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My MC
He sits on a rock in the midst of Central Park
as the sky scrapers peer over his shoulder hoping for a
glimpse of his words
He palms a pad in one hand as the other spills ink
upon paper absorbing true lyrics of poetic phenomena
I see his lips humming the beat that drums through his brain
as his head nods and feet beat against concrete
An MC
with vivid visions of microphone victories
galloping through his psyche
lyrically crushing those who dare to contend
against the might of his tongue and pen
He sits
heart pumping against his shirt
The hurt of the world mingling with birds singing
as his page flips
and those juicy lips leaking poetic poison
drowning within the noise of the city
VL Reid 2006
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"He sits
heart pumping against his shirt
The hurt of the world mingling with birds singing
as his page flips
and those juicy lips leaking poetic poison
drowning within the noise of the city"
I loved this stanza! Well done. The rhythm of this poem is concrete and the structure really fits well with what you are trying to say. I couldn't find anything to edit or suggets any changes...once again I am stuck with "I like it" wow...I keep going over and over that last stanza...it is just GOOD!
