Our eyes were lost within ourselves
And there were no thoughts of what was to be gained
But just memories of civilian liberty

in a silent room
With our heads shaven and our mouths full
Rediscovering ourselves with each batted eye
We sat and chewed and stared deeper into space

we sat against sanitized walls
And talked of someone that seemed so familiar
And under red lights we wrote to those who
Controlled our minds and dreams.

feel the sponge scrubbing our brains
And as we held our tired eyes and stared into space
We wondered what it meant to be sane.

She's whispering history in my ear
I think it's meant to inspire
To reveal light or
To make me succumb with fear

I never listen to history talkers
I assume they are all liars
Because their are the only voice
In the room

Ill give their words my heart
It's been kicked, stabbed, dosed
With a fifth of kerosene and lit
By the flame of a fresh match

Torn, beat, spat on, shattered
And built back up again

Yes
They can do whatever they desire to my heart
It's seen, heard, and felt it all before
But they will never recognize my mind
My mind will never falter

Freely
Sunbathing next
To you on a ship whose sole
Purpose is to destroy the world.
Oh Well.

Rather than count, I stare at the hands of time,
And I watched the courageous day die before the hideous night;
Which I saw one hold his lady like a violet past its prime,
And play with her black hair along with the grey and white;
He watched the lofty trees and how they swayed in the breeze,
Staring as if they were gods with their heads stuck in the sky,
His lips pressed softly on her skin to put her at ease,
the violet turns weary and tears fall from her eyes,
Then of her beauty did she discover in itself,
She must watch it fly among the waste of time, slowly it goes,
Since lovelies and beauties abandon themselves
And die as fast as they see other's grow;
     Know there is no such thing against time called defense
So save his love, for he is a brave man to enjoy the consequence.

How many times will I say, write, or perform a mistake?
Everlong it seems, because no matter how far I travel
someone's there telling me I'm wrong or that I'm just not ready.
I thought it would die like a flower buried in snow

What the hell was I thinking? What the hell was I reading?
Believing family could act accordingly when they saw a new lion
,but like they said I will always be a cub. There is no other place for me.
To explore! To leave the nest even if the farthest I go is to the nearest branch

And to be look upon as a bird with just a few miles in his wings
To explore! to indulge with peers, to embrace society, and to be mistreated.
Oh! what a treat it is to be mistreated, to feel alive and unaccepted in the same breath
If only I could get past the unaccepted part maybe it be easier to love myself.

To love another, but first I must love thy self. To love one self and to take reminders
of my flaws and look upon them as compliments. To humble my strengths and listen
clearly to my loud mistakes. In the end of this poem I decided to be than not to be. And to live rather than to sleep.Oh Hamlet how could you ever be so indecisive, now you will forever be remembered as just a prince.

I sat on one side of the hardwood floor with young men
Both sides had urban boys with their own urban flares
The scholars that hanged out in classrooms are with the ones
That hanged out on the street corners and skate parks.
We all sat together on that hardwood floor for Pe class

It's healthy for males to interact in sports and games.
As you challenge your opponent, you learn more about yourself
The natural  potential and the natural limitations
It can either hit you like a wave of beautiful inspiration
Or hurt like a boxers right hook, it makes you see other ways
We are all scorers, we are all winners, we play on different fields.

Night is always still and being alone is reasonable
stuck on a couch with hands in my pants like Al Bundy
I enjoy the old animations to rekindle my youth
At first I just knew it to be late night programming
but now its a laughing fit for the bald and the lonely
callers longing for that flirtatious, accepting voice

How do they know the lonely are with the late night?
When did the early hour become the time to persuade
love, lust, and empowerment of oneself?
the laughing stops and I wonder how much
insecurity there must be under the distant stars
How many of us wish we could go to sleep? maybe
its that unbearable coldness on the other side of the bed