rising out of revelry, celebrating the inauguration of a new queen, l-a-t-i-f-a-h in command, attention, demanding honest intentions, invent a new you that has forgotten your past, due like a library card, books stacked unread, unopened, a birthday present forgotten.

if only i could stutter like sam and turn these rhymes into remixes, i’d honor my imperfections like the 32nd flavor, with a sharpened razor i’d slice through all the bull-hish and get to the real shit, show my stut-stut-stut-stuttering self off, cuz i’m the only one i’ve got, to live for, to be brave for, for i simply CAN be something i’m not, derived from an impassioned heart, ache like a stomach, gut instinct, glutton for punishment, melted resentment, beyond what i’ve been taught, blank slate to be drawn, characters fallen like pawns, waking up to a new dawn, a new day, a way laid out long before i even arrived, not contrived like the rest, puffy chests rising and falling to false breaths, taking granted for grace, amazing revelations passing in the breeze, trees swaying in truths going unseen, sunscreen blocking rays of justifiable beauty, penetrating our skin too deeply, burning our ability to shine.

if only i could stutter like sam and turn these rhymes into remixes, i’d commit crimes that got me committed, to walk the walk, following the lead of my own energy, to double dog dare me, to do it, just like nike, to jump, to take the leap, cliché like an expected forte or crescendo, as the plot thickens, stirring the mix, adding agents, pulling tricks, outta hats, white bunnies running off course, to be studied, me 101, the new major, a general of my own division, captain of my own team, where there is an i, cuz there can’t be a we without me knowing me, stripping down from the outside in, naked like the juice, freshly squeezed, no imitations, surpassing limitations, all natural fruit, rh-rh-rhyming my way to my roots.*