Dear Rudolph, I heard you’re rich now
A real G would go for a spare magazine, but i’d say Go for Gold
Besides, you’ve killed enough already.
The Ruddapoet with the poetic rudder
Steering words in patterns of tingling rhymes
Our minds you’ve turned to a plain wall of display
Upon which fresco of your stringed words cast
If the pen than the sword is mightier
There were bones broken, blood stains and few slain
Skins flayed with words woven like delicate tapestry
At the battle’s end he rose, Primus Inter Pares
I knew his name before his face.
In unison they chant his praise.
I joined the march and sang with grace.
Rudolph the slam charm champ!
Rudolph the slam charm champ?
Didn’t wait after a kindly follow back.
Today he’s slam champ with a charm slap
I’m eager to follow back at another slight chance
In rounds of three on Transcorp’s hill
Scooped the bounty with skillful glee
Hail the champ with a red cap charm
Rudolph the imperial slam Champ!
Words crawled out of their refuge as if hypnotized
As he slew them with no mercy carting away the spoils
Standing tall like the Iroko he conquered
Even the belly of the sky rumbled his praise.
He’s shy of 6 in feet
But 7 couldn’t make his presence more unique
How many times beyond 8, edible dialogues of humility on repeat
After 9 no Cyril but the news read the opposite of defeat
Victory is sweetest when sour has been savored
You have been to the depth now you rise
I was there at the birth of victory but of conception i cannot tell
For certain though i know this is just the beginning
Out of many one emerged to grasp at prized laurel
Words and eyes outside the mold and feet that carried them
From the darkness light so bold the dusk could not touch them
One voice to break the silence and to the dawn lead them