Star Hazing

You don’t need to cook

I can feed you with my poetry book

My mob’s deep, my pen got that Floetry look

I model topless the title’s a naked headline

Pout with my prose

The truth in my rows ain’t head lyin’

Make music cos I’m a pure lyre

Heart crying, tall stories,  it pays per spire

Call me ass pyre or spitfire

Jamaicans call me de sire

Drama, king of hotlines

Call me prime time with my hotlines

Feed you so much from my books you guys even got spines?

Treat you like my concubines

Every poem’s a gilded globe in the spotlights

This groups so dark, my subjects have you even got lights?

Bold verbs and pot nights here’s another verse another a thriller

I’m the rare beast in this jungle

Silver backed gorilla sippin on Sasparilla

Now where’s my Oscar ?


You want an Oscar for a hot what?

Poet stop lying to me

Your pen got the horn?  I’m a hunt you for ivory

Eat your title for breakfast and regurgitate your lie berry

Exterminate your species I don’t want to read your library

The hills are alive to me poet stop creating mountains

I pour out my soul you set up water fountains

Your art stop pounding it

Like maize you need to knead it, flavour agents not spews

10 daily posts like you got a muse to rock views

Heck I’m a stop reading it,

Even glee would stop believing it

5 poems a day like “that’s my good deed innit”

You want re-views like DVD’s cos if I like it’s something

We all love to share but poetry dumping?

It’s like giving away the numbers of everybody you slept with

Ate and crept with

Made a bet with but never followed up after

Take time to lick your lips like LL between chapters

Cos right now you’re like hydrants in the ocean in case of a rig blast

How long will your ink last,

The last post you got to think past call it meteoric fall

So many productions will be fall from abyss

Twilight ball

I crush microphones like cochineal beetles

Pink blast

Torturing preening rhymes by mean ink and metaphors

Gimp mask

Exposing every baller who burns the rock instead of smoking it

No Handle

Ripping the cape off every heir to the bardship leaving them naked in winter

No mantle

Hollowing out every stump that dumps its branches in my yard

U scrape barrels

Piercing every soul with your eyes

Mia Farrow

Mellow fellow but there’s no hello test tube babies in poetry

Don’t call me narrow, yeah we be a harrow yet we are a hallow



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