Radio Beast

a poem by Dale Costello, Australia - poetry writer, author, poet

sometimes
when I listen to his rap
I have to take off my cap
I have to stand up and clap
at words
as they speed
through artist and need
street poet
as he bleeds
without bending his knees
to promises or please:
get up and get out there
shake those bones
from the lounge chair,
and I don't even care
if he makes sense
or rhymes
pulls the ghetto out
wails! on the hate crimes
as long as he believes
in the same air
that we breathe
a beat bleeding through
that no amount of stones
could hold a candle
in the night to
that whisper so wise
its seen truth
heard lies
searched for heaven
in the lost
words spearing 'paradise'...

so when its over
I applaud
at the song, at his sword
at the nature
of deliverance
from whatever foul conceived
permanence
he escaped
via pure ability
to feel the beat
and easily
set the beast in it free
and somewhere
for a moment
along with it: me.

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