Poem -

First Strike On An Open Mic

First Strike On An Open Mic

My pen the wick, my inks the accelerant. Explosive, I cleanse like shots of epinephrine. Poetic hollow points I got, through your Triple Fat Goose now connect the dots. King of the monsters Boricua Godzilla. They putting APB's on this rap battle killa. Y'all haters on my shit list. I'm attaching mic wires like they gun clips. They get quiet quick when my triggers click. I do somersaults son, like I flipped the script. Imma unify the masses, peace conferences with Bloods and Crips. Unstoppable beast in a cypher, I'm a rabid Rottweiler. Glocks don't gotta holler, my message makes you wiser. Cut you down with verbal fisticuffs my knuckles made of razor blades. Like antigravity, I make you levitate. Charles Xavier, I can stop time so I'm never late. Superhuman powers possible because I'm Puerto Rican made. I keeps it real and tight son, like a fresh fade. When I'm instigated my spit flows ferocious. My squad swarms like locusts. Demon like Jeepers Creepers, crafty Hocus Pocus. Drift past y'all, Ken Block's Ford Focus. I'm Shifty like Onyx. Savage in 16 bars of Spanglish Ebonics. Can't get rid of me son, lower back pain that's chronic. I'm on fire, NBA Jams Seattle Supersonics. My words move the Earth plate tectonics. Hand you the mic and be ashamed of the comebacks you thought of. You don't wanna get caught up. I got them metaphoric switchblades and sawed offs. Creeping through the fog like Rastas in blunt smoke. I'll change my name to Heimlich, since all you do is choke. I hope you listened to every word I've spoken. I'm a rare find son, like a Garden State Parkway toll booth token. Straight up, your 15 minutes of fame will never happen, your microphone is broken...
El Poeta, Jonathan...

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