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CP Walker Feb 2015
Babe, I love kissing you like sipping hot tea;
I go sip after sip, and you're always so sweet.

Burn my mouth if I must to have that nice taste;
See myself in reflections so close to my face.

Cheek-bones touch the holy fountain;
Youth again I have obtained;
Seen my eyes bounce back within;
Whet again, my tongue's edged flame.

Cannot communicate through this facade;
I guess we're done, the haze has won:
I've lost God.

Thanks for such a nice attempt, see you in some other life my friend.

I've lost the ability to say what I mean and to mean what I say;
And I'm scared of conversation, so I shamefully publicly pray.

That makes me a poet, too many would say;
A cynical stance I'd have to portray:

Spreading Gods word is duty, no doubt;
But forcing it on others ain't what Gods about;
Listen to me preach if you have any doubts;
I'll silence your ulterior motives right out.
Jazz got me stumblin haha
CP Walker Jan 2015
Check it,
I wreck it,
On the mic I get hectic;
I'm like a broken mirror, look, I'm bad luck reflectin.

When I'm drunk I see in two's,
I smoke the skunk to find my muse,
Lysdexic con-, I'm real -fused,
And though you have to pick and choose,
I'm both the tortoise and the hare: I never lose;
I'm real smoothe,
But I can cruise.

New thoughts,
I lay em down,
From the top,
I'm breaking ground.
Faucet runnin,
Hot new flow,
Thoughts is stunnin,
Here we go:

Preferred fuel is butane,
Lyrical spark ignites flame,
And yes my rhymes is insane,
Never premeditate game.

And here's another,
No really, you can have it for free:
We all started out white,
As a ***** turned to seed;

And my my,
How I've grown,
And turnt thoughts into gold,
Just call me new school alchemist,
My methods be fresh and untold.

Not a bad little verse,
From the old t-o-p,
Now Imma finish shapooin,
Cause I'm so fresh and so clean.
This sounded better spur of the moment in the shower when it was raw and organic. Trying to remember what I said when I was in the moment kinda kills the fun in hindsight though haha. Think of this what you will, judges never bothered me.
CP Walker Dec 2014
I told my family about you. It's hard for me to talk to anyone these days, but I did it...I tried my very best, and for reasons as they go, you were all I could manage to hold in conversation. My sister wants to meet you. She can tell I've changed--my mind or my manor...just something--and she wants to see who's done it. She's always been quite sensitive to these subtle things, more so than the others, and she knew right away I had changed, and you were the one who did it to me.

I miss you so much. I'm home--I guess that's what I should call family all lives here, but I never have, and it's never truly felt like home to me--but I'd rather be with you. I'm so torn! I feel guilt and sadness and joy like I've never felt before all at the same time. I want to spend time with my family because I see them so rarely now while at school, and I hate missing the kids grow up because they are indeed growing so fast--too fast--but at the same time, I cannot pass through a single moment without thinking about you and that time when I will see your face again and embrace your person like I wish to now and every second. It makes me sad that we are not together, that you are not here to cuddle on this bed like you are back at school, that I'd rather be somewhere else with you than here with my family now. I'm a terrible son and a horrible brother, but I know deep down where it really matters that I'd rather be where you are...where we were. In the South, where I felt alive, where sickness never bothered me, where I felt warmth when the Sun shined and not shame, where I felt home at last, there with you. But no, instead I'm here in the dreadful north...where sickness breaks my back and kicks me while I'm down, where guilt and shame count my days and exhaustion kills me quicker. I love my family, I've missed them so much, but I know they are stronger than me and need not my smile to fight back the weather. I must return back South. I must find you. I'll meet you there, at school, at home, my home, our home. My home.
CP Walker Nov 2014
It's been a while,
A pause indeed, since last we spoke my friend;

How goes the trial,
Laws disagreed, hence fastly broken then.

I know such things,
Quickly stirred, and mixed up sediment;

The people roared, and pushed back in lament.

Though the big whigs,
Fat--content--made their choices known;

Fewer sticks,
Racks or stones, could reveal such bruises shown.

The people cried out,
Fraught with rage: no more racial sin;

And fire bout,
And rattled cage: the riots did begin.

He said she said,
Fingers stretched, and looked for victims sweet;

Burn the bed,
The whole house catched, and cooked the poor babe's feet.

Justice sought, the people turned to crime;

Fuss for not, no lesson learned with time.

How dare you
Shout out in his name, and call your actions just;

How dare you
Tout your shameful ways, for media to lust.

You think your actions
Bring him peace? His family any comfort?

Seek equality with violence
In the streets?! What fairness brings this sport?

How 'bout next time,
Before you decide, to selfishly loot and plunder... take the time,
Explore these "lies," and seek lessons lying under?

Such quick default,
To mob mentality, your ignorance raced to match;

Your morals halt,
In ethical frailty, and sense replaced by the cookie-cutter batch.

And cynical,
Though I, myself, have quickly grown to be;

At least I try,
Peacefully to delve, and learn from Missouri.

Backwards still,
Our country may be, with racial issues new;

It fits the bill,
Quite obviously, as our citizens recently proved:

Really?! Oh really?!
We haven't moved forward, since race riots of the past?

How childish, how silly,
You've clearly ignored,
The equality acheived at last.

And no, of course not,
We're certainly not perfect, for bigots still surely exist;

But do you not realize,
How little you've helped, to spread love and remedy this.

Embrace peace now,
Brother, resign your anger and hatred and cynical ways;

Let's bring this country
Together again, let equality ring out the day.
Think we're acting pretty childish as a country right now.
CP Walker Oct 2014
I felt like they were gone...not suddenly but subtlety lifted off my shoulders. Yet my burden seemed all the heavier. I waited til that night to check. I couldn't possibly have been prepared any time sooner to confront it. I avoided my phone all day. I hid all day from those good smells and those long walks that stir my liking. And I avoided the mirror at all could I bear to look. But night soon fell, and I knew there was no getting out of it. I had to see for myself.

I prepared.

I turned the ****. Spouts shot out in pulsating inconsistency: chilly at first but warm enough soon and hot and steamy not much later. I striped naked. I closed: the door behind me, my eyes, the curtains. Alone at last with least I hoped. I prayed. I couldn't bear to check still. I was too scared. I didn't know how I'd react if the worst became, so I started with other tasks to soften the moment. I cupped my hand one and filled shampoo with the other. Ran my fingers through my hair and the burning rain. My head finished, I started scrubbing with soap but quickly stopped as my arms reached my chest. My heart was pounding...I could feel it. It was real. I could not bring myself to reach my hands up any higher. Yet I knew it had to be done. I had to check. I had to.

I took a deep breath. I wasn't ready...I knew I wasn't, but I made myself do it anyways. I reached up. I felt...felt. And my body stiffened, and my heart pumped icy shock through my veins. I knew it would be true. I was waiting for it all day. I have no idea what possessed me to wait til that moment to confirm. Yet there I stood: hot and cold, ready and shocked, prepared and disarmed.

In that moment, I felt: I grabbed at my shoulders frantically, searching ever inch of them for them, asking aloud (in my head) where they could be hiding. But I knew it already. They were gone. They were not hiding behind my neck (of course they would never put there differences aside and come together that close just to hide from me). They were truly gone.

And my stomach sank. The water, whether hot or cold in reality, became an instant sickening freeze: an anti-invocation of pure emptiness.

For the angel and the devil who had accompanied me 20 years hence, ever omnipresent on shoulders right and left, were gone. My shoulders held nothing. The angel flew out; the devil sank in. And there I remained: alone...truly alone for the first time in my life.

My logic and reason were gone. My judgment rendered untrustworthy, entirely to myself. My focus hopelessly lost. My decision too frightening to attempt without them. For it was: the angle and the devil were truly gone, and I was on my own.
CP Walker Oct 2014
Brushed my teeth--the final task--so now it's safe to rest;
Wipe my feet--forgot this last--go climb into my nest.

I hate the corny daily slew that pops up on my screen;
Alternatively *****, just feign some truth, that tops the trending scene.

Write it down, type it out, spit it for the dogs and ponies;
Might turn out ripe or spout: a pit that bogs down phonies.

Either way, I really hate this routine...especially the parts where we meet in it.
Popcorny culture push, hadanuffadat
CP Walker Oct 2014
I don't really know
Why I find myself here.
I'm not in any particular mood-
In fact, it seems quite misconstrued-
To try to conjure up some prose
When sleep is needed clear
And I've nowhere to go
And no way to steer
And certainly an interlude
Draws ever near.

A randomness slowly but surely creeps
Into the thoughts I've compiled thus
As no filter can be founded.
And truly I'll be astounded
If by the end of these heaps
Of words you derive even a touch
Of sentiment which I wish to seep
As confusion is a must
For this nonsense to be grounded
And two cents made of this stuff.

My thoughts are all smashed
By mortar and pestle
Until all meaning is lost,
And heavy though the cost
Of this pulverizing bash
From my slumbering nestle
I think you'll get past,
My oddly shaped vessel
If dream thoughts are freely tossed
And you take on such a hassle.
Weird structure 8p
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