I travel the world as a poet, Listen to what I see
Meet masterpieces with stories, Authentic forgeries
The ones you don’t see coming, Forever haunt your mind
The heartbeats and the breath, Of the life that I call mine

Everyone’s an artist, Sinner and saint as well
Grandma’s recopies, Didn’t know or wouldn’t tell
The man who shaves ice, Down at the corner store
Worked every Sunday, “It’s what the lord put me here for”
There was the baker, Who made everything from scratch
Fresh fruits and vegetables, From Myrtle’s fertile patch
Old man Johnny, Who fought in every war
Peace is not a disease, Liquor, Not answer or cure
The one eyed sailor, Sold his catch by the shore
Lady Luck, Real or folklore
Their words to me, Were brushstrokes, Waiting to be seen
The heartbeats and the breath, Of the life that has chosen me

When I get lonely, I close my eyes
They reappear, Like snapshots, In the camera of my mind
Stories are different, Cause no ones the same
Every soul, A masterpiece, Waiting to be framed
Don’t mislead our youth
Teachers, Prophets and Poets, Know the difference
Between Power, Knowledge and Truth

The reason I left, Became a slave to the road
As a boy, I met Indian Joe
He sat on the porch, At the old folks home
It’s his stories I tell, They are etched upon my soul
His truth was of the past, Remembered when the buffalo roamed
Said “ Never follow blindly, Only your medicine can set you free,
Always be humble, Your canvas is truth and time”