No one except people I know probably get the whole “Son of Art” concept. Well, my daddy’s name is Art. I also have a creative bone that expresses itself artistically, and that makes me the son of art in a sense. It’s corny, but it’s also genius. Anyway, I wish it would stop raining already. It’s been like this for about two weeks it seem like. I went to church today. I didn’t go to the meeting I had intended on going to because it was so rainy and dreary all I wanted to do was eat and sleep. Thank God for that. Thank God I wasn’t outside at some gas pump in the rain, standing there for hours not knowing if I had pumped gas or not because I was so high. Yeah, it was like that sometimes. So LIT and looking stupid. I ain’t gotta live like that no mo. Tomorrow begins a new week. I’m waiting to see what God has in store. I hope it’s something. He guides me into my destiny and all these flowers bloom, and all these angels come down and give me a crown of pure gold and diamonds and let me know how proud He is that I’m sober. Just being facetious. No, it doesn’t work like that. I need to put another poem up here, but I haven’t received what the visual should be. I read today that poetry is typically the vehicle for prophetic oracles. That made me think and take my poetry more seriously. I have to write it on here like I did when I first wrote it down with pencil. I can’t be changing words to be more acceptable. After all, they’re not my words. I don’t write poetry. God HAD to have put that those words in my heart to write down. It’s crazy how it all started when I was just playing with one of my rehab bros, saying I was going to write 16 bars for my graduation speech. That turned out to really happen. It was a poem to me, but of course I’m black and have rhythm so I read the poem with a little beat in my head and it came out like a rap. I prophesied to rehab bro and it came to pass. Lol. Crazy. Well, that’s all I got. Thanks for letting me share.
sonof.art.blog 