Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you artists like no other,
who lay their hearts down on the line day and night in every line they write.These artists are the next generation rappers and the new generation poets, they can't be defined by a genre, but you can call them the spoken word artists.

Let me start off with, I’m just a black man
coming up from the dark side, so I’m having a hard time
staying on track, man.
But man, this track I’m on was paved for me
and to stray would be an act of heresy.
Heretics present and act when
a sheep who strays is a black one,
so every time a black son rises to the occasion,
they act like there’s an eclipse with a black sun.
And our sons can’t be young because they have sons of their own,
so busy trying to strap up and act up they can’t wrap up their manhood.
Trying to act grown,
and they can’t grow up to be fathers because they never had fathers of their own.
How you have four fathers whose forefathers fathered four, and didn’t even know.
Black men have lost their backbone,
but that’s okay, cause I’m the black stone
in this bedrock that is our culture, and I’m here to bring ya’ll back home
like the fathers you never had back home.

It's not real, I don't care how you feel.
They are real people, but you know what I hope? This is a movie with no sequel.
You started this trend where you whip people into submission.
You make grown men beg and fall into fetal positions.
Yes, this was over 50 years in the past, but the effects are long lasting.
And the worst part is the youth doesn't care; all they want to do is smoke grass and remenisce in a past that they won’t have if they keep on the one way track to destruction.
Yes, we are a new generation, but all you want to do is stick your head in the lyrics that have no values.
Martin Luther King had a dream to lead his people into a bright new future, but you have a dream to dive in to the unknowns that will cause you diseases and leave you dead without a purpose. You say you’re sweet and you’re quick on your feet, but you won't be when you pass out on the street from a bullet in the head, or even the AIDs that you got from laying between the sheets in the bed with that broad you didn't even know. Because you thought you was dope.

I done used a pack of 24 pencils, a couple pens, 10 erasers, I ain't got no utensils, that's what happens with that word – it'll hit you, going so fast, the opposition comes up and they blow a whistle, They call me Mainy and I promised not to say nothing, but these wanna be rappers, they gotta say something, but those words that you spit better than you saying nothing, cuz I got these bars on my tongue jumping like they double dutching... You wanna battle me? fine. But you know what's behind me? You got a gang and some killers, man I got a Army. You got a couple thugs, a sawed off shotgun, 12 SMGs, a ****** rifle and a rocket launcher..beat so dope I mess around  till the time go off, army so strong, you coming off?  Then your heads gone.

And I'll assist with the ammo in the truck, let’s do a 2pac and hit ‘em
up and drive away when the cameras come. America’s most wanted times 4 my man Jermaine, Monsell, Rachelle, and the truly yours. Our lyrics are mythical but not stereotypical because we're vicious like werewolves
and cold zombies; you can say that this is the world’s lyrical mythical
army.

Go get your money up, cheese, lettuce and get some bacon , while you’re at it go get some bread, I'll be hungry later, gotta do the math for this quick cash, I'm rappin’ so bad, it sound like I belong on a soundtrack. God got me counting money like I won the lotto, smoking so much color purple you can call me Hoppo. The verses that you be spittin’ is so inferior, ****** that she wrote every time I pick up a pen again, and before I stand up here and make proof of liars, I let my rapping do the talking, ready, aim and all I spit is fire.

The Skin Color

the perfect girl lives in the state of big penn,
the perfect girl i met 2 years after 2010.
the perfect girl is a soccer star
the perfect girl has a great sence of humor and knows how to break hearts
the perfect girl is kinda slippery
cause at times she gets away from me
the perfect girl is my angel without wings
said from god almighty himself
the perfect girl is kinda hard to understand
outta all the people she could of chose she chose this mortal man
the perfect girl see something in me that i can't see, nor understand
but i'm glad that i can fit into her world and i'm able to fit into her plans
see the perfect girl can not be described by this small poem
if i wrote a hundred page essay about her it won't even scratch the surface
but the perfect girl will always have my heart and i hope i have hers.

The silence, is apart of me
The silence, approves me
The silence, is extremely deadly
So stay away from me, when I'm holding a machete
The silence it kills
The silence makes me feel
The silence is neither here nor there but the silence is everywhere
Theirs no escaping the silence
Really their's no escaping myself
No matter what anybody say the silence is always within myself.

The moment you leave me alone
is the moment it all goes downhill
i suffer when everyone sleeps
its my dreams thats always rapeing me, emotionally
and they do it every night like a drug addict and their ******
giving me false premonitions of a brighter day
like that friend that always say it'll be ok
while my nightmares are the one's who real with me
telling me you'll be nothing in life and you know what I'm starting to believe
why do i always hope for the best when I'm always getting the worst
the happy thread that i clinch and tread is about to tare
so watch and stare who really gives a care
the silence is my best friend, the silence is my worst enemy
the silence is lifting me, and the silence is killing me
and at the day the silence is still here with me.

I present to you the undefeated, reining, defending competitors hailing from anywhere human life resides. These competitors have no specific expected gender just courage, heart, and art. It takes a lot courage to do what they do day in and day out, weekly or monthly then go back to being the everyday people. The everyday people that walks with us and around us. We know these people very well. Hell we are those people.
The people that put their life, love, hate, business, and memories on the stage. what ever can be done to human being more than likely has been talked about on this stage.
That's what makes them, them, that's what makes us, us, and that's what makes anyone who has graced a stage or a microphone a spoken word artist.
We as spoken word artists put our lives, our history, our passionate interest to words and later to ears of our friends, associates or complete strangers and sometimes allow those same ones to give our narratives, our practices, our life choices scores.
Some people will argue that soldiers have a harder job than us but soldiers takes the orders and choose weather or not to follow them, while we the spoken word artist make the orders, coordinate the orders, execute them and protect ourselves when the time is up.
That's why we say "don't be nice poet". Because we speak the truth, we speak our truth. And the truth hurts, yeah the truth sets you free, free of a job, a connection, a life but we still "go in poet" anyway.
No matter how defeated we feel after every line we write we're undefeated, as long as respect is shown to this stage, we're defending, and every day we survive our trauma to tell we're reining champions. This is what makes me, you, us the reining, undefeated and defending Spoken Word Artist.

This, this is what love looks like. Rival hoods coming together to fight a common enemy like its world war 2 again. We've finally stopped the violence against each other but now we have to fight the system before the system, systematically destroy us. I never knew how similar our times were until now. Its like history is in repeat but just in a different time zone. All Lives matters hashtags looks like hiding the modern day Holocaust code name police brutality.  We the black race are the Jews, the government is Adolf ******, and the police are the ****'s. We need outside interference cause we, the black race is screaming stop the violence but the police don't here us over the routine bullet showers. This final solution is cleaning, cleaning our faces out of this country. It's crazy how it seems that this country is Indian giving to me. They needed us to brighten the future, work their tanks, and harvest their crops now trying to get rid of us so they can lavish in our ancestors hard work. Every one whose a minority needs to be on edge cause one by one their pushing our kind off the ledge and yes maybe that wasn't your family member dead last week but what are you going to do when it is. I've seen too many mistakes being made and honestly I wanna know what is your families reaction when your hearts eyes are mistaken for targets. When your open palms and Twitter fingers are mistaken for trigger fingers. When you obey all of the officer's commands like a good boy and he has a movie flashback and decides to replay the ending to Lacey. Don't answer now let your family do it for you on your local news . Back in 2014 your case would of meant something but now you're just another name on a poster that steadfast people will look at and make post about, then move on about their day. Successful marches where no one dies, candlelight vigil's with the entire community presence, and cops reporting other crooked cops, that is what love looks like. And now more than ever, we need to love again.

What happens when you become the mediocre you told her to never to settle for. No matter the metamorphosis you undergo it never meets her expectations, she read my manual and saw in the future. She tells me I'm capable of being all that she's looking for. That's when I shut down on the inside because everyday the agenda changes and she'll​ never give home work, work sheets, nor practice test to instill the teachings from the other days, only just exams. You know the big challenges that supposedly made up of everything you learn, and if you having a bad day and malfunction before you can test your might, it just looks like you've done nothing. I perform fine on a daily basis but when I'm given test I don't consent to  the collections of 1's and 0's freeze which leads failure like cutting the red wire. I'm confused if she's performing the job of a teacher or hacker with this slow but swift buffer over flow attack. Every passing moment of me living with failure that file contains a MP4 of me in that moment making her mad like when Google chrome is unresponsive , a MP3 file of her telling me what I did that repeats over, and over and, over again. A gif of my heart breaking down to it's last megabytes, and a gig of her love lost due to my corruption. She's not the problem though, she's the spectator, and sometimes the controller. I just want to make her happy, make her buy in to me like how we did when I was glowing with change not keep her down with chains. My next step is to rip out my mother board and tell her program me, cause whatever my programming is, it isn't up to par with her. It's crazy what we as robots do keep what's real.

When you said you loved me only my left eye cried. When we together, my left side only knew love. When we were together my left side was the one you layed on. When you whispered your words of affection in my ear the left ear was always the receiver. When I was clinching your existence on a nightly basis my left arm was always on the bottom. Because my right arm was always the shield. The shield at night, the shield during the day, my shield for you, my sheild against you. The reason my right eye didn't cry too, because it's used to pain from you. My right side was both your offensive target and your defense mechanism . My right side knows what a knife in the back feels like because of your hippocracy and your hands. My right side knows things that my left side don't want to believe. Know how many times I use my right side as a bulletproof vest to danger, to the world, to you and then still be your soft side when she decided to take off the gloves. When you told me you loved me, my left side cried not because it loves you too, but for the first time it experienced pain. Pain that was only reserved for the right side. Pain that we both agreed that the left side shouldn't be exposed to like child watching their parents divorce. Unlike my right side, the left side's pain can't be healed with an ice pack, or aloe Vera, or even a good meal. When you told me you loved me was the day I became ambidextrous. The day my right and left side saw eye to eye.

attiude exrpess
the train to success have tracks
what side are you on.

Fact!
Zebras can’t sleep alone.
In a way I know how they feel. Every New Years Eve’s night, the hood turns into the Serengeti
and I’m the zebra waiting for my zebra friend named silence so i can feel secure enough to go to sleep.
Cause when the glock strikes 12, the ferocious bullets escape their caves, pouncing through the air, hunting for prey so they can send them to the destination where prayers lay. This is a daily fear living where i live
but on December 31st its the only time where its a promised flat line when the countdown meets its deadline, so that's why I wait it out, don’t sleep alone until i’m accompanied by the zebra of silence.
When she came into my life, she made me feel whole.
So whole that our love created a zebra of its own that guarded us through the night. Our love was so strong we slept through the annual running of predators that i usually wait for silence for until i can relax.
When she left she took the sound of silence that existed before her. Now every night I'm accompanied by the sounds of the memories we shared. Even though those sounds aren’t as vicious as a bullet’s roar in the middle of the night,
it is just as crippling to this wounded zebra heart of mine that stripes are black and blue now instead of black and white.
The sounds that used to scare me are the ones i take comfort in cause it beats the sounds of her voice occasionally creeping into my conscious. With the sound of predators roaming at night it reminds me of a time that i was alone and had no problem keeping that way.
A time where depression never knew me on a first name basis.
A time where I'm just a zebra waiting for another zebra to go to sleep.