An artist's articulations
Waves like brain pattern fluctuations
Through blue inkblot dot drops
From the top of ball point pens
Bought from souvenir shops
On Florida's docks
Giving birth to rhythmic rhyme
Read in jazz clubs and coffeehouse shops
With flows that don't stop
Flowing like concentric rings
Or a deranged fugitive with an escape route
And a private plane on old runways in Maine
But these words take flight
Inspite of what you may like to hear
From ignorance clogged ears
The unexposed and disclosed define fear themselves from within
Like saying they can't do it because they are women
Or he's black
Just because the 60's and 70's produced burnt-out macks
addicted to smack
But can't afford it
 So they settle for crack
 And a nap sack next to rusted railroad tracks
 Leaving single black mothers with bundles of bills
 struggling on their backs
 On cold December nights
 I wish the best for my mother
 And let my words take flight