Stoked and chilled.
With a calmness set and ready,
To receive the best...
Of that which has yet to come my way.
Enlighten me with something sick!
Remove the slickness off my path.
That's all I ask.
No luggage to unpack do I have to drop.
None that will pop those out of Queasyville.
You feel me?
Nor am I into weasels who sneak to creep on peeps.
That's what they do to smooze a groove.
And for them whatever is hip is cool with me.
I don't sit on that kind of turf to consider as a re-birth,
Awaiting to quench my thirst to burp on stale leftovers.
I'm down and prepared to get up at anytime the clock ticks,
Wtih a pointing a clear direction chocked full of benefits.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem