All night I was swaying on

An ocean boat

Turning left to straight and

Straight to right

In my strange adventure

Citing poetry I wrote on an

Instant basis

Amazed that the words

In rhyme and free style

Slipped off my tongue so

Rapidly in succession.

But it was though that

I wanted to stop this other


Of producing lines

Run off a human machine.

This poet wished to record

The verses

But the other me prided

Himself part of a slam

Nobody could freeze or

Write the stanzas down.

Unto the early morning

I still tried in desperate awe

Repeating a line

Or two.

Yet the scene ended in a

Subline reckoning of poetry

Having been dreamt

But impossible to have

A ghost of a chance to be

Recorded for posterity.





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