Wake up!
Is what I heard, a call from beneath,
I checked my watch and, a deep breathe,
Surfaced, time was running out of hand.

A genuine call, action was next on line,
On my writing table, light and wine,
No, not wine, porridge,
Between African and pride was the bridge.

A call that found me deep dreaming,
To date, I don't feel like up waking,
I wanna have them nightmares forever,
Seated on my writing table ever,
Call into action over.

It started with a crawl,
Over the couldn't walk for a bowl,
Flying over the sky no, like an owl,
Developed in sense and mind benz,
Mind blowing, hundreds on my side since.

Credibility is my last,
I don't pray competency lust,
Walking over the fields, a blast,
Giving them lats to my very first,
I love being able, the best.

Every sip of my piece, is not sour,
They claim I walk to them and pour,
Light and sweet on them, like sifted flour,
Flourishing and blossoming, not blur,
My work, grows dayly over the floor,
I write and dine on the bar.

A dream, fulfilled with completeness,
As discussed and said by her, prophetess,
After they called me selfish, and full of selflessness,
I dance, I claim all with creativity, oh yes,
Bragging, no, giving what I do best, of course,
A wake on vacation course.