Finding my voice

Poetry

When I started writing and performing.
I took a lot of inspiration from battle rap.
Thinking, if I could master my nerves.
Then with the rest of the scene.
I figured maybe I could handle that.
But my early material was pretty basic.
I didn’t rate it.
I just didn’t think I had the knack.
Cos crowds were daunting.
And would give me the hump like a camel back.
So on stage I’d shake.
That adrenalin taste proper prepping me for a heart attack.
So I’d try and project.
But my voice would wobble.
Like a CD that keeps skipping parts of tracks.
So I doubled down to beat the nerves.
And began upping my tempo with faster raps.
But found that they didn’t land with the crowd.
Like a baseball player finding that he’s last to bat.
So I went back to basics.
Began to tell stories that were way more personal.
Which had a reaction.
So I became more purposeful.
And my writing got tighter and practically surgical.
Cos now I was cutting to the core of the matter like I was slicing vertical.
My pen and verses now had purpose.
No longer was I writing merciful.
My emotional baggage all over the place.
Like a busy airport type of terminal.
Cos as a problem, this was workable.
Now my material leapt off the page.
But it had taken so long to get to this stage.
By never pushing myself, how was I expected to change?
Cos this situation had left me intense and deranged.
Selling myself short had become a senseless exchange.
So to preserve my sanity, I now write every day. 
Flexing my emotional muscles so that they get exercised. 
Purging demons with my pen till they’re exorcised.
Digging into my psyche.
Seeing which parts of me will be next in line.
Cos it’s amazing how, with words, you can get this high.
Although the process kind of has me petrified.
Not long ago I muddled along with the masses. 
Now I feel like I’ve left that tribe. 
In uncharted territory.
Wondering if I should dive in properly and test this vibe. 
Is it worth it, this poetry? 
Should I invest the time? 
At this point your guess is as good as mine.
Because our complex emotions are as deep as the ocean.
They ebb and flow. 
And if you fight and suppress them.
You’ll fast discover that they’re a worthy foe.
Feelings will peck at your mind. 
Taking flight when you reach for them like a nervy crow. 
It’ll be like you’re lost in a blizzard. 
Trying to see your way through blurry snow. 
Yeah, this is how your journey goes. 
Maybe you’ll turn to religion. 
This is probably what the clergy hopes. 
Just don’t make snap decisions.
Thinking you can strengthen your position with an early vote.
But I’m making it all sound like a murderous chore. 
Is expressing myself really worse than before? 
It’s like pre-poetry I was trapped in a room.
And writing has helped me burst through the door. 
So now my language has tactics.
Like scrabble, my words do backflips.
Cos all I’m ever doing is learning to score. 
So each time I put pen to paper it’s a game and cathartic.
Every day, I get better with letters.
Cos I’m just taming my artist.
In a state of psychosis I explore my neurosis.
Cos I’m a Doctor at this and my mind is my TARDIS.
And as I get more bold and evolve, I’m proud to say that my resolve is the hardest. 
My imagination infinite.
Like space, with its cold and its darkness. 
It’s where I find my creative place.
And reveal my true face. 
It’s where I’m the calmest. 

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