The Heir of No Relation by Tapiwanashe Chidemo

A woman I may not be but through creative oration, aureate bundles of joy I give birth
My voice tearing the silence, audio violence, destroying all that is dull and not born of abstract thinking
On my quest to find diamonds in the rough, buried deep, prized ideas I unearth
Parting the land, the feet of Mother Nature in hand, separating all creative jargon from ordinary talking
Become the Maggi, body, mind and souls become three wise men to which my epiphany is bestowed
Behold my speech, refined gold, born in hell forged in suffering, hardened by pain of love always missing
With intellect my words are draped, wrapped in wisdom and with your love may they be adorned
Words dramatic, your body they pay no mind, but spirit they will break, so take heed when listening
From the shadows my lines may come, but to the stars they shall soar, like a bat, a dark knight rising
As my rhymes escape, they leap to freedom, not by strength, it is their spirit that is light all weight of previous fears removed
I love their sound, unbound, mathematically rhythmic, young, wild and free
But I pay my respects to the pause, to be honest to the silence, to the dead we only owe the truth
For Go is nothing without Stop, no king no throne, no dog no bone, it is the contrast of the two that I condone
For the finest blades are those forged of ice and fire, May I forever yield my sword, letting my pen bleed and never retire
May my words carve my path in stone, chiselling off misfortune that may draw me from my destiny?
Slowly rising, jealously enticing, submit to my verbal dominion, come forth for your baptising

 

Kneel to the king, this is different from your knighting, I am the heir of no relation, and this is my coronation.
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