If I
Wrapped my words in gold silk
Spit that real, hard core ilk
Draped each consonant in jewels and rubies, diamonds and pearls
Spoke real enough for the fellas, but smooth enough for the girls
Got my sentences all dressed up and took off the blues
Put on their good clothes and their two-stepping shoes
Would they like me more?
If I achieved platinum status
Resurrected TRL’s mania
Brought home the chops, the hocks in addition to all the bacon
Sold albums and spoke on stages from Bangladesh to Bangkok
Awaken the spirit of David and Hughes, never taking a pit stop
Took a seat on Oprah’s couch
On the account of running my mouth
I wonder
To who’s name would they sing their praises?
Make my mouth speak your words, oh Lord
Because while the wiles of this world
Can take my rhymes and lower their worth
I take my time and put you first
Take my cool and make it burn
So Your love and grace can truly work…
Cuz even accolades someday will fade away
Oh just like me
Yes everything but You, yeah
And many years from now, it won’t matter
How I write the rhymes I do, yeah
Help me get back to the reason I sing for you
All I have in this world are the words that I speak
Words you have given me
All the performance tricks and slam poetic tactics
Tricks of the trade from thee.
Even as they tickle the ears of the critics
and win slam scores
How am I to separate them
from their true author?
In your eyes,
I am your child,
Still learning the alphabet you have given me.
Every sigh and rise, every term and rhyme,
each drop of spit, each line…
And even though they love
My alliteration,
symbolism,
analogies and flows
diction,
inflection
wordplay and prose…
My job is only to serve as a mirror.
Though I speak with emotion, focus on tones with locomotion
Firm like stones and boulders, and moving like the ocean
My words are made
To sing your praise…
Created and formed
To bring you glory
Cuz even accolades someday will fade away
Oh just like me
Yes everything but You, yeah
And many years from now, it won’t matter
How I write the rhymes I do, yeah
Help me get back to the reason I sing for you
Why are we so convinced
a bigger audience
is simply common sense to have?
Why does it seem
That the theme of achievement
Can so easily deceive us
Into believing
That He even
Needs us?
Maybe success
is measured best
by nothing less
than our obedience...
so Father,
help me find you, even if I speak to an anthill
let The audience of One bring my heart thrills
let my soul tremble with the bass, and let me relish in the taste
help me Father…
Help me get back to the reason I sing for you.
2 comments:
This poem was really nice. Its not about the praise we get from others but from Him. He is the reason why I sing Amen.
@*MWAH* - Thanks for the love, I really appreciate it. This comes from a very real place. Just to let you know I'm beginning the process of moving my blog over to wordpress: dateofdunbar.wordpress.com. The content will pretty much be the same, but I was in the mood for a new environment. Direct your attentions there for more of my writing, as I'll be closing this site down in a week or so.
Thanks again!
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