The Marshall Poet

I spew words for a reason

But don’t think I’m on some activist shit though there’s nothing wrong with that for the ones on some activist shit

Creative expression is a release and contribution

If well-intended charity without the physical aspect

Or more fairly, a debt that is owed for the gift of life

Spewing a whole host of things

When the words are too contained I can get to trembling like an addict on the corner waiting for the next fix

I gotta say this and I gotta say that

But I’m not going to waste my time on how to get the ones in power to give to me

Why do that when God already put all the necessary gifts in me?

The gifts themselves simulate the power of God, because they are, in fact, an expression of God

Moving mountains

Shit, get someone that’s aligned enough with the universe and you’re looking at a man or woman that can move planets

Work on me, work on me, work on me, work on me

No one in this world is saying that, it’s just work on them, work on them, work on them

That shit’s not feasible, it’s the absolute worst of plans

And man, the good feeling that fills you up when you’re working on yourself in an effective manner

It makes it all worth it

And no, working on yourself isn’t just making sure you get paid

But paid is nice

Can’t deny being paid helps you work on yourself

Hell, I can only spew words well-constructed that rewire minds and get people to look deep inside because I worked on myself

And what do you know?

The words I can spew because of the work on me instead of you gets people to look on the inside, evolve their perspectives, maybe even change their world views

Pointing out every flaw in the world is an eternal battle and a less than happy life is an eternal fate down such a path

Damn, days I’ve been working on myself and had to stop and think

Man, I am tired as shit

But guess what, that’s just the kind of shit that you have to deal with

And maybe one day you’ll be able to spew words that reach further than a hobo’s projectile vomit

Be able to spew more than a professional eater after a boiled egg eating contest, a ten-minute merry-go-round ride, and ten shots of Vodka

And maybe one day your spew will reach deeper into minds than puke into a McDonald’s play pit as the balls shift around because kids are playing in it

Your spew will stick around like vomit splattered on wet paint

Your spew will be interesting like the taste of gumbo after some drunk maniac at your dinner party mistook your pot for —

Aw, nevermind

I’m out



Home of my open journal. I will speak about growth and take you through the heaven and hell that makes up this process

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Jon on the River

Jon on the River

Home of my open journal. I will speak about growth and take you through the heaven and hell that makes up this process