Poetry is a weapon that I always have ready.
My brain is fully loaded with verbal ammo,
My tongue is always keen to open fire,
I’m ever ready to deal out poetic justice.
I know my combat drill, let’s do it.
I visualize my verse.
I ready my rhyme.
But most importantly,
Once I pick a target,
I don’t recite until I see the whites of their eyes.
Then I never hesitate to unleash poetry,
I let slip my words of war,
Savoring the impact of each phrase fired,
I empty my verse into the target.
Watching them fall with a poem between the eyes.
As my mouth begins to smoke I halt,
Then I flick the safety catch on my couplets.
Pausing my performance,
But remaining vigilant,
Poetry is a weapon and I always shoot first.