Essential Mortal

Step into a world of eternal artistry with E. Mortal Poetry. 🌍✨ Explore profound insights into love, relationships, and self-awareness, all through the lens of timeless poetic expression.

🌐 Visit emortalpoetry.com to embark on a transformative journey where human connection finds its voice.

Discover the essence of what it means to be eternal today!

I didn’t just age—
I arrived.
Marched through 47 like a mission,
boots gold, back low, knees high—
but never bowed.

A soldier’s adventure built my spine.
A father’s pride softened my tone.
Manhood molded by both war and wisdom—
not just what I survived,
but what I chose to become in the process.

These years?
They weren’t just counted.
They were earned.

Every mile divine—
even when the map looked like chaos.
Every smile tactical—
proof I could still find joy
in the middle of the battlefield.

I carry losses like lanterns.
Turn scars into strategy.
And I laugh—not because life’s been easy,
but because I know I’m still the answer
to prayers I haven’t prayed yet.

So here’s to 47—
not just a year,
but a checkpoint on the way to my own legend.

Title: Divine Miles & Tactical Smiles

By:

📷:

is at it again, and the card is stacked with powerhouse poets. We're cooking, so come get you a poetic buffet of wordplay! Click the link in the bio and show yp cause we showing out!

Old stage, new flames! I’m taking the stage in May and it’s and it’s gonna be a phenomenal experience. Support me by clicking the link in my bio and grabbing a ticket. Tell a friend to tell a friend and bring a friend with you!

I don’t know if I’m a real sneakerhead.
More function over form —
but I’ll take any little bit I can just to sneak ahead,

’cause this arms race to launch style and comfort
into the upper stratosphere
done had more bad launches than NASA.
Houston been having problems,
and they ain’t at mission control —
So it’s been a journey trying to solve ’em.

Finally cracked the code,
found the right combination to set my narrow feet free —
after four decades of paying hidden fees,
overcharged for styles that hammered toes,
shocked backs, and broke knees.

Pain I never signed up for —
science ain’t get a vote when ballots were cast for what’s trending.

We crowned drip over dignity,
worshiped hype over health.

But me?
I’m just a lone wolf,
J walking in elevens and thirteens,
stuck in retro mode with my sneaks —
sometimes you gotta go back to the future
just to set the present free.

Now all I rock is dunks and Js —
but not for style,
not for the culture.

It’s all about me —
my silent rebellion,
my fight to get my function back—
after bad form assaulted me.

Title: Sneak Ahead

By: Me

📸:

She sent a message into the universe,
“Dear Future Husband, come get me.”

And when I read the message…
I paused mid-scroll,
heart caught in my throat—
like her words had hands,
like her soul had GPS.
Like maybe…
just maybe…
she was talking to me.

But timing is a petty god—
sometimes late,
sometimes early,
never convenient.

Was I ready to find
the kind of woman
who knew how to ask the cosmos
for what she wanted?

So I took a character inventory
and a soul inspection—
ran a full audit on my intentions,
strictly for quality control purposes.

But here’s the twist—
she wasn’t asking to be rescued.
She was calling herself home,
reclaiming the pieces
she’d given to unworthy hands.

She wrote the message
as a mirror, not a map.
A declaration,
not a dispatch.

She wasn’t waiting to be chosen—
she was remembering
that she already was.

And maybe, just maybe,
if I kept becoming
instead of performing,
I’d cross paths with one
who deserves my light—
without mistaking it for a spotlight.

So now,
I write my own letters to the universe—
not to chase love,
but to align with it.
To make sure when destiny delivers,
I’m not too distracted
or too damaged
to answer the door
with both hands open
and nothing hidden behind my back.

Title: Becoming the Answer

Muse:

My take on the “If poetry had a scent” by Masterpiecepoet

Shout out to @masterpiecepoet for this awesome prompt. And since this is a challenge I'm gonna send it down the line to @natesr_improv @sincerelyyours_poetry @jeronimotatt @talkthattalk_rarity @kryphtic @officialljhamilton #whatsurvivalsmellslike #ifmypoetryhadascentchallenge

PEOPLE
OF
EXTRAORDINARY
TALENT
Are either supremely disciplined
or get by despite bad habits.
But either way,
they build brilliance out of bruises
and make magic out of missteps.

Some are human metronomes—
heartbeat synced to a calendar,
craft honed like a blade in a dojo.
Their genius lives in journals,
in color-coded cues
and 5AM alarms that ring like gospel.

Others move like jazz—
offbeat and out of order,
but somehow,
they still land on the one.
They forget deadlines,
but remember the feeling
of a line that makes a crowd go silent.

They write masterpieces on coffee-stained napkins,
build empires out of undone checklists,
and pull poems from potholes in their path.

These are the architects of awe—
some with blueprints,
some with broken crayons
and nothing but vision.
They don’t always walk straight,
but they never stop moving.

You’ll find them:
in the booth,
on the canvas,
behind the curtain,
in the chaos of a cluttered room
where brilliance blooms like weeds
through concrete discipline or reckless grace.

Because talent ain’t just a gift—
it’s a gamble.
And the payout comes
to those who either bet on habits
or hustle through havoc.

So whether they color inside the lines
or redraw the lines completely—
the truth remains:

Extraordinary isn’t neat.
It’s necessary.
And it never asks for permission.

Title: Genius Ain't Neat

A poetic mission of timeless wisdom, love, and self-awareness.

A love saturated day
made me wanna call your name
But I stayed in my lane because
I didn’t wanna wish on a falling star
I guess I didn’t wanna fall from afar
Because from a distance, I want to
dissolve the dissonance of failing to create one out of two
Every inhale is an expedition for the
intangible elements of you

My muse, my beloved, my truth
Cursed to rehearse the reality that comes with the absence of you
Damn I want you
Damned by the want of you
Damned to do everything that comes to mind as I respect how you stated
your preference in truth
Damned by the high of you
Nothing comes close to a dose of the dope, that is you

It’s impossible to cope when
withdrawal is the co in the kain
It’s hard to cope when the co is
in vain
Because the series of attempts made
didn’t change this singular existence into a co that could be framed
A story that could be sang
A ballad of beauty from the
opportunity of an organic exchange
This cocaina been in my system since her voice first got me high off
her name
And this poem is the chalk line left
when I fell over the over fault line and died to the mundane

Title: Love, Damn
By:
Muse:

I’m looking forward to a dynamic exchange of thoughts and best practices with this well curated panel of diverse individuals.

Get ready for an afternoon of candid conversation, thought-provoking interaction, and raw honesty. This in-person event will feature The TRUTH Squad; five mature-minded men committed to sharing the truth as it relates to dating, relationships, marriage, and those thoughts and feelings we rarely discuss openly

Link is in my bio!