Yea I'm brilliant, I'm a very clean mouse.
I'm a smarty pants, I'm Bill Gate's house.
I'm a super computer, I'm satellite.
I'm a Published Author, I'm an Astronaut
I'm a rapper or rather a poet that utter words with grey matter.
I'm a Philosopher, I'm an Entrepreneur.
I'm a Lecturer, I'm an Actor.
Listen to my writings, can you not hear them speak.
Aren't they fluent or rather eloquent?
Don't I write with confidence?
Try picturing me on a stage in front of an audience.
Picture me through my writings.
Can you not see me well dressed, slick and neat, in jacket and bow-ties?
Can you not see me speaking on a platform with a mic in my hand?
Aren't my words tantalizing?
Aren't my rhymes worth fantasizing on?
Now picture you on an island!
And my words being the sand, see and sun.
Isn't that pure brilliants?
Let my words blow your mind!
Yea, I write like the wind.
This right here is the wind blowing through the hairs on the pores of your skin.
These words are penetrating your inner being.
Can't you not see brilliants?
Can't you not feel acuteness?
This is music without instruments?
This is music without vocals?
This is lyrics being transmitted through an imaginary rhythm.
This isn't the so called melody from the songs still being amplified in your memory.
This is a hymn being cleverly exhibited on an inaudible frequency.
This is a pure brilliant artistry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem