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I made it...
Though I haven't much of what it takes.
I certainly saw some pretty dark days
Though I have had my fair share of heartbreaks,
The Lord has blessed me in many ways.

I  made it...
Even though I've waddled in emptiness
And had my share of disappointments
And my equal share of Loneliness
I have also had so many blessed moments.

I Made It...
Though  I had my share of sorrow
Despite all this and through it all,
God kept me here to see tomorrow
I know by grace I will not fall.

I Made it...
Even though I made it without any money
And have had my share of Troubles,
I know my joy will come in the morning
For my meals will be served on many tables.

I made it!
I made it..against all odds, in spite of all, I'm grateful to God for life and providence.
"the title says it all,"
she says, breaking the fourth wall.
"i was with a guy,
i know i know, so cliche,
but he really took my breath away."
the audience laughs,
she continued on,
"he told me all these enhancing things,
and at first i didn't know what to think.
the first date was a disaster,
i spilt wine all over my dress,
and the second went a little better,
but the third one was the best."
the audience anticipated the rest,
"on the 29th of September,
he got sick,"
her breath hitched,
"he told me not to worry,
as he layed in that hospital bed,
hooked up to so many tubes,
he'd say anything to get these thoughts out of my head.
he told me he knew all along,
that he had one month left to live,
i broke to a million pieces,
'but it was so worth it,'
he said lovingly as he coughed his last cough.
i thought of nothing else but the way he looked
hooked up like some middle school kid's science project,
and now here i am,
at this amazing poetry slam,
telling you all my story,
because it could be days, weeks, or even years until you discover your forever,
but for me,
mine was simply a month to remember."
babe, stay
I am Kunta Kanti, here is my story,
I came from the kingdom of Jubaru,
I'm the most famous Black male slave in history.
Before freedom and just before uhuru,
I came here chained as helpless as a slave
***** changed my identity and named me Toby
On my knees I begged my dreads not to shave
He did and from then on ,his rules I decided never to obey.

I was brought here chained from my toes to neck .
Lying in my own filths and panting for some air .
Look at how *****'s whips ruined my back ,
Many times in anguish I wondered if this was fair
Fair or not, the damage has been done,
I am a warrior, so for me don't you ever be sorry !
Someday my scars ,this cotton field will all be gone ,
I'm not Toby, call me Kunta Kanti  , and this is my story !
I learned to read and write at school.
I educated myself during my traveling and adventures .
I learned to swim well but it was in life's whirlpool
From thugs in the streets I got my lectures
Life provided me with the courses
My Failures harden my resolves
I got taught by my personal experiences
To get my bread I had to join pack like the wolves .
My tests were my challenges ,help came from no connection.
I failed a few courses and had to do remainders .
Yet through it all , I persevered grace to my street education ,
I was promoted to the class of those called breadwinners .

Somehow I knew my only way out was to hustle
So I set out to find myself but missed my way many times
I ate grass ,lighted trees ,ran the streets to beat the struggle
From the streets I learned to calculate my nickles and dimes .
I discovered poetry from the greatest book called the Bible ,
Written by the author and finisher of my faith , Jah most high
After writing my first poetry thru prayers ,I knew I was able
Thank God for the school of life ,I know everything will be aight !


twitter @ivanclappers
#vanguardpoetry23
#IvanBrookspoetry
Life is a school that teaches many things beyond reading and writing .
 Nov 2017 Minuscule Ego
D
weak
 Nov 2017 Minuscule Ego
D
On my own
I taught myself to believe
In everyone but myself
Until the time came I had
No choice but to see the truth
I was worthy, too

On my own
I fought to live through days
I never imagined I could escape
Thought I'd be trapped there
Reliving all the mistakes that
Led to those moments
Haven't written in over two months, nothing feels right including this but here I go.
Spare me excuses,
These aren't falls they are bruises,
Wrong boy she chooses.

Words hurt like fists do,
Apart from words remain scars
Painfully longer.
I'm writing a song on domestic violence, so thought I'd put a few Haikus on.
Morals abandoned,
Faith broken,
Love forsaken.

Therefore joy gets stolen.

What we have left is ; fakeness,struggles,pain,hurt,blindness, bitterness,
But we also still have love,*
That little spark can rekindle the joy.
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