Sam Cooke

I had a chance to change once, but I was too afraid to be…what you thought was or would be…the real me…I had a chance to change once, I remember when I looked in the mirror and ashamed of my own reflection, neglecting all that I knew to be true. I had a chance to change once…The boy in me was too shy to come out of his shell, holding onto whatever youth I had left, I tried to change, It just never made the change with me. I had a chance to change once…I rekindle the light of memory; I serenaded a melody, a symphony if you will, and prayed upon the nights I dreaded change, a change of life that I lost and would never dared or ever cared enough to look for, a change similar what Sam Cooke searched for. I digress more from the problem at hand…the chance within my clutches, the change I had as crutches. The same chance I had was the change I ran from, I dreamt for the two to meet, I waited patiently on the stoop of faith, but to no avail…I failed me once again…the chance I had at change…I wonder where I would be if they ever ran across one another, would I be CHANGE you can consider taking a CHANCE on!

Truth Of Lies

I raped the thought of losing grip on this here life, subsequently it thrills me to know it can kill me at the same time, I search the realm of earth to find myself worth and I found nothing in return. You search through books, texts, media sublets, and to find the meaning…where simply we lose touch of what was never within our grasps. I don’t need a picture, a verse, or scripture to define me, my meaning defines my meaning, my shines and sparks the plugs of the clueless mind, and I find peace in the noise I craft, I find my way in my maze I paved, you see you overstand me to understate my complexity.  I go beyond the truth of lies, I sore beyond the bird that flies, I levitate beyond the soul that dies, you see when the wind hums Mary and the darkness seems scary and meek, you see truth in the eyes of the night… you see ME!

Foreplay on Life

I used life for what it was, I used life for what it was to me…it was just time on a clock, it was just a tick and a tock. I would promenade with the surrogates of time; I would search every rhythm with a rhyme. In due time the clock would often say, stacking on my floors were the list of regrets that I have yet to forget. Yet I remember yesterday, I remember the simplest of things, I conjured up thoughts and consequences that brought me to this very state, I wait for the warning signs, I lust the irony of ignoring the ignorant and falling in love with the incompetent. I used this life for all that it has owed to me, the air I breathe, the food I digest, in jest I digress to the matter at hand, I disband my beliefs to the fallacies of our harsh realities. I used to love life, now I regret it, I used to lust life, now I am in love again.

Blessed

I am Blessed, YOU ARE BLESSED we are all blessed, I remember being stressed, growing tired of the test of life, hoping and praying that one day my graces will soon come to manifest.  I cry and say in jest I am, you are, we are blessed. On those lonely nights of solitude, I would cry, dare to say I would rather die than to relive another harsh disappointing day of culmination.  No words could ever salvage the times I have sulked in my own damp tears, the years went by, the days turned to hours, the hours told the same story to seconds, seconds it took for the last tear to drop before I resigned for the night. Yet I digress, for I am blessed, yes blessed to be alive, to be awake at such early wee hour of the morning, bless to grace the streets of such gumbo, humbled to hear a stomach grumble and fill with fruitful knowledge of wisdom. Yes I am, yes you ARE, and indeed we are all blessed. I would rather sleep during the hurricanes of life, than waste those sunny precious days over self-loathing, o’ the loathe you wear as a coat, drenched in your own emotion. Remember we are all blessed, we are blessed, and we are all blessed.

If I Wrote the Book On the Revolution!

If I wrote the book on the revolution, I would include the constitution, yes the constitution no optical illusion, I would rewrite history, I would contemplate the days of Malcolm before Farrakhan, Martin Luther Before he Became King.  The revolution goes beyond THE OBAMA ADMINISTRATION, something you see hardly, the revolution will never BE INVITED TO THE TEA PARTY. Yes If I wrote the book on the revolution, it would not end in conclusion, the revolution is endless… no solution to what we know as the resolution. Our forefathers would be yo’ daddy, my daddy, his daddy, the revolution settles for simple means in life. My word on the revolution tells the tale of stories that never ends with a moral cause,for the martyrs are our heroes. Gil Scott Heron Said the revolution will not be televised... but he never stated it could never be written…roots is our Bible, Books are our way for survival, they would be our means to know what the revolution is…we are the revolution…we are our democracy, we are the change we see, the revolution will be written in the universal language of the world….Peace.

SIMBA

I contemplated for days of how I would have my first talk with you, I was never able to get the words right.  Hoping you can see through the light, hoping that I am your first sight at life. what joy you will soon bring me, what jovial feeling of seeing a little replica of me, holding it high to heavens ceiling, so revealing that you look just like yo’ daddy. Watching your every move as you emulate every step that I take, I would explain to you that the risk is not in the choice, but the choices you make lies within the risk you take. My little man, my SIMBA, you are a sight for sore eyes, you would mean the absolute world to me, I would watch you sleep for hours, give you baby showers, but as I know we grow as spring flowers, I will soon have to loosen my grip and allow you to trip and learn from every fall. A man will be what a man will be, but it is the character that defines him, and it is that in fact what the people shall see.  But you are just an imagination of what will soon come my son; you will be the mistake I wish to never undo…for you will be my Simba, My Prince, My ripple reflection beyond the ponds of time…My Son, the Gift that was given unto me.

Honestly Speaking

I reside in the belly of honesty and honestly, lately my honesty bothers me. If the mind had a mental conversation with the heart, would it spill all that it thought of, would the heart have the heart to convey such heartache, would the mind find a way to be more mindful? How frivolous of me to question one’s mind and heart of honesty.  Do they come from the same place? is their anyway  they came to an agreement that they will never see eye to eye. To be brutally honest, I could never be honest enough, allowing me to trust something I never had the heart to, we tend to follow the minds of others in order to find our own, what an empty feeling it is to have, what a joy of ignorance, a bliss of nothingness, but honestly who gives a f*&k!

The Disease

The Disease

The Plague within me, has never been explained, the significance of my existence has always relied on the way others have handled me. I seem to be everywhere evil has settled. The thought that I was conjured on accident, I am indeed a catastrophe that is bound by action, the disease that is incurable, the pain oh' the immeasurable pain that I sustain it whelps my soul. I Was built to destroy the wall of your good health, and with all of my malice bred from Cain, I am my own worst enemy, there is no remedy for the disease inside me, no cure to transform my womb to pure... and I still have yet to realize the circumference of my existence.

Somber Rain

The sun can rise and set on moods that weep during those rainy, rainy days.

Raise the possibility of going through tumultuous times; we rise as the morning comes.

We set as the tides cover of up the shore of what is in store of things we never succumb to purchase.

I can foresee the future, I can foresee the unseen, and I forbid knowing the truth of what I never

would ever to want to discover in you.

Once Upon A Dream

Last night i dreamt...last night I awoke from a dream from which their was a point of no return. Last night I dreamed of flowers that grew from tears. Last night I wept...slept with my own sorrow, the affair lasted all but 10 mins, but an eternity it seemed I was embedded upon the breast of mourning. You see this dream, was merely just a mirage of some kind. I often see  montages of you...Your smile is what I miss, I remember every sense of you...ironic enough a dream I dreamt...I knew it would not be as real as the memory you left behind...soon after my last subconscious contemplation...I awake, and to my left is the sorrow and mourning you left behind.

deception

We inherit the reigns of deception, bound by the faulty truth that lays by you. River of streams never seem so rare...without a care in the world, who cares to be different, we dare the benevolent, we ignore the irrevelent, we stay in tune with what is prevalent.

Bittersweet Poetry

How do you know when the love is gone, is it the morning kiss you bliss for, is it in the evening affection you ever so vehemently conceal…far from the artificial, you’re losing the most important part of you when you fall in the deep, deep depth of despair they call LOVE…Why can’t you see me the same way you see yourself, why can’t I get the same treatment you give to yourself? Huh? Is it me? Isn’t this where you want to be…you are never without a response why start now…think of this as your fighting chance to finally romance something, those thoughts on escaping.  YOU ARE LEAVING ME ARENT YOU?! YEAH I can see it in your wandering eyes, no surprise tho! Mamma said you would be the first to go, not that it was timetable I was setting, but you had me steadily regretting every single moment spent, without a receipt to blanket the pain, I remain here motionless, heart steadily pounding, the room seems like its spinning yet, I am still as stone. You are there and I am here in the room, but oh so alone I feel…I remember we shared LOVE as our last name, now ALL that is left is shattered memories and broken picture frames. You left me a long time ago, I was just to simple, to naïve to just know, or was I too possessive to let you go. I must know, dammit it’s my right too! Who is it that stole your heart? Who is the reason that I am being lied to? you say “I never listened”, shit you never tried to. you stare in the eyes of your love and wonder for one last glance where did it journey off to…I chance the thought on how I would feel a year from now, having the ironic feeling of joy in in your pain, having pleasure in your misery, Nothing but pure happiness in your sorrow… But you and I both know…I WILL BE HERE...  to return tomorrow…bittersweet!

In The End

How I survived the times are beyond my own imagination, but the journey to get there speaks volumes in the end result.  I denounce to the fact of the inevitable, I speak volumes to the control of the unseen and withstand the trauma.

The sun rises and sets on the unfortunate and misunderstood.  We see more than we need to see, we react on the senses that are not prevalent to our being.

We will never become a ease with ourselves if we do not make it right with our environment to solidify our future. No calendar or higher power can save us on the fate of what is to come…

I may never fathom the true meaning of the end, but to get there is a question for the curious to debate to ask… Do you think of the end as the exclamation point, the dash in between the life you were given to the life that has been taken away…

Think beyond the end…think about…

Why Remember?

Do we remember for the heartache it caused us? Do we remember for the inner patriot within us?
Should we remember where we were for that moment we heard the first tower fell...(Moment of silence). I remember do I dare to forget, sure I do, I reckon the whole ordeal, I remember my principal coming into my morning english class and telling us that "We are under attack!" There I sat in my chair thinking this was something out of a jerry bruckheimer film. Trying to formulate scenes in my head from independence day, wondering what Will Smith would do in a situation like this, as cynical as the scene presented itself to me and my classmates, I thought to myself what will happen next? Soon after that announcement was made, another was presented to us that another tower had been hit and had fallen as well...(Moment of silence). I Remember the assembly in school, being broken up into designated zip codes, the threat of having to walk home, because New York City as we knew it was under attack! I remember coming home, watching the news and falling asleep, hoping to awake and it be all a dream I had dreamt. But to no avail, it was about as real as anything as I ever imagine, this terrible attack will forever impact us, our children and our childrens children. I scar it left on us all, the paranoid state of urgency to avenge such treachous act of terror. I remember...I remember...I REMEMBER. You see such patriotism should never have to show its face, due to such acts on America. I can't say I grew  more of a patriot heart and it rekindled a starlight of love for America, but I can say that it taught me how to never take LIFE for granted EVER AGAIN! Im not stating we should FORGET ALL TOGETHER, BUT let allow those who perished on that dreadful tuesday, a time to rest. Should we continue this tradition, hold the merit and value on Pearl Harbor, Oklahoma City or The 16 Street Baptist Church that was Bombed during a sunday service on September 15th 1963, killing four little girls. Don't LOSE the message that one is more significant than the other, but merely understand...Lets allow history be just what it is...History...Yes I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER EVERY DETAIL OF THAT DAY...And that is why i choose to forget.

In Loving Memory of darryl "Pop" McKinney

The Greatest Poem Never Written

The Greatest Poem Ever Written

Look in the mirror; take a glimpse of your reflection

Is it your eyes that disguises you, is it your complexion that complexes you?

Do you recognize that person that stares right back at you?

Do you see any truth in what you explore, is too scared to show itself? is it the pride inside you?

You see, who you are who you are, what you think is who you will subconsciously become.

Don’t ever run from the inevitable; it is the shadow of your personality.

Would you dare to be a square in a room full of circles?

Mirrors are the biggest deceivers, making us believers in everything we THINK we see outside on the inside.

There is no mirror made that reflects our inner beauty, bring down your wall of shame,

Look around… there is no one to blame.

Release your true beliefs, let go of your inhibitions, go through life lessons.

Have humility in your fame; make your confidence your claim.

And on that morning of reckoning as you look into the mirror, your inner reflection will reveal a story that was never told.

Confucius

Never thought confusion had a face to show,

Never knew there maturation was solely dependent upon my belief.

Never imagined I would have complications of eradicating such a plague.

So rare to give birth to a child in a world full of mass confusion,

A hereditary trait straight from the genes of my contemplations, I created such a monster

Of demonstrative complexities.  So ironic I stand in the rain of sunshine, I melt in the cold mints of winter.

Mass confusion is more than just a mental illusion, a minds random façade if you will.

Confusion you thrilled me, instilled in me education I never thought I would be able to learn and regurgitate to the minds of the mindless.  Confusion your misconception parallels to the moth by the fire.

I am left befuddled in a dark emotion of confusion…

Remote of Life

Press play on the remote of life... Press pause on the surreal reality. Allow the precious times to play in slow motion, nevermind  fastforward. Rewind if you will, feel free to just BE in the now forever. you may live for tomorrow, but LOVE for today...press play and live for everyday...for the rest of your life!

Believe in me

Believe in me as you trust in tomorrow...you say im a dreamer...I live in my thoughts. The disdain feeling of never breathing, teething thru the truthful fruit. I cry at the sun, knowing it will leave and to be returned again to mother natures bosom... Send for me in the evening. O' speak of me as the midnight breeze passes your knees as you cascade thru the sandy floor...believe in me, as i believe you will soon return to me...