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Born Jan 2018
5
                   a
               e      r
           y             s

since I joined hello
a larva with a torn soul
Clinging to Whatever's left of life

since I started scratching for light
Peeking at the  deeming tunnel
but still hoping

since I started dinning with poets
eating haiku in the morning
drinking sonnet in the afternoon
feeling the aching agony of the broken in the evening
falling in love with the dreamers at night

Since my heart was pounded
wrecked and left with unspeakable pain

Since Born was birthed
a crawling character that was literally dying
but still screaming for hope, love and dream

Since Ismael Ibrahim aka Born
stopped existing
and started living
I appreciate every single one of you for making this journey possible. In good, bad and worst I poured out my heart to you guys and you showed me nothing but love. Thank you
Born Jan 2018
Retrospective of days filled with dust
a shelved magic collecting rust
running from your demons
embraced love, hope and guns
thoughts shackled and cuffed
where is the love!

Respect
and honor your commitments
a rusty voice echoed
never settle for anything less than greatness
but a conniving planet will alienate your endeavors
deem you terroristic for daring
Where is the love!

Your creativity confined
Coated with uncertainty and brute mediocrity
theories smeared all over
a fatal dream, love and confusion
Paired on an electric chair
hanging on a thread of life
where is the love!

In a planet where love and peace are strangers
Your certainly a voyager
birthed into confusion and irate
Your freedom and originality impoverished
into specks of visions and fallacies
where is the love
  Nov 2017 Born
alex
when a boy shows you his hands
bare except for the dust
he’s begging you to look past
take them in yours.
squeeze them once.
twice.
say without speaking
that you understand that the valleys
in his palms were meant to cradle
shooting star wishes
that he’s allowed to still hope for.
when a boy shows you his eyes
of milk and crimson and melanin
a bloodshot vein for every night he can’t sleep
let him shut his eyelids.
say without speaking
that you understand that the black hole pinpricks
of his irises hold more than the universe
should allow.
when a boy shows you his soul
shivering but still working toward friction
iced over but still working toward melting
let him come to rest next to yours.
say without speaking
that you understand that he is lonely
and that his silence speaks volumes
and that you kept his treasure close
because you love him.
when a boy shows you his hands
show him your hands.
when a boy shows you his eyes
show him your eyes.
when a boy shows you his soul
show him that
this is a comfortable place to rest it.
when a boy shows you the hardness that shaped him
show him the softness
that you have in store.
k
Born Nov 2017
Just a moment of silence
for a moment of sirens
When she was beautiful, happy
but some days were tragic
no no nostalgic
Of those days filled with magic

Just a moment of silence
for a moment of sirens
for  the days he was high
he ****** up her life
Clinging to a lie
escaping his life

Just a moment of silence
for a moment of sirens
When i found love
darling you were the one
kiss me slow
I want this moment forever

Just a moment of silence
for a moment of sirens
For the toddler feels the wrath
of famine and cold nights
of despots Clinging to illusion
of a world with no humanity
Born Nov 2017
Your feeling like that word
"decapitated"
torn shredded and dumped into oblivion

He's been wheeling that lie
"justice"
shackled and duct taped
frightened by casual bullets

You've been living that life
"self loathing"
memories devoured you of existence

They emit that stench
"slavery
humbled by deceptive characters

She's been lonely
" love"
is what hypocrisy promised
Born Oct 2017
This poem is wounded
Written with bleeding trembling fingers,
creating Choking suffocating imagery
death has never been this painful

This poem is crying
tearing for what's lost never to return  

This poem is tragic
stitching Whatever's left of your heart

This poem is a movement
giving voice to the oppressed
fighting for equality and justice
in a very cold world

This poem is your future
Modeling you for success
reminding you
even if it's a world filled with malice
there's still beauty in it
Born Oct 2017
It either 'coronation'
or some truths shoved down your throat
with no regrets
that launches the world into a dizzy subtle hate
that pecks the reality of peasants
wearing his masters shoes

And your fate is choked and weighed down
and the world keeps pounding, hating, drowning your existence
cause there's no love or Justice
when you're a filth with no worth  

Your master believes
submission is your natural state
cause your ancestors taught you
why would an ant  quarrel with a boot?

Here you are
afraid to have dreams and hope
crying for your progenies impending peril
and there's no knight or a hero in sight
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