Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Bleek's green plays the blues.

I speak to the wind, a leaf to a grin
Smile in the eye of the storm
While I perform and form these grand stanzas
Command stars to stand up from a land of words
From earth; exhumed from dunes in tunes, fine-tuned to come first
One burst out the ground to sprout and show how rooted we are
New to these parts
I'm more familiar than you
Real in a quest for truth
I lie awake; rem's relevance
Conscious of what's in development
Testing views
Eyes forsake the unseen
Cyclops, just come clean
Saw that I wrote something
Imagine a third optic watching
Forgotten that pupils can't learn without being taught
Thought patterns unravel faster than cheap fashions
So I sew sentences to messages, forever knit in letters
Print better with meticulously executed uses of mind
Is this the end of it?

G. Arthur ©2010

Sent on the Now Network� from my Sprint® BlackBerry

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