A poet's language (Driving Ms. Daisy)

He shouts Road trip Road trip, heated seats warms, and the sounds of our seat belts clicks. He looks in the rearview, hoping to get a clear view, car starts to go in reverse, he backs up and hits a pot hole, car starts making noises, he ask do you hear too? No need to panic, she says I know a good mechanic, there's a 2 minute oil change place up the road, and he'll fix the damage.. We pull into the shop, mechanic directs my stop, he asked me what happened and I told him my oil filter was rocked. He said ok that's understood, but who do you keep talking to because You're the only person in this car that I'm talking to. I said I'm driving Ms. Daisy, and if your patient with the lady that you're into y'all can have some special relations. I told him that we think alike so there is no need for her to always be present when I can always feel her presence, she stays in my mind like some thoughts from the heavens. Her thoughts keep me hard, I stay with pills of Verbagra and Nounagra to protect me in this car, as long as I can feel her, my thoughts will never go soft. See the poet's language is spoken without saying, knowing what I'm thinking about already before I even say it. Dictionaries can't even relate to us, our uncapped wordplay is very sacred to us, we don't believe in limitations that man placed on us, we believe in infinite ability because that's what Yah told us. Steering into her thoughts while shifting her gears, hitting the turn signal right because I know once again we're thinking alike. I know that her Most important documents are kept in her glove compartment, that's just a little slang for what you might call a love compartment. We make many words, we make nouns, we create verbs and slurs. We have our own tongue at home and that's considered dangerous, we broke all the rules to the game, that's just a poet's language. King Qadar Dwon'