The Dead of Night

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I’m content, not complacent
Forgiving, not indulgent
Tryna craft my verses so they’re cogent
Thin lines between the aforementioned pairs
I’ve seen how tension wears
Fields free from tares are my greatest cares
I’ve seen some better days
And I’ve known some better nights
Nonetheless, my ardor stays
Cedar to termites
I never really realized
I wasn’t truly baptized
Till I was able to put my life upon a table
And watch the feeble cable upon which it all relies
And take my taste of vale's lies
I’ve sown some mighty seeds
And have flown amongst the crows
I have seen how pencil bleeds
O’er Styx my pen rows
I
Have seen the Reaper
In
The eyes of man
Cold
Are jeers of critics
Bold
I must stand
It feels off to take a girl out on my mother’s money
So I do seek secure the bag
I’m not frontin’ for honey
But I don’t need dough for some idle beauty
Pen’s all I need for my kind of duty
Scratch of the paper’ll do it for me
If I bleed for the craft I can write a story
I don’t want to spend my life beholden to the banal
If you know me you know I see writing on the panel
Chosen
Easy to forget when you’re surrounded
Blinded
By the sickly seeds which Orchard’s founded on
I’m not a pawn
I am the board upon which the game is played upon
Fall to my knees
I will sail how I know
I hear call of the seas
Mast and canvas are my flow
Feeling like writing a villanelle and some quatrains
Feeling sweetness like vanilla coursing through my veins
Familiar sensation of the craft taking soul’s reins
Recognizing pitter-patter of creativity’s rains
Chasing
Not for the cup of the liquor
But for my vocation
Pacing
Not for the sake to be sicker
But for the pure reason of patience
Long into the night I work upon my craft
I’ve been swimming in the sea
Without even inflated raft
All that’s certain in this life is uncertainty
While you’re searching for surety
I’m in love with insanity
If you cry Ma
It won’t buy time
I’ve been walking in the tundra
In dead of night
And I sing my songs
So I don’t lose sight
I know all the creatures
Are drawn to the light
Haven’t found a lover on my lonely trail
‘Cause my uncle always taught me chase more than tail
I’m the kind of brother that’ll seek life’s wrath
For sake of blood to write a tale
Closing my eyelids I see my moira, yeah, see I my fate
Which is another reason nothing on this earth can hope me sate
Sweet
I look like cinnamon
Sour
Tasting from my lemon pen
Wheat
I separate it from the chaff
Power as I use my staff
Swinging like a Tarzan
Through the jungle, Wisdom
Spray can, I am
Making art on the walls of the mausoleums
‘Spite the spectators of the coliseums
I know it appalls but I draw on the palls
And I speed it up
And I do not pause
I’m a shepherd to the flock and I see the paws
Of the wolf in the midst of the sheep
Big jaws
If you cry Ma
It won’t buy time
I’ve been walking in the tundra
In dead of night
And I sing my songs
So I don’t lose sight
I know all the creatures
Are drawn to the light

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