I find myself lost in my grandpa's recipes since I was young and spoken word became the song that was sung when the oven rung loudly because a Kake was done, I just want him to be proud of me. I bake with the words of poets streaming from my heart into the pan like from the hand of Maya Angelou and Edgar Allen Poe whom taught me how to Rise through the dark sounds of "The Raven" while I'm leaving you craving for Poetik Kakes. I ponder "The Road Not Taken," by Robert Frost as I frost and decorate helping those commemorate their special events. I start to ego trip with Nikki Giovanni while Poetik Kakes hum a sweet a harmony like that of Langston Hughes but my dream isn't deferred more like what's preferred by the masses. The counterpart to putting words in a poetry flow is mixing sweets in a bowl to sweet we your soul. So "Before I Say I Do," and marry a "Black Man" I want to give God "The Glory" Hit "About Kake" to learn the rest of my story...