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Thursday, December 13, 2012

The itch


(The itch)
The itch ain't that a bitch... The scar that left me with 10 stitches... The memory that left cherry kool aid stains... I cant be this obsolete where are my trends? My hash tags? My friends? My likes? So ever so contrite... I derive from self esteem issues...I smoke cause it makes my memory HAZEy... I drink cause it gives me SOUTHERN COMFORT... I found a dream in a bottle and hope in a blunt... I stunt off tricks from my own trade to make you believe in Make believe...the words I spew is necessary for truth... Cause this itch is a motherfucker!


The Wait for Hunger FREE VERSE POETRY


                                                          (Overstatement)
I teach peace thru action... You teach revenge thru reaction...I can't teach you how to BE... But I can show you how to BE! I can mold the truth in wet paint...working with "you is and you ain'ts". Pleading for mercy of what hurts me...personally I'm too in tune with myself, Need to exfoliate my bare skin I hide in. I reside in the guys who guided the 3 wise men...I'm such a prefix of previous occurrence and in case you need some reassurance...I can only assure you death and pain but I can reassure the sun will soon rise after it rains... I soon hope you will overstand my plea... That life is lived  thru the seasons... And the very reasons that we are here are to see the SUN rise and FALL...WHETHER the COLD chills of past due bills and struggle that SPRING UPON faith into those who believe otherwise... Word from the wise Be conscience... Because you can't con-science! 

                                                           (Overstatement)

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Life in Gray and Black

Life in Gray and Black


Imagine if life was in fact fifty shades grayer, imagine me as a constant reminder of what color used to look like. In sight of my plight i write to escape my own true colors.  I walk a very thin line of the color blind, and behind every WHITE lie, hides a DARK truth.  Yet its blasphemy to ask of thee, thoughts not of man... But it is indeed man who etched in stone there throne of crowns, life without color... Remains to be seen as a LIFE without fear!

Sunday, November 25, 2012

JoeyChandlerRoss


JoeyChandlerRoss
What makes friends so temporary? Is it the cold chill they give off like an afternoon January? Could it be the smiles they wear for miles on in, pleading for you to join in on there masquerade. I act dumb but to my own stupidity I was type casted as such unintelligible, incoherent being. Friends are a rarity, are they not? I feel obliged to speak for those who think in such doubt but all to hesitant to speak out... I release such frustration cause its more like a plague of what it really means to be...befriended... I wish to mend broken dreams, I hope set pride on its ear and allow him to hear my pulse for a change. I beg for change... As the homeless do... Hoping for a dollar in exchange... My memory
though lived and spoken in jest, they could never be refreshed, they can never be fixed or hacked or repaired... Or any other conceivable techy connotation. You ruined the word friend... And the meaning behind it... I gave you hints on its whereabouts...you just could never find it. I pray that GOD forgives me for my non forgiving heart... F.R.I.E.N.D.S. are temporary...and you played your part!

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Personal Legend by Ko-Lition

Personal Legend by Ko-Lition

MADDrapperSocietyClown


The sex crazed, hyper active, criminal minded youth in genocide, run and hide the Zimmerman’s and Romney’s, but Stay Calm and tread softly! The price maybe cheap but the consequence is costly. The streets captured me! "They the SAME ones who put me ON now dudes be tryin OFF me. Petrified Forest, where the "hood rats Hump for free without having to Bogart your riches (think about it). A place where the hunger for riches outweighs the appetite for knowledge! Why college you ask? The task is more modern in the time of warfare and the call of duty refuses to answer to the people! I walk on thin ice at least twice a day, chasing pavements, the concrete floors cluttered with dog shit! Teenagers age faster than than the old folks do, they stay true to colors more than they do to their own mothers, the Feds bug us, the cops drug us, the pastor hugs us, tells us to give our life to a god who only answers his phone on Sundays, someday it will all make sense, how can my circumstance define my consequence? How can we ask them to repent when we have yet to show them the way! going through mental withdrawals, cash out thoughts of frozen deposits, my credit is shot to shit, can't take out a loan for a home. We grow up poor knowing the ceiling is living payday to payday... But the revealing truth is... We are still poor, whether morally, spiritually, financially! Being raised to be the Men and Women we are not ready to be! The best part of this worse case scenario is the fact that we believe the false pretense and make sense of our ironical circumstance.  Society’s clown we make up our identity without realizing that we allowed them to make us this way! Societies clown...

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Troubled Man


28 Years Later (Troubled Man)

In the midst of this poem…I will pray for those whom I affected. I will pray for those whom I didn't have the courage to protect. I will pray for those whom I have yet found the pride to forgive! I imagine this poem would be taken as a blind man painting a picture of a lost child, but imagine a boy who takes advantage of such privilege of sight but chooses to live blindly, one who takes the brightness of the sun to remind him that he…is…alive. 28 years to this day, a boy was born to the world…momma says if it weren't for her miscarriage I wouldn't be here. You see she lost what would have been a boy, her lost joy, the one she never got to enjoy! You see then I came along November 3rd a gift my parents thought would never come to be…I vaguely remember my childhood…but the memories that do come to mind were the full house of children my mother and father help raise, all too often I would find empty cereal boxes on top of the refrigerator that always seemed to be covered in dried up corn oil. I remember my mother holding my hand as we would walk across the street...I remember…when I saw the world as candy land…ninja turtles were my thing back then…I barely survived my teenage years I spelled love…LUV not knowing the difference or meaning until later in life . not thinking of a wife that I would later marry…but when I do think of hearts that I have broken, residue of wounds of holes left in like old tokens…I think of you…I never understood the reason for my heart to commit such treason…you believed in what others couldn't understand…there I was a time where I fell in love with you…But I immediately denied the feeling…then I left you…I left you emotionally, not wanting to ever see you cry for me…but I did! I left you physically…literally mind, body and soul…but you remained there…  I stayed in fear…I wanted you near…I have you here now…what do I do…I reach out to YOU I  hug you…you say you feel nothing…anymore. Where do I go now…? After you… I thought…I would sought to find another you…how true to such journey I traveled to find another you…but to no avail…I could not. I realize I am not susceptible to change…I'm slowly rebuilding my remorse...allowing my nature to nurture me and my wisdom to break me free from Life’s temptations. Although my soul maybe translucent…my mind never strays from lucidity. My mind may be free…but I am chained to truth that I am refrained to speak from the heart…I AM BORN AGAIN.








Monday, October 29, 2012

The Morning After(Excerpt From First Non Poetic Novel) The Penis Diaries


The Morning After
The morning after sex it’s the best worst feeling that a man could have, although I couldn’t believe what I just done, she had to leave and there I stayed at the foot of the bed with lust and regrets in my head.  I stood up to shake off all sin and try to cleanse my face of remorse before I let the todays thoughts run its course on me. Thinking of how good she felt and how our time together was time based and I couldn’t even be awake to see her off, you see this situation gets more and more complex. Awaiting your call from the morning rise to the night fall, I go about my day in a mental cloud, hoping that somehow you would shoot me down. Last night brought something out of us, that neither one of us could trust.  We don’t cuddle after we make love…or to have you tell it, “made sex”. I can only talk to you when you call me.  I go about my day with thoughts of you, friends counsel doesn’t seem to register to me. I realized that I fell in hopeless love instead.
I got a phone call in mid-day, my homeboy Brandon, he called to check on last night and thought he could get me to spill whatever beans of last night’s happenings. But I couldn’t tell em’ the way she felt to me, how her body felt like the comfort of a cool but warm bed in the middle of a cold wintry night to me naw, I couldn’t let em know she has my nose wide open, hoping with every inhale I can intake the same air she breathes. So like any man of false pride and integrity I sugar coated.  “So how was that box last night bro”? Brandon asked, with a cavalier reply I said “It was ight, nothing too crazy, it was a nut!” As I was explaining to Brandon about my night, I felt so inadequate and distraught at myself, knowingly lying, but when a man is realizing he is telling a lie….we continue on with telling a lie. So caught up in a daze of last night and keeping up with a lie, I continue to drift into thoughts of last night and how she made me feel…the real thing it can’t be, love  never visited me ever, cause you can’t one night stand love.  As my boy Brandon was explaining to me his endeavors of last night I heard a sound bit on my iPhone, I looked at it,  and saw last night probably wasn’t at all gone to memory, here she is texting me,  although I’m fresh out of a relationship that lasted all but 9months, it felt as though I invested 9 years.  I saw last night’s message it stated “Thinking about you”, now these types of words are Sade’s symphony to a man’s ear, makes a man’s third leg stretch.




Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Cry GOODbye


I CRIED LIKE A BABY WHEN YOU LEFT, I sobbed by the window as my tears stained the pane.  The little boy in me never left you see, it simply enabled me to shield that man inside that I never was able to be. I wiped my eyes with same hand that waved you goodbye, I sighed without reply…why? I ask the air, but I received no answer to comply with my inquisition.  I thought of moments, those vivid moments where you would have your heart near, your ears close and your mind at ease. I remember Tissues those issues, O’ what sob story they would sing, the phone that steadily phone, O’ how I love the ring.  I sing your name, I scream your existence hoping that my foolish persistence brings you closer…the minutes you are away feels like years and the hours and my mind won’t let go of time. You are everything I wanted and everything I ever v needed. I feel depleted by the neglect although in retrospect I have neglected all that I have ever known to be true…you never walked away from me…I turned my back and walked away from you.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012


Save Me
Save me…save that old me, save me from that ghost of doubt or that shroud of mystery.
I thought of you once…twice over I contemplated clouds of doubt…but then you saved me…the purpose
of being worthless, the seams thru my holey soul that you sown up.
 Grown up in the spirit of the light, in the midst of time I found reason in my rhyme,
You saved me, plagued with sin, but soon to find found serenity from within.
 Bathed in my misfortune, no one to blame…in the fog I still saw a ray of light…in flight of the highest of
highs you saved me and I don’t know why…

Monday, September 24, 2012

deja vu


Déjà vu
You cried harmony and sing about it…you rap a song of devotion and you scream about it…you talk a good game…when will you be about it…act like me through your foggy scene and you will see the translucent figurine. You pray quiet so the demons won’t hear you… you prey on the weak so the strong will fear you! Things aint all what it seems now…you pray loud now…your quiet thoughts found its boisterous presence now…you react without acting…you have become…what you have Been since then…now time goes back again…you sin again…and again…you prey on the weak to keep them at bay…you say no choice…I say you ran out of chances…

Thursday, September 20, 2012

Close Strangers


Close Strangers
We have become strangers who once shared the same memories…we used to be friends that shared the same moments of glee. The raptured seemed to capture us in the midst of our trips and falls.
We fell in love and out of hate…while soon enough we were to fall in hate and out of LOVE. Mistakes we both seemed to make but only one of us seemed to learn from.  The pain we both endured…yes it hurt some. We waited for the perfect lighting to lead us out of dark stages…yet we both loved the light we couldn’t bare to share the same stage…
What once brought us together…now brings us apart; we emancipated all doubt of setting free our own independence from one another’s shackles.
Allow us to go back to a world where no one knows us as well anymore…the world we left together… where LIFE was our fornever and our WORLD was forever.
Our hearts we took for granted, our memories we left stranded…you understood, while I overstanded, I often see you in my dreams as a memory that I once knew, we walk parallel as strangers do in the day break and as we conjure up the spirit to allow our souls to meet once more…I whisper your name once more…no more.

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Farewell Surreal




I want to be done with the world, I want to be done with the world, I want to be done with this plague that plagues me.

I despise this world, I so vehemently do! You see this world of ours screams and shouts with clout, without shadow of a doubt, I am without shame I am without blame aren’t I?

This cold world never provides a coat for the needy child. Trying to be faithful in a faithless world, while enabling the enabler to disable my…emotions.

 I want a life of purity and surely it exists somewhere in the realms of this world, I proclaim to such being that this world I want to escape from, howls such haunting conundrums.

Living life through these life lines, the puzzle of how we ever got here, is it fair we think of such anomaly as congruent to life in actuality?

I want out of this world, I want to levitate into a more surreal world of scattered cotton clouds, surrounding my summer rain of tears, I want to live in world of lilies and daffodils, Billie Holiday winters, and have a Donnie Hathaway Christmas in the spring time…but is that too sublime?

Are these thoughts all too transcendent to be real? The rhythm in my speech has my dreams at a far cry, but at a close reach…this is why my voyage for today…will start tomorrow and will end in the near future…


Sunday, September 9, 2012

Fleetwood Mac


Fleetwood Mac

             As the day gradually fades… as the birds wings sway out of range…
We change.
 Whether the storm is great, the weather remains a constant…change.
We change.
We cry, we laugh as toddlers do at silly trances of strange…
We change.
I sit alone dwelling the town of my thoughts, wiping away the hurt that once left stains…
We change.
            My Pen in hand says to be disband your regard for memory and live as one time is meant to be…
We changed.


Tuesday, August 21, 2012

AND IT DIDNT STOP


And It Didn’t Stop

It was a rainy Monday morning and there I was sitting in the clinic…there I was thoughts in hand along with balled up tissues filled with dried up mucus sponged with damp tears, there I was thoughts of you, hopelessly wanting you to burst through those corridors and rescue me. Silly me to think of you as my hero, to think of you as my savior, although I swam in the lake of hatred for you, I often wanted to dry myself off in the wake of you knowing I am alive still in the quilt of your worry. Constant distant chatter I tend to shun as I would bums on trains exclaiming there melancholic tunes I dare not beat my feet to. Patiently waiting, my stomach feeling rubbish from anticipation. I would love to know your heart… My mind goes into a moon shine, where our moments of hot passion would be laughed upon, “it was all too soon to know what love was in a matter of minutes, but as the seconds drew me a vivid picture of our distant future, I saw you there…I saw us there.  (A)nd (I)t (D)idn’t (S)top there, you see TONY had my heart, he had my spirit, but all I seem to have for TONY was a good time and his clothes were back on before I could even turn my shower nob from the freezing cold water…TONY was my best kept secret…TONY knew how to please me, and dismiss me at the same time…without blame I was left to shame TONY. With every thrust…I felt TONY, I felt you TONY…I LOVED YOU…I…LOVE…YOU tony. The pleasure…the immense pleasure I felt you…you inside me TONY…(A)nd(I)t(D)idn’t (S)top…”now there” you said, as you wiped the tears from my trembling cheek, you whisper ever so cavalier in my ear, it’s safe…it’s safe…the first time is always the worst time, the second reckons to be the best time…I cried for TONY that night…tears were not the only thing that was shed, the liquid roses spilled throughout the bed and left stains of passion I wish now I could wash away permanently…”Jermaine Crowell the doctor will see you now…” my heart sinks into my already knotted stomach…I sit nervous, thinking of no one but TONY... thinking of TONY’s smile, his musk of labor, his teeth down to his speech…I can’t hear the pantomime of words coming from the doctors mouth except I’m sorry Mr. Crowell you TESTED Positive for HIV…and all I could think about was TONY…(A)nd (I)t (D)idn’t (S)top…

                                                                                                                                                   




Atheist Breakfast



Religion is what you give…belief is what I search for…and that is what I have yet to find…truth is what I want…lies is what I have rested with….peace is at my door step…BUT THE KEY IS PATIENCE! The irony that you beg for in your savior, yet you favor the easy way out of pain…remember the blasphemy in asking GOD for favors while you labor in sin…search within your soul my child and you will find…it. You forgot all that was told…yet you remember all that was forgotten by me. You think without knowing…and proclaim you know everything there is to know...about nothing! Seek guidance in your most trivial moment of confusion…allow stubbornness to show its face…speak in the grace of the one you call holy and find me instead, rest in the bed of your sin, French kiss the taboo leaving the sweetest scent of regret on those lustful sheets. I have yet to believe in anything worth my regurgitation…I pray often…only for it to be replayed for the deaf. But I chuckle at your savior…as you would mine…

Monday, August 20, 2012

Anticipation


  The time where we shared the same pillows, to where we had the same idea of the different lives we lead. I rest my head on those sentiments my darling. Coming home never felt so wonderful and plentiful, the eventful sound of your keys, how childlike I feel in anticipation, I am counting the minutes, hours, seconds…I’m waiting in anticipation…I only long for moments like these where I realize what I have been searching, hoping for has my heart at a rapid palpitation. I am in anticipation, I pray to have moments like these daily, barely can I breathe when I am holding every breath for you…I am in anticipation… your haunting greeting, bathes my muddy soul…I am anticipating you in every way I can.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

MommaPoppaBlue


MommaPoppablue
I watched the world from a fourth floor back room project window...where roaches were distant cousins that lived under the kitchen sink, I grew from a fetus that came from the Scrotum of a man who believed in the civil rights movement, I replenished my thirst from the bosom of a woman who taught me to fear no man but God. But through those Hollow fragmented project walls, I heard all the dreams and becoming’s of nightmares, I felt all the pain endured, never to be cured by anything or anyone! I evolved from a place where two people made a two bedroom apartment a home for a family of 10. I am forever and will forever be in depth to the amount of wealth in love I received from these two people, I often caught the wrath of tough labor days, I went through the many dilemmas of a misunderstood adolescent living in the present household of old school habits. But through trial and error I succeed, and seceded from the nest you knew I would return to…for that…I thank you!
Love you MommaPoppa



Tuesday, July 24, 2012

The Social Media News Feed



You update your life so people can see the results of being self-conscious at its finest. But please do humor me in your daily bugle, let me know if you’re really angry right now...or how men ain't Shyt, or my personal favorite gym update... Indeed i can relate but i fail the need to regurgitate​e every five fucking minutes... But honestly I can really give a flying monkey Shyt! Looking for vindication​n is synonymous to notoriety in its most desperate form. Your money clips and those over exposed pics of mirror side booty photos...what are those? Are those exact photos really you? Is it? When the cameras off and the flash isn’t working who are you really? Are you that same mundane person who doesn't work but yet manages the duty of a phone bill, where the only smart thing is the phone you own... You can't be this dumb,forge​tting the place you came from. Tryna earn SENSE, child you need to gain some! The difference between living and learning is simple, you need to learn how to do one before the other, the question is which one would you chose to learn first?


Sunday, July 15, 2012

Imperfect Me (Excerpt from My Poetic Bronx Tale)


Imperfect Me

I am the imperfect man...

I am a walking contradiction

I bare no soul...no heart vibrates inside me

I am the imperfect man...

If I am drowning at sea, please do not save me

I am the imperfect man...

No chances in this game of LIFE...SORRY...but please omit sympathy for me...

I am the imperfect man...

I rather stand alone on these streets of mistakes...

I am the imperfect man...

But the truth is...I lost my way a long time ago, where I thought my perfections would lead me to your affection...an ability I have yet to master...this imperfect man...lost his way...I would love to find myself again, and keep whatever sense regained, contained in the bottle of my imperfections...

This imperfect man... Fell from the graces of you...


Monday, July 9, 2012

Ideology in Hypocrisy

Our ideology is hypocrisy...We praise all the wrong things in this wayward world. Our ideology is our hypocrisy, we acknowledge all that we can't see and expect those who see with tunnel  vision to observe...our ideology is hypocrisy...we live in a trivial world where breaking unlawful laws is wrong...we scream diallo!, we scream   !Still aint free yet We BEG for your Pardon...our ideology is hypocrisy...our modern day mythology... Nullifies the real world we live in, amongst kings and queens and chariots and knights...We set plight for the might of our will and for the thrill of our fears...ideology is hypocrisy!

Write To Make It Right!

"My Poetic Bronx Tale" Excerpt

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Death to our Sixth Sense

Death of Our Sixth Sense

The happening of truth comes from a source of experience that can be explained.​..manifest​ed. The trials of fallacies exclaims a belief that we are the actors in our actions which derives from our true self, though deep down I frown at the requiems of dreams I have in the wee hours of my nightmares​. The haunting feeling to me is that knowing I will never change. I will never subdue... I will never distinguis​h the similariti​es of me or the living portraits that reminds me of you. The happenings of Living... Breathing.​..Smelling​...Touchin​g...Hearin​g...all these lively qualities, the characteri​stics of what it is to dwell in the cellar of the lively... I will die in the arms of the dead wishing I was lifeless in the happenings of the happiness that I dread...bu​t all that is whispered in jest are just hymns of the wind that bellows below the coffins that sleep soundless in the earth rapture...​wait and listen and capture your sense before it is gone to waste...be gone with what is ignorant and keep all that is authentic above soil.

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Fast Food Interlude

Fast Food Interlude

They gave us all the Pain and we MUSTARD' it up while the rest
of world played KETCHUP...they LETTUCE rave in glee of our mediocrity...no CHEESE to spread the wealth or melt the two poverty and greed! Mislead our minds as segregated meat! We are all FUCKED up HAMBURGERS without the cheese!

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Fast Food Interlude

Fast Food Interlude

They gave us all the Pain and we MUSTARD' it up while the rest
of world played KETCHUP...they LETTUCE rave in glee of our mediocrity...no CHEESE to spread the wealth or melt the two...poverty and greed! Mislead our minds as segregated meat! We are all FUCKED up HAMBURGERS without the cheese!

Monday, June 4, 2012

Emotion of Hate From The Heart...Less

Drawn from the heart in the twilight of the dawn...
I realize I have a hidden hatred for others happiness, secluding myself from such emotion, I channel all thoughts front my own. Stone hinge heart; I draw such clever contrast with a lack of thought to channel such emotion I lack. While keeping such emotion in tact I react not knowing I am the emotion I lack I am that emotion I hate! Oh how sick I am of LOVE, Living Over Vague Emotion. I see the difference, I see I want out of such of such bondage, the two bonded by one man we can never see, I question such commitment!  For what was once white...with hints of promise is now BLACK and shades of malice. I chastise the fool who drools over such EMOTION...the very attribute we lack we find in hidden containers called hearts...for once upon a time I had one of those...

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Fools Emergency

In case of emergency set me free from all intelligence... For what makes sense to us... Only the fools, the ghouls think stupidity counters ignorance. I roam this sphere in fear,with halos of question marks, I etched my place in yesterday's HIStory, wondering if all HIS tall tales paints me in a vivid color of truth. But in case of an emergency please have the decency to deploy all coy thoughts from your mind. Leave behind the LOST and forget what was FOUND in the maze of time. Who dares to think...actually, our trademark is of the thoughtless who thinks of the complicated souls of tomorrow...the future keeps everything at a steady pace and the face of the present leaves the peasants at authority.

Monday, May 21, 2012

Isolated Psalms

Isolated psalm

Where do I scream when no one is around to hear my voice... Is it by choice that I have to make what shapes me into the belief of my own stupidity...In a malaise of blaze...my hatred runs ramped . I find solitude in my own confinement... So where do I go from here...the days are years and years are eternities, with a blink of an eye...I am no longer where I said I'd be...only these echoes bellows my existence. With persistence I show resistance to conformity...ejaculated  moments of my isolation, has both mind and heart racing in the marathon of time...I bolt...I gleeful we where no one can never find me...although i rest soundly in the hearts of many... I also reside in the winters of plenty... But to have much of nothing... Parallels the life of the empty... Then when will my cup draw half full?














 
Where do I scream when no one is around to hear my voice... Is it by choice that I have to make what shapes me into the belief of my own stupidity...In a malaise of blaze...my hatred runs ramped . I find solitude in my own confinement... So where do I go from here...the days are years and years are eternities, with a blink of an eye...I am no longer where I said I'd be...only these echoes bellows my existence. With persistence I show resistance to conformity...ejaculated  moments of my isolation, has both mind and heart racing in the marathon of time...I bolt...I gleeful we where no one can never find me...although i rest soundly in the hearts of many... I also reside in the winters of plenty... But to have much of nothing... Parallels the life of the empty... Then when will my cup draw half full?






Monday, May 14, 2012

The Want (Step 2 of Addiction)

The Want (Step 2 of Addiction)

I don’t want to want you…my heart hurts wanting you, my mind says it should fight off the temptation of a want…I never favored. But the want is there…it stares at us both salivating at the next time…we want. I know the want is a urge that is not of my control, but do I dare control a hunger for a lust…I cannot fathom your want being any lesser than I…in your slightest reply you sigh a sign of relief in jest of my want…But do I dare want something that is forbidden in the garden of sin. Challenging everything that I believe in, the only one thing that I know to be true…is this feeling of…the feeling of…my wanting haunting your mind, my want creeping into your veins, would you submit to such drug, I do sometimes struggle with such addiction…my want never rests, it never sleeps, it insomniac tendency evades rationality, it creates a mirage for my reality…I have succumbed to my fear of turning my want into something I love.
Write To Make It Right!

Wednesday, May 2, 2012



Black Male: Endangered Species Theory

                                     

It seems every 23 seconds a black male is harassed, shot or stabbed. The statistics are staggering...23 is the age they we rarely see... 21 seems to be scratching the surface... So yes on my 21 first birthday I grew nervous...didn't know if we were a hex the media flexed upon me... Naive me... The indigenous black man... We fall like trees in autumn now... The bibles we spiritually depend on can’t support this thought on life...Lord knows who imposes there will... If the meek inherits the earth... Who will the cowards feed on? Who will they follow...? The endangered species theory. We FOLLOW twitter we LIKE Facebook, look at the facts of life, we are in a changing state of technology that is leading us into a new wave of responsibility. Yet these Rapid advances of resources has been the catalyst to the demise of our endangered species. Yes our self-inflicted wounds, presumed theorist right, we are the reason for our extinction... The transparency of the truth has been molded and shaped to fit the evening news. So what do we tell young Jamal in junior high school...? Should we blanket the truth in order for him to realize his endangered youth? Should we allow him to figure it out for himself instead...Too many times we lead our troubled black youth down the path... Leaving them alone with no options... The truth has many faces and phases...



"The idea that we can keep incarcerating and keep incarcerating --pretty soon we're not going to have a young African-American male population in America. They're all going to be in prison or dead. One of the two." John Edwards, MTV political forum, September 27, 2007

The source speaks for itself or lack thereof...have we succumb to our own stupidity? By allowing other ignorant specimens become Picasso on our lives.



The portraits of opinions and conclusions that are drawn with invisible proof ... We think we know... Who is to say that John Edwards isn't right...? This is in fact the road that we are driving without any headlights or hazards.  The math tells us that every 30seconds a black male is getting arrested... I smirk at such facts in sarcasm, we continue to dig our own grave of stupidity...can you blame them... We sag out pants to show our ass... To the world... We degrade our women with synonyms of hatred and disrespect.  And we expect the media to respect us!?

  I remember when I was riding the number 6 train downtown. And an elderly woman eavesdropped to a book I was reading, it was Black Boy by Richard Wright, and this elderly white lady asked me did I know who and what I was reading. I replied “yes”,” a book”, sarcastically “and it's from a black author”, she looked at me with such confusion and befuddlement. I presume she was astonished for a teenager to be reading a book of such prevalence to black culture and language, my reply to her didn't fit her optical mode of curiosity.  As I look back on that moment, maybe I should have indulged in her faint curiosity, maybe I should have shot down her preconceived notion that most black male teenagers read only rap magazines, or just the sport sections prepared for eighth graders. I spare the disparaging stereotype and in retrospect maybe my short sarcastic reply was just enough to satisfy her ignorant taste buds.

 Nigger or Nigga... Is there any difference ... I have used both words a plethora of times. Does that make me ignorant? The more power that we give words... It will eventually take on its own meaning... Could be your meaning, his meaning, my meaning, her meaning, this can go on forever as long as we allow it to. Al sharpton believes other wises, so does Kwame Kilpatrick, we urge our youth to do our homework and revisit the times of civil rights Movement... I urge the feeble teenage mind to think critically just what the Move- Meant to US! Lynching’s, dogs biting the black off our asses... Our black woman raped...yes that very same black woman you degrade...Yes young Negro we all were once slaves, picking cotton till the sun left us... Picking cotton till our finger tips were thawed out rotten ... O lord what have we done for our lost black male to be so forsaken?

They Proclaimed to the incarcerated that there GEDS... Weren't Good Enough Degrees... So we settle for self-tutelage. Manuscripts written by MAN... Lord why are they misguided by the bling of a chain... Whips and chains are the ones to blame...is it Lil Wayne, rappers rapping about dreams that are merely unattainable unless there are a couple of stains in your record. Ironic enough these words they have different meanings now but are the same words that set us back hundreds of years...if the revolution were to hit today I would rather die in the arms of a coward than live to see our endangered species live vicariously through mirages of wealth...they say they want a revolution huh?

We roam in a world where we are judged on how fast we run, or how well we speak on the contrary of where we are from…we are subjugated to only receive GED’s…Athletic Scholarships, warrants, random pat downs, Uncle Sam’s hand me downs…and yet we have the audacity to walk with a smirk of work that amounts to worthless efforts to propel a stereotype that rises above…the police sirens we effortlessly dodge.

I often wonder the plight of our endangered species; we believe that we made it once we hit the big screens…no matter our flight to the top…it will never be enough. We set our precedence from which our history has in fact bestowed upon us. Do we ask to be great…? No we do not? Do we ask to be stereotyped…no we do not? Yes some of us may speak well…what you may call white talk…may just be talking with sense, what you may call struggle…we call it survival.  We live in different times and the masses steers us in a direction we have yet to discover on the globe. I wonder what tales will they tell of the Black Male when we are extinct…will they tell tales of a hero…will they tell tales of a revolution…we accomplished so much but have very little to show for our accolades…you see a Black Man’s GREAT…is a White Man’s Thursday…these are not words of prejudice or sour words…merely words reflecting portraits of our society. Our black men are in dire need of inspiration, we can’t allow our president to play the role of daddy to all young black men of America…

Wake up Black Male…you are dying…yes every day you are fading, further and further into oblivion…to nothingness…so thereon you will be a memory of nothingness…where only the mute can only speak of such atrocity…YOU… your last life line…through your trials and tribulations…through media humiliation’s…they were never able to cut off the two feet you stand on …be strong…be your own shoulder to lean on. How can they hold you back when you are walking against the wind! Then again how can they hold you back when you are the leader amongst MEN! Wake up Black MEN…Wake UP!





Write to make it right!




Thursday, April 19, 2012

FRIENDS AND DREAMS

The saying goes keep your friends close and your enemies closer... Who knows you most? Who knows your Scars...who peels your scabs... Who opens unhealed wounds...
Not much of a man yet... Feel lesser than... Can't stand to speak in this foggy mist of stress so I send in a text in jest. My emotions are dead but is soon resuscitated by my hatred.... I can't escape its translucent aura... Left with immoral rational thoughts to umbrella the hail of hurt. It works momentarily, but only to dwindle away off into the ominous night. The morning I awake to the same pain... I tried to flee...that friend in my thoughts it softly says “remember me?" I run...but where to?

Monday, April 9, 2012

Master of my Imperfections (interlude)

I am in the twilight of my life right now…I signal faith among the skies to rescue me…they don’t see my far cry for help…a distant voice says help yourself…but even in a world filled with mirrors, it’s difficult to see yourself…I close my eyes in the middle of darkness, learning how to be right…in my wrong. I sing the songs of righteous so well, I stomp my feet staying on beat, I charm some with the rhythm of my drum…I am perfectly imperfect. My resolution to my stupidity would only to try salvage my humility…tomorrow I will aim to for perfection…and I will probably be unsuccessful…A fool tries to be perfect, while the wise sharpens his/her imperfections.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

NEVERLEAVEME

NEVERLEAVEME

Never leave me…never conjure up the dream of you ever making my world a living nightmare. Scare away all doubt that may come about…
Never LEAVE ME…BLEED WITH ME AS WE SHARE the same flesh…shall we bathe in the same blood we shed we…we cried together we did… yes weep with me as if we share the same wound of hurt.

Never leave…don’t you dare…I plead for my forgiveness on these wounded bended knees…I will try till my last dying breath to ease your heart from aching…the scabs that are left from my deceit…I repeatedly tried to band aid all my flaws…yet for my all my faults I still tried to appease you…I down played just how much I need you…this contempt weighs heavy on my heart.

Never Leave me… for if you do…a Man a part I will be…forever it will rain in the land of my eyes…Never leave me… for the man you once knew…never left…he remains here and he  vows to never leave ever…ever…ever…again.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

MyPoeticHollyWoodHappyEnding

I fell in love with happy endings…I fell in love with happy endings…I almost forgot my beginning and my journey to get there. Everything seemed ever so climatic…I fell in love with the struggle…I was the protagonist; it rained quite often, no spaces in between the lines of false hope. Although in the scenes of travesty, I progressed through my lines, I rehearsed the heartache and succumb to my fate…I fell in love with the journey…I fell in love with the yearning, I fell in love while she burned for me, I fell in love while she purred for me…in her you see I saw promise…in her you see I felt solace… her assurance guides me, it allows me to propel my belief in a moral…in a moral I know nothing about, she has me at her beckon call…for I fell in love I did. Amidst her clouds and shrouds of heaven, I pretend for a moment and see her in my pleasant beginning, knowingly she may not be my forever in the end…Our happy ending may not be as the ones Disney depicts, or a drew Barrymore flick…the one I fell in love with is a bit more subtle…more true to form…the bumps on the road never lets up…you contemplated giving up all too often, we serenade each other with doubts,  allowing the Chellos and violins control our souls symphony…wondering mid climatic scene, “is this love really meant for me” …”am I worthy of such benediction?” my heart and mind have come in confliction with my fate…all of this sets up for the major let down in the end…a dramatic scene of desperation, that jolt to the last train leaving for Paris…or that last flight that you just might miss…you don’t…she is not there…as you sulk in anguish and letdown, you turn around…….only to hear someone faintly yell out your name…all the shame you once endured, it is now released and set free.  “How could this be?” you asked…the day you wrote and lived in your happy ending.

Write to Make it Right!








Monday, March 26, 2012

The Curious Thoughts Of Omar Michael McCray

The pitch and scene was black, no ventilation to breathe... Every day was night...time was timeless... But before that time I was secluded. Held in a one solitary position, their were psalms being sung, words upon words expressed past reflections of me... Fainted weeps and Mary crying reclining the thoughts of never seeing the light of day... Stain glass surrounds me, the choir sings... I am brought into a lifeless room. People then try to revive me... Succumbing to a bright light that impairs my vision. I see hands reaching out to me and distant voices becoming more and fainter. Upon my arrival to such a place...I was embraced with cold chills and ominous scents of rancid horror. I drift, I drift... I am drifting. I took that chance on that flight, my might got the best of me, and I saved a soul while risking my own... Drift farther to a time of adolescence i was care free. Times of blue skies… I left my yesterdays behind to gain focus on today for my future tomorrows. The sorrow of the past casts a spell on my aura... I forgot my path and was found in a lost world. In my younger memory, foggy drizzled thoughts...cascading amidst my faults and swimming in my triumphs, I develop slowly, covered up my drive with my mask of unconventional potential...I lost my one and only desire. Now as I lie in a bed that was once upon a time made for me, I cried for attention, I wailed for milk from the nectar of my mother's bosom. Drifting...drifting...I am awaiting my interpretation of reasoning...I see no color just shades of grey...the shades turn to black... Where vision once was...a baby is born...


Write To Make it Right!



Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Morning LOVE Awaken...

      I fell in LOVE this morning I did, I fell in a LOVE so deep I forgot that I was awake…yet I have awaken the sentiment you have bestowed upon me, it roars in glee, it screams in jovial unison. The way you make me feel, reels of a surreal sensation, captivated by my hearts jubilation. My interlude would prelude to your kiss…it would prelude to me loving every minute of ecstasy, with LOVE next to me why not savor the moment of this morning LOVE. I fell in love I did, the mood was sanguine… the morning sun rose in the glare of your hair and for a moment I lost sight…by the next blink of an eye… I was left with love by my side…I fell in LOVE I did…and for the rest of my life.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Remembering My Winter Wonderland


        In the winter of my dreams, I saw snowflakes, made snow angels in the sand of white thoughts. I    bathed in the frost of the night; I carried pedals to the shovel, muffled in this winter wonderland.  The aroma of your winter fresh soul, I take hold of you knowing that this winter of mine is far from over. I am sober, yet intoxicated by the wealth of toxic truth. My years may be plenty; my thoughts maybe empty…no Santa in the chimney… in my winter wonderland… by hand I make snowball dreams, I throw them against the window pane of shame. Where I shiver in a cold bliss, I dare to rekindle of flame for warmth and do away with this feeling of the calm cold air…I bid a farewell to thee; the coldest winter in my heart is now getting warmer as the spring trees begin to grow. I am remembering my forgotten winter wonderland.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Lost and Found Adolescence

The adolescent lost its way in search of answers to hot to hold... The adolescent has lost its way...having a  CHILD don't make you a MAN CHILD...babies  having babies for the sport of sex. Using protection, out of the question... The answer comes after your first ejaculation....yet you let lil Wayne tell you how to love and drake serenade you with somber melodies and thinking Shyt that's how I wanna live. Yet you recite their verses...with curses, thinking thats you in the studio... So far from reality, you forgot your way to the real world... Your home... Damn I hate to see the adolescent waste potential, the ignorance they perpetuate. The adolescent we patiently wait on you to mature, but maybe we want you to grow up too fast... But that's what you want right...yo pants hang low, moping around aimlessly with nowhere to go, you wait on line to for sneakers funded by the hard work of your parents... My youth where are you in this world... The echoes of lost songs in there deliverance...the adolescent please pick up your pants, take your hat off, watch your language... Respect your elders... Live like you have some sense kind of like a gentlemen so to speak... Ahh there you are my adolescent brother... There you are...

Monday, March 12, 2012

Pretty Girl Interlude

The pretty girl you see…is it all that you dream of? That bag you wear so well on the left wrist of your fate. I am damned to know the answer to the questions in your mind, like why are you so blind pretty girl? The world is yours don’t you know it…I’m sure you will be able to spend more time on your hair and nails, and if all else fails you have the rent money to subdue your desire, want and need… but who am I to judge you…for the pretty girl that you are, you still don’t know how far you are from imperfection. There is something about the glare in your stare…the pretty girl I see…you don’t allow that true inner beauty to show…believe me pretty girl, you are what you show, a figure full of beauty, but the inside of you is just too shy to show and its true…that pretty girl inside you…

               

Sunday, March 4, 2012

Random Sunday Brunch Conversation! (Excerpt From New Book) The Wait

    Ice coffee and a blueberry muffin… what are thoughts to an empty brain, what is crazy to a man that’s sane? What’s plaid to plain, who’s left to blame, shame or fame? The mundane yawn’s at the bore of excitement. The ignorant plagues its world with enlightenment, I am frightened in the daylight, and I am unruffled in the blackness. The opposite of me is empty; one word that is a synonymic of me is irony. I go above the noise and below the treble, the level in which I can manage and sustain…sanity.  The richness in your stature brings out the poorness in your values. Whatever miscues, you use as excuses, the abuse in your self afflicting wounds I assume you have felt such pain before. You restore what is familiar to you…I see through the glass that you hold as your mask…you wear with such amenity…I am in the same boat you..i don’t know my true self, I rely on random thoughts that define me at the moment, I wonder if this mind, body and soul could atone for once and let this random heart beat in peace...

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

The Friend ZONE

Ahhhhh im in the friend zone, Shyt if I woulda, coulda, shoulda...​I woulda been bone. Now im in this tight knit fit called the friend zone. I called you like three times, I'm texting you like crazy, and all you wanna talk about is how your ex drives you crazy!!! It's ironic thru my passes I give you...you give em back...ohh how fucking platonic! You right, maybe we should just be friends like musiq said, but I rather send you smoke signals keep you guessing while knowing the answer... This ain't no fling thing, and  if only you knew how on my nights alone, I phone you...to each is own, I'm trapped...​it's too late I'm in the friend zone. I would love to tell you I'm listening to your bickering, about how  "he always lying,then you start crying, damn I look up and its 5 o' Clock...in the morning...​"what you think I should do?" you ask..." my inner pixie says are you crazy DEAD HIS ASS!. and what I get from this deflated conversati​on...a hard dick and a wet dream yeah what a fucking sensation!  (Smh)...it seems as though my mind has warmed out its welcome, why thank you for not allowing me to further waste future time. But the Sade' in you got my mind straight trippin'...​Shyt this damn friend zone...got me hallucinat​ing, hoping you answer the phone when I call, you tellin me that i am the one you want...shyt thats all and not wishing it was him instead...but for now I guess I'll be that friend that you need to listen...n​aw but for real we cant me more than friends tho? Ohh I get it...you can't hear me... Im in the friend zone, zone, zone, zone, zone, zone...

Monday, February 27, 2012

The ART of Letting GO

The pride that I have within the stroke of my paint brush that I ever so gently I try, I try to illustrate a past that I can somehow conceive in my present. My mind fails to realize that... the heart that pounds in the left breast of me... kills my curiousity, it plagues my depleted emotional existence, I swim in the coldest, deepest of oceans trying to find that one potion of my one true self... letting go...searching for that one method of letting go...o the memories... That I have grown to be so fond of controls my rattled hand as I try to dismantle the handle in my every stroke... It seems that I am now drawn to inconceivable conclusions, I am lead by clouds of disillusions. But its only my own shroud of memory that allows me to forget what I have always failed to remember...I have drawn the only infallible conclusion...The art of letting go.

Write To Make It Right!

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Death to the Poet

Death to the Poet

On his deathbed, the poet force fed me all his knowledge, all his wisdom upon my waxed clogged ears.  We sat for hours talking, while he reminisced on times that were not prevalent to mine…he spoke of Langston Hughes, the muse in his melodic tone, he approached every conjured thought as if it were his last breath. I felt a sense of remorse in some sort…where was this poet’s family and friends…no wife no children to claim love that he so vehemently needed. All his thoughts and love were left on pages instead. His pain and anguish were embedded in his head, I asked hesitantly, what made you live the life of a hermit in such a peaceful accord. He hoarsely said, “Because nobody likes to hang with the poet”. The life I lead no one appreciates in English language, I use poetry as my translator for those who choose not to understand. “I premeditated my life on paper and lived it in my head”…he said. My hands holding face, as an eager toddler learning morning medleys. I couldn’t fathom the life he led; he then asked me a question sickly “what are your goals and values my son” (coughing). I could not reply, no answer I could invoke to satisfy his curiosity. The blasphemy I followed throughout my life steered the tears to fall from my mask I have worn throughout my process I called living. In the poets room, there were pictures of famous jazz musicians, Coltrane, Miles Davis, Dizzy (Gillespie), even pictures of contemporary artist like Marley and Tupac. He saw the amazement in my eyes as I looked around the room of pictures, the poet said, “you see those people, they all in some way were poets…some had a way of expressing their thoughts, Miles did it through a saxophone, if you listen well enough, you can hear the wales as it cried…I pictured myself in that very thought of song…listening to Take 5. Sitting on my grandmother’s stoop in Harlem between 136th street and Lenox Avenue, pan pan’s restaurant was right across the street at the time. I closed my eyes and saw grandma in my black vision in a Smokey montage. The poet then said, “you see my son everybody has a story, everyone has different ways to convey that story, everyone has a chance to impact the world my son…but not too many people can sustain such impact” the plethora of information I was getting from him, I thought for that moment why me?  (coughing) the poet asked me…” you are a poet, are you not. I stammer in my response…I, I, yes I am. He then proclaimed to me…”never let anyone tell you that you are not what you have already believed yourself to be”. Poetry died that night, leaving behind no widow to reminisce, no children to carry on a legacy; he only left behind thought…his words…and a poet. Poetry died that night…and it was revived shortly after.


Write to Make it Right!

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Sleeping With Jealousy

I tend to never sleep in the bed I have made, I often contemplate why I should, am I too ashamed to blame myself for what has occurred. Naw not exactly…I grow…acceptance to your past, as I hope you do mine, I can’t imagine the fact that you were once a virgin in someone else’s eyes, I can’t seem to shake you were once the dream of someone else, that you were once the apple in the pupil of another. Naw not selfish, maybe self-less, shameless even, naïve to the thought of my senseless, hapless jealous ego.  I never question my own path of trust, but to live is to trust and to love to lust. I cringe over the touches of another. I can’t lie to myself though for this world no one walks in a path of perfection. I proclaim my acceptance… I neglect my competence of sincerity. Never been to obsessive, cant possess what I never had a tight grip on in the first place, you look me in the face I and I believe everything I know to be true, or do I care to know at all.  All in all I know nothing…and anything worth knowing…is allowing it to be confessed…. not discovered. I guess my own perceptions…are the same conceptions you expect from me…I guess it’s the jealousy in me that makes me rest in the bed…I never made.

Love, Parks and Montages

Sparks fly, the wind dies…down, no one is around except you and me. The birds stopped chirping, the rain halts, a since of gratitude concludes the very feeling that I have escaped since the morning glory of knowing that I will be seeing your face. Pleased to say that you make every day valentine’s day, you make your every presence…a present for it is Christmas at every glance. I love to dance with you as we promenade through today’s struggles. I love the way we sing our sorrows away. For the love of you…I stay true to the lies we shun, for our lives have yet to finish, for they have only just begun. The parks are flooded with children running in glee, the carefree gestures I dare to measure, I am at pleasure with the world as you are my equator, you spin me wide round… the sound of love astounds me, on cloud nine, I rewind to the part of our bliss, I fast forward past my misery of missing thee…. I pause the moments in time, hoping to see montages of your smile in my mind. Please forgive me for the time being of elementary ecstasy… allow me to be…me…for you…you are my childhood memory, you are every moment I remember from early Sunday dinners, you are my vivid imagination of what love means to me in my realm…as I awake from this daydream…sitting on this park bench I see you walk towards me and I smile as a lifetime had passed me by…

Monday, February 13, 2012

Tomorrow's Echo ( Evening Interlude)

Tomorrow’s Echo (Evening Interlude)

Tomorrow is never promised, but it promises you to relish in the light of today and stay within the realm of greatness. What wait for mediocre? I rather be responsible for molding the culture of know it all’s and for those who go through idiot withdraws. The peace in prevailing, the options in failing are never necessary, the primary consumer, consumes the very poison that cooks the recipe for their doom! I fall in trepidation to the day of reckoning; I often drift into a daze of remembrance, the care free lifestyle, mind running wild in the jungle of my thoughts…….my thoughts……my thoughts……my thoughts…...my thoughts

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Death to FAME

Put life in its proper perspective, fame fucks us all without contraceptives. I dispose of those who think fame brings worth a new name. Fuck it being a crying shame it's an all out catastrophe. You blame those blessed for being great, and then you are the first at the helm to bury their lives at the stake. The fake are hidden in between the limelights and you wonder why they are so bright. We lose the true meaning of privilege and state of celebrity, we let access Hollywood tell us the goods. You continue to Allow TMZ paint your portrait of reality, and then see how better off you'll be! You see Janet lost a brother, Whitney’s kids lost a mother, put their existence in its proper perspective. Fuck fame and whatever it stands for, we lose so many great ones at the bloody hands of fame and misfortune. But unfortunately they have us to blame... Yes indeed, we never saw their human side, we only cared that they catered to our every amusing need. So fuck fame and whatever it stands for. I hate the fact that when one makes it there are a million others who hate it, I guess it's what balances the two, but If it wasn't for HIM, there would be no them, no me, no you, ahhh so it is true we are just like them, yes indeed. We may not pay the same taxes, we may not have the VIP access, but we all have access to the same air! Lets do away with fame and whatever it stands for, may it contemplate suicide and shoot itself with the same gun that lead to Kurt Cobains demise. Fame let them go, let free Donnie Hathaway, let loose of Sam Cooke, be kind to Aaliyah, we need her, the hearts of many here on earth you left crying, why Phyllis Hyman? Why Marvin, allow them to continue to sing our souls revelations, bring back our TEMPTATIONS. Death to fame, I rebuke the truth of you ever existing. Give back the lives you’re misleading, give back what you have taken fame...because in essence all that fame is anyway...is a name...

Death to FAME






Thursday, February 9, 2012

Writers Block 4:30am- 7:34am

The words in my head I can never spill on word! The thoughts in my head I can never utter into words, I let them rest instead. They speak to me often; they bounce off the walls of my emotions. I try to placebo my ego…it’s as though my mind is trapped, wrapped in simplicity I tend to a mindset of where I thought my mind had gone, it left a long time ago…along with all that was left in memory. In the abyss of this paper, where I bare my labor of hollowness. I forgot my quote, from my last note, and never mind what I wrote it’s what I have to say now…they find it hard to surrender.  If only it were that easy, no clever metaphors, no slick hyperboles. What I’m doing is congruent to the same struggle I juggle with on a daily basis, funny how one’s personal life can trickle down on paper and not have the gumption to convey…nothing to say, what state I’m in, NY do I care? It doesn’t pay to remain befuddled over a block of thoughts that revoke any stretch of…imagination…right? The plot thickens and I have yet to conjure up a main idea or frame of mind, body and conclusion…then it hit me….

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Contemplate to Be Great PT II (Ode To Steve Jobs)

  A far cry from the emotions I have withheld, I fathom the time of reconciliation with my feelings I have further let down. I am fond of my premonition, I hold sacred my intuition, I have revived what I have slayed into the red sea. I have become what I was most afraid to be. I have cried the rivers, I swam in my tears, BUT TODAY A stronger, newer me appears, the wrath in my speech, the grasp in my reach may not teach you, I pray that the preach in my psalm’s bestows belief in you….that you are true, you are real, far more tangible than what may proclaim to be just a figment of your imagination. But imagine a world without imagination; ponder a world without thought, without idea! The complexity of indifference, the irony in chance, lies in the contradictory state of FATE. The seams of which I have sewed into the threads of my cloth that rest upon the skin of me, you see the ceiling is the sky and glass that was once have full is now overflowing with hope and doubt, but aren’t they both one in the same? One survives by the foolish belief of some, and the other is survived by the belief of forfeiters. By the end of imagination, I will soon arrive from my coma, and have the aroma of success and passion fruit of life at my fingertips. I once closed my eyes and reopened them to a new world that I have missed…random thoughts of the coy dreamer…contemplate to be great…dare to be different in the same world that says difference is what makes us all the same!

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Dying Inspiration

 You said that you are alive...YET YOU were still dying inside.

Uncle SAM said I casSELL my soul for fortune and fame...just a couple of dollars never added up to the CHANGE that you gave to my birth name. But all I received was just the privilege to wear societies chain. I remembered from whence I came and let go of foolish acts and reacted to the proactive outbreaks in the midst of the streets! Indeed a rose grew from that there concrete... The rough edges around the fallen pedals left you there to stare in awe and pity...But why pity such a thing you barely know or fail to understand. I dare you to try...although I am endangered... A species not from this world... I am human ain't I? And like you I have flaws don't I? I am still what I am given, I am the atrocity of society…But you said you were alive…yet we are still dying inside


Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Dream Chaser

I'm tired of running...I'm tired of the fatigue that plagues my knees; I'm tired of the stress that chases me down tirelessly. I'm tired of trying to create something you may never understand. I'm tired of running, I tried walking, but all they ever said was...walk faster... Can't keep running away is what they screamed from the pharcyde. But my soul and body has succumbed to their battle of separation like apartheid. I’m tired of hiding my one true self, cause in the end you were born alone...and caskets don't come in twin sizes.  I have been running for so long I forgot what I was running to... This chase I can no longer keep up...my heart is fading, pulse is pacing, time is racing, I look up and its dark out...the moon shines on the cracked roads that I left behind. I keep running...I will keep running till what is incomplete, completes my voided soul. I will continue to plead to the heavens that I am to be salvaged for the forgiven rather than for the forgotten. For some reason I live with my eyes closed and l sleep with eyes wide shut…not a peep from me, I can’t see behind the shades of these dark eyelids. I am steadily living through dreams…that I am steadily running from at the same time.

Monday, January 30, 2012

The Masturbator

I'm steady dreaming of a better way, never taking the careful steps to success, never realizing the process in progress. My life I master bated, my tomorrows I procrastinated. Never gave chance a chance to fully appreciate the downfall of a pitfall, I find the positive connotation in deFEAT. I can lie to myself and say I will never die, but try and live falsely and see the costly results in the outcome of what you encompass, my promise to life is never take advantage, my promise to death is sleep peaceful and happily without regret, my promise to my children is to always live for the day and promise for tomorrows grace. But im a steady dreamer, pacing my thoughts, hoping that they can catch up with my recent ambitions. Im a constant masturbator, steady f**king myself, leading a naïve, lazy self to believe that I can achieve…NOTHING. Im a consistent procrastinator, I plan for tomorrow…only to plan…to plan.  I can never, will I ever be able to understand my steady, dreamin’, masturbatin’, procrastinatin’, lazy, naïve, self. When I awake the climax is gone, when I am done, I am left with nothing accomplished, just ideas and voices speaking to the shadows of my whispers…

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Midnight Visit (Interlude)

I revisited the memories we left behind on the pillows we rest our dreams. Yes we let them lie…YES WE LET THEM LIE TO US. The ways in which you made me feel revealed to me that love WAS REAL, LOVE was within our grasp. I am the pawn that is drawn upon your next move that rapidly conceals me and REVEALS me at the very same time, it takes these emotions that I convey with every teardrop that, that, that (sniffles) that breaks the tissues and issues that we left behind... just as my cry which resonates your eardrum, you make yourself believe that can’t be another one of my unexplainable conundrums you hesitate to LOVE me...WHY?...I WAS YOUR SAFE DISTANCE, THAT WAS STILL AT AN ARMS LENGTH OF YOU… But I remain ready to subdue to the authenticity of you, BUT will you, can you, help me try to fly past through the fog in your sky, for I am simply a tourist dwelling the city by the nectars of your soul, I am merely an artist painting such adoration to a canvas that bares a window to your heart…I am revisiting my past at last.

Monday, January 23, 2012

For Ossie and Ruby (The Reprise of Modern Matrimony)

Dedicated to People, In Touch, and all these magazines that tell us about who and who not to marry, I dedicate this to the non-believers and love haters. The depths of our lives has gotten a bit crazy, FACE IT YOUR LOVE LIFE WILL BE LIKE A BEYONCE OR JAY-Z. We tend to mount our love life on others martial catastrophes. Marriages don't last like they used to...people are way too busy into what's new rather than rekindling the flame of newness. Till death do us part right!? Fight or flight...tedious arguments sings songs of who's wrong, who’s right? They used to say it was cheaper to keep her! Now it's easier to please her and leave her for another deceiver to receive her. We substitute the reality of others as ours now ...crazy truth is we know what the TRUTH is...we just live off ignorance and portray it as love and bliss...but the truth is...we missed it. Love can't be defined as KIM KARDASHIAN AND KRIS HUMPHRIES would have it...the static makes me question the fabric we cover up our lives in. It doesn't hurt  to say this...OSSIE DAVIS AND RUBY DEE there love did it for me, they made me believe in a substance I couldn’t see rather than something I could conceive…(inhale-exhale)breathe once again...in the blessing of love and the meaning of "till death do US part". An idea society has ran away from. Naw they don't survive the times no more it seems every other day this one is divorcing that one, Tina asked what's love got to do with it. My reply is simply it was left out without a doubt of truth or denial. Chivalry never died…it resides in the hearts of many, but some are too stubborn to realize they have that rhythmic instrument that harps sounds of love and compassion. The task to share a hand in a lifetime commitment may come off as a bit daunting, haunting even; they simply don’t make em like Ossie and Ruby anymore. I hope Barack and Michelle do well, the chance at love though attempted can’t be revered on a reality screen, it’s a bit more truculent alil less serene  I wish to see more marriages last as long as the lives in between the dashes do. Till death do us part…THIS I know to be true… well at least to me…Just LOOK at Ossie Davis and Ruby Dee!

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

The Theory of Right and Wrong

The Theory of Right and Wrong

To do what is right I must think of wrong as it has always thought of me. The methods to my madness, the somber in my sadness has brought out the ray of sun in my smile. Dare walk a mile in the shoes I bare, spare time in the life I share…think of me as wrong as I ponder what is right. I will be just a mere figment of my own imagination, while I am asleep, sound and resounded in the air of clouds and fog. I walk the path of right and wrong; I glance at chance and see the soothsayer of the far path of random thought…ahh the thought of the random, allow them to scurry in a hurry while in the twilight of their night. The patience of apathy captures me…the clueless foundation that is found, I surround myself with all that is wrong, but I choose to disregard it, in the midst of what RIGHT is, my might won’t allow me to succumb to the refuge of your veraciousness. Do I, can I, and was it RIGHT to be LEFT behind a culture that shuns the theory of right and wrong…or was it wrong to be right in theory…

Endangered Rose

You said that you are alive...YET you ARE still dying inside.

Uncle Sam said I casSELL my soul for fortune and fame...just a couple of dollars never added up to the change that you gave to birth name...just for the privilege to wear societies chain. I remembered from whence I came and let go of foolish acts and reacted to the proactive outbreaks in the midst of the streets! Indeed a rose grew from that there concrete... The rough edges around the fallen pedals left you there to stare in awe and pity...But why pity such a thing you barely know or fail to understand. I dare you to try...although I am endangered... A species not from this world... I am human ain't I ?and like you I have flaws don't I ? I am still what I am given the atrocity of society and burden it has bestowed on me!

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

My List Of Regrets

I write with a list of regrets...I walk in faith without ever missing a step. I'm a believer that you are the author to your life novel...I write inscribe of my life's mishaps and wish they never did happen, way back when I had a heart that would throb and often sob at the sight of misery. I visit the confessional with my list of regrets...I regret  having to use the words that utter remorse. I go to bed with list of regrets, hoping that they let me sleep well,hoping there are no morning wake up calls to remind me of what I tried to leave behind...I bathe in my list of regrets, soaking in my remorse, rinsing away all the emotional residue that fogs my mind...I live with my list of regrets...praying that one day they will be undone.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Missing You...

Did you miss me...so often I think the world forgets me... So often I forget to be me...I hope you don't regret me...my actions at times whispers as my words resonates volumes of me missing you...how could a feeling be so invisible yet it still sees me. Too many times I have left what's right wrong...Allowing the weak soul within me to hold me captive against the feelings I hold true...for if missing you is a crime...I am aligned to do time for the innocence of love and it's treachery...as the world is sound asleep I am awake...missing you!

Monday, January 2, 2012

Hometown Symphony

I feel like a stranger in these estranged streets I once called home. I roam alone now, no crews to hold me down, far from a far cry of a rap sing along of the “hood I once called home”. I roam alone now, friends, crews I used to claim don’t remember me. I rekindle the light on my candle of memories.  I often wondered outside these barred project windows, would I ever leave ”tha hood”, wondering can I be that 1% they speak of… in my hometown dead bodies were found, in my hometown babies are having babies.  The night sings symphonies of the hustle, hoop dreams, the night shift while Ms. Mary’s son sells china white down the street of the turnpike; Ms. Angie’s daughter hangs with marijuana. The back stair cases, front post hang out spots. In my hometown, the youth lost their value in respect and the meaning of appreciation. Yet some parts of me wants to give back, some parts of me wants to rehash on the lost handshakes, broken pavements I walked on…but it’s that uncontrollable force that holds me back from where I need to be…in my hometown I am forgotten…but I rather it that I way…in my hometown I was lost in a world that never found me, I had to find myself…and that is why my hometown is a forgotten memory…

 Write to Make it Right!

The Universal Resolution

Another ball is bound to drop another chance at life as we know it… again. I always tend to think of the New Year as it presents itself to me…a new year.  The lights are at its brightest to bring one day out the New Year. But what old problems will you bring into the New Year? Is it the fear to tap into your unfiltered potential?  You see I bottled up my fears and canceled failed shows of foes and there misfortunes.  The grace in space and time where I can rekindle my thoughts with a just one touch.  But there are a few lessons that I have learned through this year... I have learned through concentration and dedication on your goals, only you can hold yourself back…I have gained a true appreciation for life and its privileges. I wish to no more become a dope fiend for the previous memories, I wish to bathe in a tub of amnesia…I wish to see the faults in my mistakes as I recognize the triumphs in my accidents.  This past year has taught me a lesson in life, a lesson in struggle; it has taught me how to handle success with the pressure of failure. If to fail is to try and to try is fail…what lies in the middle is perseverance. My vow to the New Year…I am ready to fail, I am ready to fall just as clock strikes twelve and the dropping of the ball.

Write to Make it Right!