I am the breast on the naked body of truth,
I am the rhythm of the talking drum,
The voice of the preacher,
The lessons of the teacher.
I am poetry.
I am the wine that fornicates the lips,
The softness of the cheek.
I am the raw skin on the head of sincerity,
I am that song that makes the baby fornicate with slumber,
I am poetry.
I am the words that make a lion man,
A dog, a warrior.
I am the defiled maiden,
the eyes of the owl.
I am poetry.
I am that motivation that gives man wings,
Feathers to glide.
I am the bullet wounds on the chest of bravery,
A soldier in the war of words.
I am poetry.
I am the eye of the eagle
The strength of the tiger.
I am the weakness of secrecy,
A companion of reality.
I am poetry.
I am the blade that pierces the skin of purpose;
A truth bled.
I am the armour that makes words harlots,
The spear that penetrates the soul,
I am poetry.
I am poetry
The advocate of truth
The naked artist of realism
I am the words oozing out of the mouths of poets
And madmen