What is it
that kept your words in,
your fist clenched,
and your heart heavy?
Jan 14, 2020
Jan 14, 2020 at 2:27 AM UTC
If life is the beautiful struggle
then death is the grotesque prize.
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 3:42 PM UTC
How many faces do you wear a day?
I don't need your answer.
But I think you do.
Jun 7, 2019
Jun 7, 2019 at 7:49 PM UTC
I used to think if I said anything, then I'd have to say everything.
Now I say nothing.
Jun 6, 2019
Jun 6, 2019 at 11:26 PM UTC
If life is like a movie, it’s uncut and there’s no edits,
no double takes, no music to cue, and no credits.
Get it? Me neither. I’m either here to explain or rename
the blame til it’s sufficiently diverted from the pain of
being actors with no roles,
of reading scripts with mad holes,
of thinking we direct what we don’t hold.
I wake up and live one moment to the next,
knowing it’s a mess but happy that at least I got some cess.
At least my daughter don’t gotta repeat all my steps,
at most I feel that in many ways we’re blessed.
Stress is such a commonality, a normality of
one part calamity and two parts formality.
I could smile through my teeth but what it really mean
when I feel disconnected from the places that you reach?
And do you feel at all connected to my words?
Do they even matter beside to get it off my nerves?
Maybe that’s enough and if it ain’t I couldn’t care,
maybe that’s not all so if I fall, will you be there?
Daily I be thinking what criteria could grade me –
needing numbers, needing stats, just so I could play me.
I smoked too much, forgot my lines instead made up some rhymes.
It’s where I’m from, a place with words and no definition of a time.
It’s where I go when I can’t think of any other,
when I miss my father, sisters, and my mother,
my nephews, friends, and where I’m from.
It’s where I go when I am feeling numb.
My ***** repetitive if you’ve heard me once before,
cuz it’s only in remembering that’s born the metaphor.
We digest so much edit that we think it could be real,
but when it happens there’s no changing how you feel.
The movies got cuts, the comments got changes,
the post is rewritten and the draft got new pages.
What is the sum of what we see and how it affects?
What is behind the smoke, mirror, haze, and effects?
What is another day to the week? Another minute to the hour?
What is the time it takes for an idea just to flower?
May 20, 2019
May 20, 2019 at 5:58 PM UTC
I turned the TV on the other day and a man in a suit told me the world holds too much danger.
There’s people unlike me, people I don’t know, people that are strangers.
So if I’m the good guy, then that must mean these people are the bad.
Otherwise I’d be the bad guy and that idea is just mad.
There’s a war every day and it’s started for some freedom,
for democracy, for things you’ll take even if you don’t need ‘em.
There’s a woman with a cackle, the problems the first black president didn’t tackle
and all the ones the white ones have ignored and stored in shackles.
No apologies, acknowledgement, or recognition -
we follow drivers, but ignore ignitions.
See what I mean is, the person steering sometimes forgets
the mechanisms that allow them to get from outlet to outlet.
Without the gears, the nuts and the bolts,
the workers and the students, what would power hold?
May 20, 2019
May 20, 2019 at 5:53 PM UTC
because there's a vision in the back
of your mind.
a vision that you think you can see,
but you aren't sure.
so you ignore it,
try to look away,
get on through the day.
but still it stays
dormant
for a moment
and that's enough.
May 6, 2019
May 6, 2019 at 9:24 PM UTC
time is no realer than money, cash - credit - or debit.
defined between lines lies the meaning of where we all heading.
and where we all been but the house of other men,
other women, teaching us life and its element.
gotta learn to speak for myself and not for the man,
for everything i'm not is also everything i am.
and everything i wish is just a thought waiting for life.
they say the struggle pay the price while debating for the strife.
they say ... many things ... but what is it you think?
what is it you see between the moments that you blink?
the line between a dream and a reality is thin,
stand back far enough and the two become one thing.
like a needle in a haystack, we're lost without our minds.
like an anachronism, we're lost within our time.
searching, searching, searching ... but for what and do we know?
is it even something that our pupils can behold?
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 6:18 PM UTC
the cops are a bunch of hooligans.
your boss looking at you like, ‘who are you again?’
an order was passed by the president,
and all the residents had to evacuate the tenements.
the school won’t take you without money,
and the club won’t love you without honeys.
the bills came through and beat you black and blue,
and you start wondering
what happen if you make a sudden move?
the drugs ain’t doing what they used to do,
the hood don’t love you, it’s just used to you.
the tv and the radio are all about cheddar,
and the internet ain’t much better,
the fare went up on the train,
and guess who was the sucker who had to pay?
your thoughts start becoming things that you know
and all of a sudden, you find yourself ready to go.
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 3:38 AM UTC