A Tattoo Artist Named Pome
A Tattoo Artist Named Pome
Poetry in Motion
Flown, cross the skin
These hieroglyphics attached to our spirit
Tell a story from within
Like what it must have felt like stealing home base
Spreading peanut butter for the first time
Going on to sweep the nation off her feet singing ‘bout stir fry
Reflective of the times
When Finding enrichment
In the scraps
In the unforgiving
Was the only way
Getting the nourishment out from discouragement
How strong a people
How detrimentally loving
Can not stop we
Can only hope to contain we
Write it down get it governed
In hopes to slow the advancements in Medicine
Market places so uplifting
It’s as if the shingled roofs were scraping the sky
Yeah, these hieroglyphics attached to our spirit
Tell a story
Crossing a fade into the right beat
Crossing a fade to get the buzzer beat
If that mirror broke it still wouldn’t look as sharp
Bringing it from where everybody looks like you
To where everybody does not
POME is the name
As in Product. Of. My. Environment
Poetry In Motion
Flown across the skin
To get up every day put it together
To secure your first home
These hieroglyphics emoji’d
The embroidery
Emblazoned upon us by a kiss of sunray
Breaching the clouds,
As if they were trying to reach we the people
And not the other way around
Yeah, these hieroglyphics tell a story alright!
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