The platform is set, my art forms neglect

is less heart warming, more shards storming my respect.

It’s expected for me to fail, flail wildly in a breeze,

crash in higher classes, slumber in cold debris.

The cold in its degree revolutionises my hustle

so strength of word supersedes physical muscle

I’ll smile at neigh sayers, when they pay us, “the fallen”

through troughs we peak, creep, seeking our true calling.

Who sees the hours mauling, at the writers brick walling?!

Axe and pick scrawling to breath, break a holding!!

Suffocated in a genre that’s been judged from the start,

I crafted my lexicon so they can call it an art,

I don’t ask to be admired, just acknowledged as here

amongst strangers, as much as my closest of peers.

Abolish the fear! quick! So we can storm from the rear

produce a product validating the thorns that we wear.

I wasted time, paced my mind, just to taste that lime …. light!!

Taken the heat, forged my mind so in time I shine … bright

It’s not charity I seek, no, I ask that we repeat

the same respect for fine art, to what is thrown to a beat

the public are narrow viewed, so in gallows we cue

left hung waiting for a simple chance to be viewed

I’d lend my eyes so you can see as I view its true deliverance

Hip Hop the rain drop to feed famines of ignorance