Laureate's Gambit #IAM

"Laureate's Gambit" 


100 percent, nothing less 

I have no choice but to give it all 

Every ounce of my being is being tested 

I'm overcoming fears of neglection (neglect) 

I'm besting the best part of me 

Teaching myself lessons that are ones for the record 

a little food for thought if you're able to digest it  

all of my hopes are resting on this final trump card  

and it really hits my stomach charge like an all or nothing summit charge  

as this ace in the hole dictate's whether I'm all in or fold  

going for the hard earned gold or quick silver that's always sold  


So I have no choice but to give everything I have or else I've sold my soul  

So then I guess ill be sold out  

And if I sold out my soul doubt that makes me role out whenever its time to roll out  

then maybe I'd realize that it maybe a different ballgame each time  

But it's still old bouts  

Because these archaic old doubts seem to arise whenever its time for me to my soul out   

Letting out these bold spouts  

Making me contradict myself in a hot web of lies that makes me revelize (revelation)  

so now: Let out these cold spouts that only poets no about  

Counteract with a base in my voice and a bold snout  

The truth  


For the truth sets us free like phoenix's rising from ashes  

For we put ourselves in the line of fire, just to quench the flames of uncertainty  

In the hearts of those, who do not know there place among hell on earth  

We are here to light a way  

We are the philosophers and philanthropists  

We are the people  

We are all poets, we each have our own story but not equal  

We are the laureates, we are the best  

They say actions speak louder than words but they have never heard us yet  

Because we spit and spew the words problems in text  

We carry the cross of our own crucifixion on our backs and chest and yet  

This is the reality of our quest  

This is not fiction, this is nonfiction  

Genius linguistics, beyond spittin'  

Written on fertile and virgin paper which we make come to fruition  

for generations of poets this is tradition  

and in edition  

Best case scenario our work is loved and we make world renown editions  

The risky life of the laureates mission  


We come from all walks of life and all shapes and sizes  

and like finger prints, we all have different styles  

You have those who talk about sex and those who speak celibate  

Those who be talking with slang and those who speak, really eloquent  

Those who speak with a purpose and those who put random words and sayings in there pieces for the hell of it  

And those who were brought in good school systems and private schools  

and those, like me brought up in a school system with bad principles and terrible class  

Yet still I walk out with perfect etiquette, flawlessly using my subjects and predicates now  

Don't believe me, just listen to my words and you'll see  

That every piece I write has a little bit of me  

I make mental pictures with my words for you to see  

That means I, myself, am the picture so go ahead and frame me  

Frame ME!!!  

and if this criminal creativity then go ahead and frame me cause I will gladly confess to this artistry because this is my life  

You want to know who I am, listen to what I have to say  

Listen and remember  

Remember, remember ME, remember my words, remember me  

Remember me, remember me when its all over   

When I was supposed to have had enough because my cup will never runneth (run) over because my life is an open book  

And these words, I spew them all  

Just to get my point across to ya'll, whether I rise it does not matter because the poet  

spills it all   

MY journey begins within and with end, and all my soul has written  

And I stand here spilling my guts out to ya'll  

I pore my life on a page just for you to examine this beast from the opposite stand point view of the stage  

I do not need fancy words, and witty wordplay  

Just to get my point across like a tightrope walker  

Hoping my words wont fall on depth ears  

I just bridge the gap between my message and your understanding  

And these words become the middle ground   

and this paper becomes the material which this road is built on  


So with this pen  

grasped within my hands  

I begin to explore the canvas we call paper with these strands  

Of thoughts that flow through my mind  

My whole life unravels before me  

Some stories of pain and depression and others of glory  


So with this pen,  

clasped within my fist  

I being to explore myself through my own slit wrists  

For the pen is my knife, the paper is my skin  

And the ink is the blood that I draw from within  


Who am I? I am a poet  

Who am I? I am a laureate  

Who am I? I AM ME  

and what I down on these pieces of paper are story  




This poem is about: 
Our world


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741