The Dead of Night

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