Why? Why can’t you see? Don’t you see the pain that you are causing me?
Your existence is take, and all I’ve ever done is give,
But still you want more, maybe you don’t want me to live.
So my blood and my body are the last gift, you win.
With my death I have ensured your life, you still harvest my husk, some of you do so and cry.
These claim wrongdoing but harvest still the same, lives born of death and perpetuate the pain.
When my shell is through who will help you?
You’ve never helped each other, only taken, only suffered.
So I cry for you children and I cry for the land and I cry for my oceans that will one day be sand.
These my organs and my bones, even a perfect death cannot atone
For what you have done to me my sons, my daughters, my familiars, my children, my failures .
Why? Why can’t you see?
I guess I forgot to tell you that compassion, understanding, and forgiveness were free,
And that I set aside for you, but you would rather it be me,
Me to have it all so you don’t have to forgive yourself, or others, because you know I have plenty on the shelf
So you do what you please without worry or care,
Hoping that “I’m sorry” is enough and “that’s that so there”
But there’s only so much left soon it will be all gone
Then no more safety net, only swan dives and songs,
And you never learned, so we are all to burn,
And I am sorry for not being enough to take care of you when life is rough
But you’re not listening anyway, no matter how I cry in pain,
Because your life is more important,
And my death was just in vain.
Arrogance fuels my
Boastfulness. It derives from my
Charismatic nature. Its something I'm yet to
Decipher, but it’s along the lines of me being an
For years people
Gravitated to my
Humbly arrogant manner.
Isolated for 23 hours in
Jail cells help me gain
Knowledge of self.
Learning my characteristics as well as
My strengths and weaknesses. As well as the
Negative AND positive traits.
Perceive themselves as flawless until those flaws are
Reading psychology books and
Self help books, I understood why my
Trials and tribulations where so heinous. My
Universe was imbalanced. Invested the
Valuable time, putting in the
Work, my spirit deserved.
X'ing out the
Years I brought pain to those who didn't. I'm in my
Zone. Ready to take the world by storm when I go home!!
I SIT ALONE IN A FOUR CORNERED ROOM STARING AT CANDLES, CAMOUFLAGE BY THE SHADOWS OF DARKNESS BECAUSE WHAT I SUBCONSCIOUSLY FEAR IS THE LIGHT THAT'S WHAT I CAN'T HANDLE. THE LIGHT IT REPRESENTS TRUTH, AND I’VE BEEN IN DENIAL SO LONG I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT THE TRUTH DO. IT FEELS AS THOUGH IT'S RAINING INSIDE MY HOUSE OR MY BRAIN IS FRIED, IT COULD BE THAT THE LIGHT TRUTH HAS GOTTEN TO ME SO MUCH THAT THE HOUSE IS ME CRYING INSIDE,I'VE DONE THINGS IN THE NAME OF FOOLISH PRIDE, STOLE ROBBED ATTEMPTED TO KILL AND TOLD BIG LIES, PUFFED CIGARETTES DIPPED IN PHAMALDAHYDE, SO THESE PERKS XANNIES AND OXYS ONLY EASE THE PAIN WHEN I CHANGE FROM DR.JEKYLL INTO MR.HYDE.
Just because the shoes are off
And all is at a standstill
And whispers can be heard for many miles
In the silence,
Doesn’t mean the race is over.
I am from building blocks and k-nex ferris wheels
From happy times at Christmas followed by quiet nights alone
From misunderstood by classmates and teachers, and sad looks upon the world
From music in the air, and books in trees
From the water in the lake, from smoke in the breeze
From time spent and time lost, from can’t remember when
From life in its beginning, from life when it comes to an end
I am a poetic companion and a companion poetic, for not only do I encourage, inspire, and embrace creativity, I also have lived a life of poetry. Indispensable experiences perfectly imperfect to culminate into this monolith of worth who stands in place to brace you and yours, in your poetic life on these unforgiving shores. For no one should forever be alone, whether in the light or the dark, we all will find a home and in those times of joy or pain, a story is written, it just doesn’t always make it to the page. So this monolith will watch and pick you up when you’re unsure, And help you find your poetry so you may share it with the world. For poetry is not just words on a page it’s a statue, A sonnet, A moving dance on the stage, it’s the tears on your face and the smile in your heart in these times when you are alone seeking comfort in the dark and as a companion I will watch over you to say that I am proud and no one can stand in front of you. Just know that you must stand on your own one day not alone, but at our side for when one of us gives way, to that inevitable verse at the end of our song, so there will still be someone there to brace against, and be strong for the next poet unknown whom life been unfair, then your story you pass along so they know you’ve been there, as I will share mine with you when you need me to for I am a poetic companion and as a companion poetic I am here with you.
THE NEWS SAID THERE WERE ALL SHOES AND NO BODIES, THE YELLOW TAPE IN FRONT OF NED'S LOOK LIKE THEY ROPED OFF A TENNIS SHOE PARTY. I SIT HERE WITH MY BARE FEET, COULD ONE OF THESE PAIR OF SHOES FIT ME. NO I GET IT,THE STORES ARE TAPED OFF FROM THE SHOES BECAUSE EVERYONE IS DEAD AND THE SMELL OF THE SHOES DID IT!
He was a little black boy...
Infatuated with the likes of those who rapped and wrapped gold ropes around their necks and shot basketballs in nets.
He imitated his favorites
Standing in the mirror cyphering every lyric from the songs blasting thru his speakers.
Pretending he's in front of thousands, all cheering.
Witnessing a young king come to a league who set and broke records,
Everyday telling his mother he gone be on TV one day was like a broke record,
Inconsequential to the fact the he's going to be great because God put many obstacles in his way to prepare him.
To dare em
To Tempt em,
Taught him rules that will restrict him and later convict him
But convince him
That beating the odds isn't with a 357 a 9 or Mac 11.
Beating the odds is making it to 18, 21, or 25
Beating the odds is to survive
Becoming successful is to say you've arrived and everything you've learned has been applied!
That little black boy still believes
That little black boy still dreams
That little black boy still sees himself being the man he always told his mother he'd be because that little black boy has evolved
That lil black boy is,
Segregated and disillusioned, I stand alone in a crowd, secluded, unplugged by an uproar of mental backlash caused from the world Before time was recorded by the victors of wars who chose what the truth is for you. In too deep of a thought, I drowned, till I grass at a truth that pulled me down, deeper, through the layers of ether, and landed me on a lonely sure where only few have stood before, And there, from a lonely tree now all but withered and deceased, I plucked a morsel, that opened my eyes and ears and more, so now, back on the street, I see lies and listen to people talk in their sleep. Forever dreaming a dream of conquest to achieve a higher state of worth to a state that decides they’re worth based on how well they fit into its schemes, and to this I no longer dream. I am awakened, into you who run this carnal dimension, I say that your plans to mire me In your unwashed masses has failed. I am free, and no longer a cog in your machine, and although I am alone, I promise when I find a monkey bone Big enough to wrench up your plans, I will. Then you can sit alone counting all of your bits till it’s time to collect and you find that your cup just won’t fill, and you’re left with a mouth full of sand, that pours and pours til it surrounds you like land, And your body shrivels then from your outstretched hand is born a fruit that bears all you had planned so when another in need of clarity discovers your pittance of an island, they can take your plans from you and open their eyes and years to what your successor is trying to do. Then the cycle repeats till one after another the population of these released stand to war against the lies and deceit. Tied together by our isolation and ready to face a nation bound and determined to keep it that way using words like swords to cut the cords of nooses And borderlines to desegregate and wake up all those lost in the lies, to the truth, that most were tricked in their youth, into believing what their history book says is true without questioning and that it’s a chain reaction that goes back through the annals of religious and government practice. There’s no one left to blame for this sordid and twisted twisted game, started long ago by a name, lost in the first war over a belief that to this world there was nothing more than what one can hold. Searching for a precious gold and in the process of losing the gold worth saving, that being their soul. That is the sad and lonely truth that history will rarely teach, because acquisition and oppression is how they practice what they preach.