Paintbrush realities draw verbal boundries around me...Poetry in motion becomes a sad song of anti-progress...We seem to regress to a time where panoramic views of society never exist...We remain still-framed and motionless...Only hate to blame and top the list...Revolutionary dreams seem meaningless as the fight looks endless...But the long road to hope is the
road less traveled...Blanket injustices unravel if we keep pulling more than it can handle...The American dream is more than I can
stand to sleep on...The American Nightmare is what we need to rest our knees on...need to pray for a reason to believe on...More like, we just need a reason to breathe
on...So I keep on keeping on, beside myself
with myself to lean on...Shouting from the sidelines to keep on leading on...Looking for fertile minds to plant seeds on...
Maybe one day growing a tree bearing fresh fruits of Freedom...