Excerpt from “To My Future Self: Poem Book 8”

What worth is greed?

When you only feed,

The mortal need,

To be more than a seed.

//Snap back that reed,

And play that sinful melody.

/Thought I was an OG.

Original Gangster,

Mobbing faster than some crocked bankster.

So I branded myself divine,

Thought I could pull off the mortal crime,

But all I got was quiet time.

Cause, like the cancer that is life,

which doesn’t see the malignance,

of shallow shit like pigments,

I called it no difference.

yet it couldn’t rid them,

of the stench of being simply cattle.

So I let loose to art like Orpheus,

And took hold the metamorphosis,

I thought She wrote,

a far better note, sounded like:


of tying the love that made men float;


Show them the arrogance they tote,

in thinking they were more real than she.

Then, she left he,

to walk through her herd,

And remember how to be.

Cause I was she,

and she was he.

/ now, in me being he.

I couldn’t care less if I’m heard,

Future's spurned,

Through time,

I held with wit but simple script,

To remember why I once wept,

And the times before he slept.

//life’s all the same:

Some fools play,

Some hypocrites talk,

Some liars scheme,

but I?

He just walks my walk.

Cause in the game,

of heaven or earth:

You win,

and then you fall,

For forgetting,

You are small,

So, all I thought was,

stand fucking tall.

Show your support

Clapping shows how much you appreciated James Rhule’s story.