McQueriosities: Ours is the Kingdom

If poems were songs then I would still be a musician

Transplant me spitting rhymes in the kitchen

Hands getting soapy washing the dinner dishes

With a long haired hippy stumbling over three chords

Not stuttering trying to say more

In one breath

I’m just playing smoke on the water to death

And I should have seen the signs then

The fire burning underneath the surface

Bubbling up from an underwater vent

Till the continents themselves are rent and torn asunder

You might mistake my voice for the sound of thunder

So while you ask yourself how did he stoop so low

I will blow you away with a verbal guitar solo

Because I walk with Wordsworth and Shakespeare’s got my back

And I know if they were alive today they would be practicing rap

See wordsmiths shine a light and the light says walk this way

And we step on the shoulders of giants to reach up to a higher plane

See thanks to the power of science we no longer live in caves

But the oral tradition will stay with us till the end of all our days

As long as there is someone still alive with breath to tell a story

Then the human race will never die

Ours is the fucking glory

Ours is the kingdom and ours is the power

And it’s only taken from us because we allow it

So if anything that I’ve said resonates with you

Take out your old banners and fight for the truth

If poems were songs then I’d still be a soldier

Just another poor soul going uphill with a boulder

And I’m trying to say more in one breath

McQueriosities