"My Poetry and Spoken Words..." is basically a blog-spot meant to showcase some 'Freestyle Cypher,Spoken Words and Poems' written by Fecko a.k.a Raplogic.
POEMS/SPOKEN WORDS/FREESTYLE CYPHER:
Fresstyle Cypher (excerpt for never ending 9ja cypha - Africanhiphop.com)
my lines are never ending like this naija cypha
so watch me hit back this thread with more tite barz
have u ever seen Westlife engrossed in a freestyle cypher?
well, such a fictitious scenario beggars discription like my eight bar
eight bar? hmmh...just keep reading in between the lines if you wanna dig me
now shit looks like a mexican soap opera~cos i guess y'all are quite intrigued
similar to my quest in unravelling the truth about my real self
why? cos am a hiphop mutant who married the game but funny enough am not gay 
f*ck my age ~ i still 9yne teens (nineteen years old ~ 9mm/murder)
with my bullet-like barz, making their mums scream
cos like mariam makeba, another soul just got deceased
from a hip-hop world where only real headz speak
i feel am begining to get more interesting, just like summarizing this thread
oakes' be talkin about jamaicans ~ but how come we got more dread?
hip-hop neckz who fall in here can attest to the wrath they incure from hip-hop headz
like a popular naija radio jingle says ~ if e no be panadol, then e no be panadol
in other words, bring on the real shit
or do we look like folks recording a club hit?
anyway, i'mma draw the curtains at this point
hold up, lemme take a bow like i just finished performing a rock joint
i'm just fading out on this never ending naija cypher~i aint gone
i'll be back like christmans~so fake katz be warned!!!!
N:B EIGHT BAR - (why? cos am a hiphop mutant who married the game but funny enough am not gay
Bloods In, Bloods Out, Red walls scared the geckos
Sick shit, Oakes, permit me connect the dots, Now let's go!
Gangsta cypha up in here, our lines exude terror
Like when u hear the word "Crip" or experience tremor
Lemme break it down - Community Revolution In Progress
That's what the word "CRIP" stands for my brothers 
If u aint blue, then u aint true
I aint sayin' am a Crip thug, don't miscontrue
My train of thoughts, am just droppin' da knowlegde
This shit is similar to cultism in college
And it originated from the streets of LA
Where dudes feel they're flyer than Kites (Kyt) or the British airways
And always, stay strapped to the steel
Every nigga from the 'Crip' is damn ready to kill
You can call me ur urine, but don't piss me off
The Aftermath? if u do, is somethin u can't think off
More scary than seeing a beast chew ur hearts out
Aint about the diction, watch me go all out
On this lyrical journey, with my fingers on the keyboard
Punching those evil metaphors - capable of sparking-off another world war
Some say am controversial, well I only keep it blunt
Subjecting katz to scrutiny, like it's a Talent hunt
No doubt, you're more gangsta than the devil, so get thee behind me 
Plus u still wouldn't dig me even if u rewind me
Why? am more complex than Calculus
And I sure love battling like Canibus
Though my previous post were mere spoken words
But shit was deeper than severe open cuts (wound)
It's like I and Nas share the same Street Dreams
Cos everything I'd wanna learn, see i already knew, peeps
Which explains why I've been schooling lame katz with carry-overs
Way before Beyonce Knowles even dreamt of marrying Hova.
I aint related to micho, but damn!! I got Thrilla
f*ck Tommy, homebouy am a ill figga (Hilfiger)
Tic Tac
"Tic Tac...Tic Tac...As the time clock ticks"
The sand hour glass on my table is almost filled
While I ignored it for many weeks
At the drop of every grain a child is borne
While some reminisce of loved-ones, long-gone
Who travelled absolutely with nothing to the great beyond
"He was once a philantropist whose heart could beat,
Now he thinks less of what to wear or eat..."
As he aimlessly roams the streets
Of a world whose cryptic existence remains a mystery
To so many earth-dwellers who can still breathe
"Tic Tac, Tic Tac...The Clock ticks"
Less concerned about, whether anybody notices it
It runs confidently at her own pace
Never waits for any creature during the race
Regardless of your wealth, fame or power
Hence, the wise makes judicious use of every hour
"Tic Tac, Tic Tac...The Clock ticks"
Hope you know what this means?
MY ENVIRONMENT...
Old folks puffin' em pipes under the shade
Well-fed thugs incising their backs with blade
Hip Hop heads roaming the streets with spray cans
Flaunting graffitti art skills on walls and packed vans
The cops invade the scene with heavy metals
Now one of 'em is gasping for breathe after nine PAPZ!!(Gunshot)
Sooner or later, the clinic is filled with military mindz
Waiting for a dawg to recuperate in no time
So they can go further to exude their violent state of mind
Before sh*t happens, an African brotha appears
Convincing his peers with his spoken word prowess
Partially, the zeal for vengeance dies down
Now souljaz are retreating back to base somewhere in town
Subsequently, the sickness begins to spread
From one alley to another, the mic becomes a tool for making bread
My environment is now infected with Hip Hop
Like a streetwalker living with HIV,cos she refused to ZIP UP
Glamour & Glitz (freeverse)
An euphoria, but still craved by many
Both infants and old aren't exempted
"Usually acknowledged by the virtue of its wealth,
Instead of being respected by the wealth of its virtue..."
Glistens like a displaced Nebula in far-away galaxy
Filled with charm or enchantment,
Causing an irresistible spectacle on the tube
With appearances that often fade instantaneously
Simply because of its phoney state or ingenuity
Mainly exuded by some proud eminent personalities
While making their long-speeches, often engulfed with ambiguity.
After leaving their footprints on the Red-carpet
The maid servant rushes quickly to clear the dust
While the wise and glamorous lad walks in;
Leaving an indelible inprint on the sands of time
As an epitone of true greatness and glamour
Embarking on the quest to redirect the steps:
Of a rather natural feeling gone astray.