Body found
Soul lost
Never had a chance to say my final goodbyes to her
I feel so lost
How much does a soul cost?
Do you have change for a five?
What is it I have to do to bring poetry back alive?
Blood flowing from her brain dead
Hollow points located in the same head
that she used as her tool between her two shoulders
like Kuhjo Goodie said
Thoughts of a dead soldier
between enemy lines lies a book of lines in a stanza
format with smiles and metaphors that was meant for all races
to proactively combat the ills
socially, economically, politically with a little bit of humor and romance
in between commas, periods, and spaces
Still, the enemy lied to my face
I was told she would be okay
Instead, she lies in a coma for a period of ages
Maybe she’s not dead after all
Then again, after all, she was involved when Langston put words on pages
and Maya telling young queens Still I Rise from the ashes
that made them into survivors.
As a reformed prisoner mentally escaping inmates out of cages
That’s what poetry was meant to me before her demise
If I could only hear her voice one more time
she would say I’m alive in the spirit
You just can’t see me. You can’t touch me.
You can’t love me the way you used to love me back in the day
and I hope and pray that you find someone else to replace me
I wish she could’ve faced me before doctors placed her head
on her death bed
Poetry is dead
Eyes bloodshot red from the tears I cried
when you’re not here
I tried to not fear the worst, but all I feel is the hurt from the curses
put on against verses used to empower, inspire, educate, and eradicate
hate only in love and for the love of this art
Now that we’ve grown apart because of being too comfortable
I’m vulnerable to the fact you’re not here anymore
The same place where we shared a bond that I thought we would last
A little black kid who was fond of reciting poetry in class while looking
at the hourglass
Times up
You dead
I’m cried up from this outcry
Nice try
Maybe I will see you in another lifetime
She only had one lifeline
That was you and I
Meaning Us
You probably got jealous from seeing us together at coffee shops
Sharing a cup of coffee or at open mic showcases
where they showed faces of poets acting rebellions
just to prove a point
You couldn’t stand us meeting up in the evenings
I hope you, you, and you are laughing while I’m grieving over the death of…
You fill in the blank
She’s like gas with no car
I got to fill in the tank
I know you sorry she passed, but I got to move on
Until I saw something in her that prevented me to move on
She had the same eyes, nose, ears, lips, mouth, and smile as me
Even all of her body parts, including her ass cheeks
The first and last name as me
If you were to ask me where were you last week
I was at the corner of Washington Rd. and Roosevelt getting some
Arizona Ice Tea and a bag of Skittles
Until I was caught up in a spiritual warfare
Gunfire exchanges
Leaving bullet holes into the body causing changes
to the dearly retired only to find out it was me who got shot and killed
on the same street where I was having flashbacks
from when I was just a baby playing with toys
Mom and dad in the household raising a boy
Single mom faced with a choice
Raised me by myself or go live with my dad
Bud dad wasn’t stable so cable became my dad
At times, no food on the table so I got my pen and pad
Whenever I was mad
Writing words down with my head down on the school desk
She had on a new dress every time I wrote
and became woke every time she spoke
Until I got smoked by bullets of distractions
Boom…you’re dead now forget about you
The world continues without you
Those were the last words said now that poetry is gone.

Credits: Written and Produced by Sean Garvey