Essence of Poetic Chelle

My thoughts flow like flames dancing in the air

They come to me in fragmented lines,

pieces of imagery in rhythmic designs

They are not fluid,

they do not ground me,

creating scenery and the framework

to orient my mind

I hear words like melodies waiting to be pieced together

to create an awkward tune

They penetrate without my permission

Poetry spills out of me like a purge

after emotional binging

I don’t remember asking God for purpose

but I was led here as if destiny was a location

on Google maps

And He whispered, “Your destination is on the left.”

I looked up and saw a bright light

with a microphone dangling beneath

And my words 

spoken between trembles 

were followed by snapping fingers and stomping feet