Someone once said, "words are the tools that separate us from fools."
Words are really tools,
even though poets are not the tool makers,
but poets are tool users,
and our tools have got skill, style and staying power.
The isolated mind by Uzbek is the 6th entry so far, and men,
I feel this guy no be small.
Hmmm, the power of words,
so powerful, it cuts deeper than a sword.
I've been dwelling on the wagon
often intoxicated by red rum spelt backwards (red rum spelt backwards=murder)
See, he was a son of the gun,
so it shouldn't be surprising if you heard he was always on the run
trying to beat the lightening & bolt cos they say life is a race
all for the desire to reach for his amazing grace.
Sometimes, a brother's ego could be his downfall
this continues to question, what do i write for?
is it for the truth, the cause or the pride? for within the pride lies the prejudice
Like am the jury, am i to prejudge this????
When the truth is handled like a knife; i guess it's not hard to stab with it
i even play poker-faced to pretend it's not happening to me
Because my whole life is like a complex sentence, it gives you labial factor
so it's hard to pronounce my innocence; for it clutches down my vocal cord.
now am here spitting fire,
trying to move while laying on the floor, you can say i drag-on.
Like Daniel, trapped in the Lion's den.
Calling for rescue mission; this is not my residence.
and if That stitch in time doesn't save nine, i wonder what happens when it gets to ten.
***imbibing scriptures and epistles of saints in similar situations***
***many got saved by the gospel, that's the manifestation***
i tried to get on the train but it suddenly got derailed
if Jacob could wrestle with an angel to stake his claim;
then i must be so lame not to have done the same.
Life wrote me a song, with the tune embedded in my head
the fainted rhythm I project the fainted rhythm on every edge.
As I lurk deeper, it gets boring.
Wait a minute....
must i take my food to the roof top because i'm fed up?
wow! that's a question for ages!
on another train of thoughts, i keep crying like a baby.
many a times, i fell victim to my own stubborn erection
guess i will just allow this gift of words pave me a lucid direction.
such is life, the race , you sprint
losing no connection with the track till my heels get weary
should that be scary?
Because i'm in it to win it.
Watch the video via this link
#WarOfWords- The Isolated Mind by Uzbek
For details on how to enter for War Of Word the slam competition
go to this link
War Of Words - Slam Poetry Competition