We.
Were thrown together
So much pressure
That coal became diamonds
We were the shouts
Breaking through the silence
Saying
"Why should there be violence
Against my own brother? He does not looks like me. He is black, white, brown, he is red, purple, he is green. He is still my brother."
We.
Are leaves of a shaking tree
Different branches
But we all still feel the wind, the adversity
We
Are white walls painted all shades
From ivory to ebony
We
Are diversity.
We
Are unity.
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 12:47 AM UTC
I am not a presenter
Wheeze coughing
I'm the
The center
Of a hurricane
On stage
Sitting standing hating every second
Can't stop
Shaking
I'm stressing
That u might ask me any questions
When did words
Feel started feeling like knives pressing
Against my Adam's apple
Glass is empty not half full
Of concentrated juice
What's the use
In speaking
If I can't get through to you
I'm not a presenter
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 12:44 AM UTC
Remember that only half the fault is mine
No, it does not justify
My actions, but your reactions
Are completely dependent on you
Choose to be
Angry
Disappointed
Confused
Frustrated
All are fine
But please remember
Only half the fault is mine
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 2:24 AM UTC
She. Is awkward like broken English. Good intentions but can't hold a conversation from start to finish. She speaks in soliloquies. And because of this I see her in me. Daughter. Sweet child. Remember that your laugh - is like waking up from a beautiful dream. You are a memory. Of fireworks and flash photography. Reminding us that life. Can. Be. Wonderful.
But. Only if you step outside that box. Comforting others is impossible behind a door that is locked. She. Hold cosmos behind her eyes. I just know it. An intergalactic mind. She just doesn't show it.
To my daughter.
I love you.
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 8:55 PM UTC
She. Hides stars behind her eyes
I just know it. An intergalactic mind she just doesn't show it. When suddenly the cosmos start slipping. But her words dripping with depression. A constellation of aggression. No confession to her own repression of pain. Never has she looked the same. A celestial child never meant to be seen so widely. No space in time for the words she rhymes so idly. Wildly she reaches for another drink. Maybe this time she'd find some time to think.
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 3:06 AM UTC
I look left
To find what's right
In front of me
Nothing left to see
But confusion
A delusion
A dream
Soft like a cactus
Disastrous in the wrong hands
Or any
One cut
Or plenty
Of seconds wasted
Being busy doing nothing
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 4:40 PM UTC
With a mouth full of laughter
I spit this vernacular
It's spectacular
To see your jaw drop a mile wide
Ain't no place to hide
So seek this
I'm a like a cactus underwater
A wet martyr
Went so much farther
Cause my flow so wet
with rhymes that dent
When they hit skin
Let that sink in
Deep within
Where I'm damagin'
You
No excuse
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 3:56 PM UTC
I must admit that I've done you wrong
I beat you down so you'd believe I was strong
Still, I'm hoping you forgive me
I know that you don't trust me
But please believe me
I'm working out my problems
It takes two of us to solve them
& I know that you've been working hard
Gripping shards of broken trust
Lusting after days you never thought were coming
And the running of my mouth is inexcusable
You've got used to it
I'm sorry that I don't take things seriously
And that I take things too seriously
And that I'm seriously a lot to handle
Please forgive me
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 2:30 AM UTC
I am from a combination of mismatched homes
And parents that mix like water and oil
I am from swing sets and blacktops
And friendships to help the pain stop
I am from nights on couches and losing my keys
And holding on tightly to my family before I go to sleep
I am from a vanilla, white bread, slow singing church
And I wish that we sang more gospel
I am from my ever-changing community, my family
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 2:22 AM UTC
On the corner of Pine and Box
Stood a shop all dark and disheveled.
I peeked through the window,
Though covered in grime,
And saw an old man, Mr. Knox,
Twisted and bent over with time.
I pass through rusted hinges and faded teal wood,
To enter the shop where Mr. Knox stood.
Much to my pain, my shock, and my horror,
The scream of a young maiden
Rang through the store.
But no woman was present, save only memory,
And the scream was but the bell above the door.
I ventured still, past potted plants, long since death,
Through the cold corner store with steamed breath.
At once, a strange animal, four legged and fanged,
Ran past me, unknowing, and I was dismayed.
He aimed to besmirch, sat with a crooked smirk,
But the creature was only a statue.
Once again I saw the store a-stirring,
A child of five years waved weapons
But the youth was myth, sat in painting,
And had nothing to disarm me with.
Deep in the back, there was no returning,
I spotted a beast that contented my yearnings.
88 keys, no locks and no doors,
All of a sudden, I had found what I was looking for!
With further inspection, my eyes, pray did not deceive,
Saw 88 fingers as piano keys.
What a twisted contraption
And without further action,
I watched as the piano shifted.
From my feet I was lifted by
A crimson tongue through gnarled teeth,
I was swallowed whole before I could speak.
Mr. Knox approaches with a laugh on his lips,
He reaches for the skeleton keys, too far Gone from his wits.
And his melancholy melodies
Still ring from where he sits.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 2:30 PM UTC