WRITER’S BLOCK? (a poem)
Sometimes the words don’t come, but is it Writer’s Block?
Or am I waiting for my lyrics to acquire stock?
I’m all bout spitting Truth, forget that double talk,
But I’d be lying if I said I thought my stock would drop,
If I went in the booth and spit a lot of slop,
Cause mediocre seems synonymous with Hip Hop!
Forget a lyricist, Brotha; these kids can barely talk,
Giving me Culture Shock, listening to a Laughingstock!
If I don’t finish this, is the intention lost?
Am I just wasting provocation like a niggling cough?
Or am I holding back to spare the holocaust?
An intervention with ambitions of sparing the shock,
Of hearing Truth that Hurts, but what’s a lie impart?
I’d rather gather hate from honesty right at the start,
Than ever weave deceit into a line of art,
It’s only real when the appeal you hear comes from the heart!
By: Christopher Louis Reid