WordPrint

Bunions and blisters basically bombarding a balanced base

Anchored by hammer toes and ingrowns,

Yet I still stomp with the charisma of a Black Frat.

Achilles heel burnt by the passion of running the point.

For those that don’t know,

I can go like Arcidiacono; on and off the floor

Bending these creaky knees,

Clearly bringing fire from my core;

Don’t mean I’m gonna take the shot.

Not the shooter…

These hands of a stuntman hold up 2 V’s

Cause from beginning to end,

I’m a NOVA in this penitentiary sky,

Tightening my Big 5,

I beat on a chest far too familiar with heartache…

Boom! Boom! Boom! … Banging

With fist that’s been shootin jabs since the womb.

Basketball is a lifelong love, but life?

It ain’t no game.

Playing dead ain’t real and I feel,

Inadequate is my name…

It’s a damn shame

When memories gotta keep you in it to win it.

Seeing through the gloom and smelling the future

Produces the WORD that makes a dying existence infinite.

WORD… Official… The real… 100.

WORD? Is that so? For real? It can’t be.

WORD travels fast, can only be slow when stuttered.

WORD can cut ever-so-deep whether exclaimed or muttered.

WORD goes higher than any trip or high.

WORD leaves my soul and genuinely inseminates receptiveness…

From the bottom to the top – circulating throughout,

As I walk what I say.

The Underdog knows no surrender only knowing

The 1^st place of a Champ by initially being a contender.

There’s beauty in this struggle of rising to the occasion.

WORD!!

Copyright © 2016 by Leroy Elwood Mann