He's great, I try to make the poetry slam in SD whenever I can.
I bought his book on iTunes and its dope.
Yeah I think I got his No Gravity book
reason why I like the one I posted so much, because thats how I write love poetry. and how I deliever it when I do. Mine is not so straightforward it usually has a metaphor, play on words, layerdness or something
plus the message is something poets like me can relate to
Fam!!! 
Miles is currently my favorite poet... and Alysia been official since 'That Girl'
Miles is currently my favorite poet... and Alysia been official since 'That Girl'
Lord_nikon
Veteran
" If you hit a man, in time his wounds will heal. If you steal from a man, you can replace what you've stolen. But always cross in the green, never in between. Because the honorable Elijah Muhammed Ali floats like a butterfly and stings like a bee. And always remember my brother, one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish, knick knack, paddy whack, give a dog a bone, two thousand, zero, zero, party, oops! Out of time, my bacon smellin' fine"
Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.
I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he’d call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,
Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices?
Robert Hayden "Those Winter Sundays"
I would post his poem Middle Passage but that might be to long.
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.
I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he’d call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,
Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices?
Robert Hayden "Those Winter Sundays"
I would post his poem Middle Passage but that might be to long.
A Poison Tree
I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine.
And he knew that it was mine,
And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
William Blake
I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine.
And he knew that it was mine,
And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
William Blake