I can’ t paint with a brush  that well,

But I know how to paint with a pen and an ink well.

My words form pictures that pictures themselves couldn’t describe.

Your photograph may be worth 1000 words.

But my words share the value of gold.

Still, I cant find a word to describe my future

It seems like no such word exist in Japanese, English, or Swahili diction

That I could boldly frame above my bedhead that would embolden me to hope or dream

Or hope to dream

In sleepy stupor of what I’d ideally be

Fictionally, I’d have awoken to a presidency

 but I’ll just be realistic  

I will be a superwoman                       

Saving the art of language for the sake of society

I used to be word girl

But I prefer word woman

I will be a basketball player

And as the crowd exclaims

I will slam dunk lexicon in your mouth

Lisa Leslie versus Lebron James

I will be an astronaut

Discovering words in galaxies of different dimensions

I will be a doctor              

Breathing for the mute

Speaking life into your lungs

I will be a prophetess

Vocabulary giving me visions

I’ve spoken word about the future

I will be a teacher                           

Training preachers to preach, speakers to speak, leaders to lead, readers to read, reapers to reap, dreamers to dream

of etymology

I will be a choreographer

Letters will stretch, bend, and synchronize at my command

I will be a musician

Reading dynamic half notes as hyphenated words dance on the treble clef

I will be a body builder

Weighing the pros of prose and cons

I will be a scientist

Combining ions and

Chemically composing oxygen with receptivity to produce

Verbalization

My ionic bond

I will live a life that which I am fond

And screams to the hills: I have lived, I have lived

I can die now.

My epitaph declares:

“Master rhymer, epic writer, lyrical fighter, verbal appetizer, peculiar primer, and world lighter”

My future framed.