War Words (Ultraviolet) 2010

Mad props to you and your crew too it's true.
Most of you spit matchstick flame blue
but I spit yellow stars I'm bigger than you.

My lines are diamonds you're still writing granite.
Your metaphors are meteors mine are planets.
You're writing poems
I'm birthing poets.

I lead teams to victory my futures shining clearly
all you got to look forward to is your history.

So spit as hard you can and let your light glow
Then come see me. I spit ultraviolet I make young ones grow.

I PRAY for the day the pupil surpasses the master
If you think you're faster then take the pen from my palm.
Till then...
Wash your hands!
And MAYBE...
I'll let you carry the microphone stands.

I'm not fat
this ain't no gut
9 months ago the speaker bust a nut.
I'm bout to give birth to another poet.

Missed your chance to battle me you're lucky.
Best that you could hope to be is my flunky.
Now run along get some air freshener
I'm gonna show you how to make your flows funky.

There's a fundamental flaw floating in your frontal faculty
if you're thinking about battling me.
You can't afford the Phe- tote my mic for me
and maybe I'll teach you how to almost be me.

Rich might Shake but I cause quakes,
fuck an 8.8,
I make the Earths core break,
Haiti and Chile were minor poetry breaks.  

You're a Jason Voorhees poet beating up little camp kids.
I'm a Freddy Krueger poet I'll even beat you in your dreams kid.

I'm Slamzilla,
you're a papier-mâché Tokyo beggin to be stomped.

You're an origami poet just waiting to be folded.
Ssshhh… stand to my right wash your, hands here's my pen I'll let you hold it.

Whether I see you as my successor or not no matter.
Step to me B and get Shattered.
It's cute the way your ink prematurely splattered.
Cream...
Trying to spitfire and all I see is steam.
You're still training.
Your poetic diaper you're still ink staining.       

You best wear your rubber rhymes when you step to this
I spit syphilis lines I'm so sick with this.
Get your inkoculation before you come for this.
I'm going to Tina you turner you're gonna need an anesthetists.

You couldn't hold the hands on a stop watch
no wonder you're hating on the grandfather clock.
Dude you're gonna need to call the Doc,
cause you're just a quak, a lame duck,
barley new born pup
you don't even see what I'm saying scruffy.  
You can't carry this my pen it weighs a pound puppy.

 I think I left somebody out
                                                                time keeper STOP!....
NEVERMIND!!

I've already out slammed the other six dwarfs but I’m refuse to step to Doc.

All hail Jane Marie when her words start to gather
but no matter how powerful the queen she's still just a pawn.
Cause as long as the king is still standing the game can go on.

Hear ye hear ye;

            To all who bare witness to my words. Hence forth and forever more I will out shine them that oppose me like a yellow star against the glow of the candle they can't hold to me. I will spit life, till I extinguish their flame like so many wet matches for we remain unmatched. I, the self-sustained nuclear reaction. They, the smoldering embers of a urine soaked campfire. Let the sweet stench of their extinguished spark rekindle the remembrance of their fate.

Hootie Hooeth
Snooty Smooth Penz

                                                                                                                ~Christopher Michael

War Words was written in 2010 for a poetry slam battle at Killeen Poetry Slam. No poets were hurt in the making of this poem. Make no mistake I love and respect every poet referenced in this poem.

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