I don't garden much
But
I do have a flower
Red with paisley highlights
A green stem, sharp and bright.
And leaves pretty as the summers day.

And sometimes a storm comes,
And im hapoy to go back outside
And put that *** with the whole in the bottom
To give it protection, because it will need that in this weird life...

Im unusable
Maybe unlovable
But i know one thing
I'm certainly uncrushable
If you see appeal
I apologize for clearly your eyes lied
Or my mirror is going blind
I know beauty is by the beholder defined
But clearly the ball was dropped in the case of mine

So why try? I'll get shot down
Why paste on a smile when its easier to scowl
Why be subtle, why cant we be upfront?
Then maybe I'll no longer be a cynical cxnt

Have you ever given yourself a second chance?
Not every mistake you make has to result in a Donna Summer.
A Donna Summer?
Yeah another self imposed last dance.
You'll never get anywhere flawless My friend.
So allow yourself those ***** ups because the most important thing from them is the lessons

I realize know ive been living with ine hand behind my back
So from now I'll make peace with the things i lack
And use my strengths to make an even greater comeback!

"Not interested. "
"We're sorry but we're not hiring at this time. "
Getting that email
Again and again
Is why i write this rhyme.

What am i doing wrong?
Did i really offend or upend someone?
Why do i keep getting my hopes up?
How do i find the audacity to hope,
Again then i get dumped on like a truck?

Unemployment *****

Why did i learn not to cry?
Instead covering up my leaking plasma with mild mannered sarcasm and a half years worth of jokes that take pokes at love and deprecates what little self worth
I even have at this point, but i guess i could only tell you this story if you rolled up a joint
So go ahead and spark away, let your sensibilities fade... I'll wait.


Now that the good stuff is in the air i know you won't care but it goes back a few years and i feel tears fall down as into the mirror i stare
When was the last time i put all i had into the one i cared for? A few years ago and all of a sudden she dissapeared, my faith in love went with her i guess, i was blessed to have even been able to call her mine and she inspired countless rhymes of mine.

She was special, one in a million like a worthwhile investment
But like the stock market in the 30s we crashed and i was alone and shapeless like dust in kansas
So for the sake of myself and others i spent time alone
Rediscovering what self love is and stitching myself back together as my heart and head still recovered like a small town from harsh weather

I guess part of me is scared that that will happen again, even among friends.
But where one chapter ends another must begin
The hands left the wall and the writing is written
My past is my past and that's dead now. Though I'll never forget the harsh lessons.

"Come on page, where do the words fit?"
In the puzzle that is my brain, i ask as at
The table i sit
My hairs have split, like cheap ****** Remy
But then again maybe my idea bulb isn't lit.

"Come along pen, why can't you write?"
We've been up with this piece since last night
I ask myself again, this is really starting to frighten me, i know i might be pressuring myself too much,
But that's where the best moments come from, in the clutch.

"Come on heart, where's your spark? You usually flutter in the act of creating art!"
But alas no wings flapping, and no adrenaline rushing like a spotted chameleon
Just stone faced cynicism like a gremlin

Help me,
Someone save me
I want these corridors of my mind
To be painted black like a rolling Stone, because i find
That my knee **** reaction to problems
Is to revel in my past knowing that won't solve them.
But still they try
To bore into my mind
Breaking and entering is I'm sure a crime
Someone help me, save me please
Save me from the persistence of a memory

Ever have a browser open
With many different tabs?
Its a slippery *****
From one tab needed,
To about 20 for no reason
Some only open for a second
Taking up more bandwidth than the
Christmas season
It's like when it slows down, your computer
Is committing the high act of treason
Bleeding onto the overstimulated neurons
That occupy your mind with things so frivolous
And then you see..

The holes in your thoughts and logic creeping and creaking, closer to falling apart
Like listening to someone with a perpetually broken heart
Speak about love purer than the whitest dove
And how they'll never fall apart...

That's what my brain is like
Ive long since given up the fight...

If i could sing,
I'd exhaust my lungs
To sing you a song that would heal
All the wounds left by that someone
Who didn't know what they had until it was gone
I'd do all i could to repair your fragile heart, bruised and battered by the cold winds of life
I'd strum a melody that brought your mind back together into a place only consisting of peace
Where happiness and wonders never ceased.
Because a song of healing, is something that we all need to hear.

If my brain and heart could both shut up that'd be nice
Or even better if an inventor could create a device
That could remove these ticks and overactive nerves
That manifest themselves as habits it doesn't take an idiot to observe
I don't know what purpose they serve
But it's eating my time and life up like an hors d'oeuvre
Whether nervous or in habit,
I feel and look like a posessed rabbit,
Rabid with energy that must be expended
A toap on a desk, a scratch to my face or a muscle that must straighten and then be bent
Again and again.
I'm sick of this problem but it shall not win!

Every day is the same
I feel lower than a slave
I did everything right
Went to school despite
It wasting my money and time
Earned 3 degrees
I can't get anywhere in my field,
And i knew it wouldn't come with ease
Hard work doesn't pay off
That statements false like the profits
Of Bernie Madoff
You made off with my money, and time
I can't get back
So now I'm working out of my mother's basement
Because of the funds i lack
I didn't rest on my laurels,
I do have a job, but it's nowhere near worth my mettle
Rejection is a part of the process
But
If you're qualified for the position then wouldn't you get it?
Or is that just the decision of bosses,
You know the yes men that don't say anything
To contest them
I'd like to address them
I know it's not easy being higher up in command
But Common decency and respect isn't a guideline, it's a demand.

I learned to crawl on basslines,
And learned to walk on the back beat,
I learned to read when i heard 4 or 5 bars
Delievered through the microphone.
And i learned how to dance when a DJ started scratching the records.
In other words, music is in my DNA
I'm a proud soul child and I'll gladly throw that flag on display.

There's so much about music that's strange and unique but,
There's always one thing thats constant.. the beat.
The heart of music that you can feel from the darkest ghettos and projects. All the way to the urban sprawl that is our cities.
The beat.

When we're tired we sleep
And when we sleep we dream
And lately i keep seeing this dog
Can someone tell me what it means?
He's a little Akita hound
Pointed ears and scrunchy nose
I named him Tanuki
Because he looks like an undersized fox
With no weasels to hold
He's little, tiny and loyal
But only exsists in my head
He loves snuggling by me, apparently
He's loves nodding his head

So why do i keep seeing this adorable dog
As i hover over the cliff of sleep?
So can someone please tell me,
What do my dreams mean?

I can't kick this slump
For as much positivity and thoughtfulness mixed with a little bit of sexiness
I can't seem to get away from my own rattled restlessness and seemingly seasonal breaks of unexplained sadness,
It's driving me to madness as i get agitated at my own slightest imperfection and even guitar playing is starting to lose its infectous nature,
but i sit in between 19-2000 nurtured not to hate you see,
But what happens when you can't stand what looks back at you in the mirror on some days?
Do i just remain in this daze or slowly but surely probe myself out of this maze?

A sight beyond sight
Forever watching the stars,
Fall from the sky
Beyond a galaxy too immense to describe
The lights traveling thousands of Light years
Seemingly instantaneously

A love beyond love
Caring for one another despite time,
Space, distance and age.
They stand as one, hand in hand,
Two wandering spirits traveling together

A friendship beyond
Even my own exorbitant expectations
With these figments of my imagination
Manifested into my nerdy possessions
And my 6 stringed expression machines
However, attachment with material things is not to be taken lightly...

The dog was on the table, being
Snuggled and told he was a... i think the nurse said "Good boy?"
He shook his head, almost instinctively saying no.
He then felt sleepy again, what were these humans doing?

Then he woke up again. This time he saw food!
He looked around apprehensively then walked
Over to the bowl with the food, it wasn't much but enough to start rehabbing him.
He spent 6 months in that office, cold and he saw that nurse nearly every day
Snuggles from her slowly started to make the hurts and pain go away

And then, after he gained the wait and his fur grew back, he was moved to a small shelter and the bars in his boxy room were black.
He wondered, would that nice human ever come back?
He waited patiently, expectantly hoping for those snuggles and reassurances,
Then he finally got his wish.
The nurse adopted him, he bounded out of that shelter happy as a lark.

Then he went to a new home, with a nice big yard, cold grass underfoot he ran there ever so happily...
Until he passed away as all dogs do, but soon the nurse would see him again

Damaged goods,
Walking through the hoods
Crying non-understable tears
A lot of hesitation, fear of love
And affection, a happy dispositon
But a lot of self protection,
Pushes away those who would love to
See the puppy happy

So he finds shelter, a cardboard box this night
It's not raining thankfully so he sleeps tight
He curls up and sleeps, as soundly as he can
Then up he gets and away from another bad human he ran
Then the fleas, and the mange became even harder to bear,
He began to wonder if anyone was out there

Then, a human! In a coat so shiny, he didnt know where he was
He didn't feel the fleas anymore, and his stomach was full with lunch
He looked up, apprehensive but still grateful
And a nurse kept petting him and snuggling him while he was on the table...

To be continued

Why can't i shake
This playfully ***** ghost
That i play host to?
I can ignore it for some time
But i find that i always hear
My innermost fantasies in my head
I guess you could say romance isn't dead
But quiet as its kept i love hearing my
Name in your breath
As we kiss and we playfully caress
Each other's lips, hips and *******
Stimulating a sensation that's just the best
Foreplay on our body as well as our minds
As i kiss up your thigh you say your hot wet hole is all mine
As i slide inside i whisper you look and feel divine

Boy, this ghost has me in a bind

The hardest people to love arent just those who have had their hearts broken
Or worse their innocence stolen
More than that it's those people who dont have confidence after being shot down so much
Getting browbeaten and your bravado shattered is a pretty heady crutch
Being crushed by insecurities makes one difficult to accept someone's affections, you see

Now there's also those afraid of commitment,
Although if you asked them they're scared to admit it
Deep down they still harbor resentment
But you have to let that ship sail on to where it's supposed to go, even if it isnt easy to watch the water carry it away

I don't get it
Out you leave for some time
And i find my way back into a rhythm in life
And continue down my path laden with rhyme
It seems sometimes that you even manage to escape my mind
But then as i hover over the edge of sleep, my heart finds time to weep
And all of a sudden i cant escape your burning flame
Of passion that i crash into, knowing you feel the same
It's harder than concrete to explain, so I'll try to do it in Passin
You and i have something called a Phoenix passion.

Every time the flame between us is reduced to ashes and dust
It sparks and burns again hotter than ever, seemingly endless and in whatever kind of weather
Our storms seem to cross paths and we once again find each other

Like a slave with no master
Or a church with no pastor
Sometimes, our lives are simply
Beautiful disasters.

Now what does that mean?
Well I'm glad you asked
See, everyone has to start over sometimes
And how better than with a fire that burns clean.

But to the fire do not add gas,
Even though it burns so bright,
But allow the fire to burn and destroy
The troubles of your life

And when that fire has burned itself out
The ashes coating the ground like sleet
Rebuild, with no feasible doubt
That you dear friend are complete

If sleep is the cousin of death then all of your dreams must reside on your breath
But death is as constant as the rain
So Like a lions mane wear your dead dreams sewn together proudly like a grass skirt in a luau in Maui

I see, and i know that no one is perfect but was jeopardizing our entire way of life worth it? I know i just discussed dreams earlier on in this piece but please allow me to indulge and talk about this elephant in the room.

Why is it that you thought that a man who is of African descent and a woman would lead us to our doom?
See, like Kennedy a lot of us had dreams of going to the moon and making a difference in the world more impactful than taking off the rest of the day at high noon,
Soon he'll be in office and i can't change that but let's face facts
We stood by and allowed your ignorance an audience we built your hate filled echo chamber that is certain parts of the information superhighway internet

O-******? Classless? Slime? January 20th the end of an error?

We all saw the comments on all the news pages and while those despicable words enraged us we know free speech is a part of what made this country
We have to take the good with the bad but, i do have one request.

Don't expect me to give him a chance as he panned and pranced all over the people who built this country off of our ancestors backs...
Don't expect me to not take him to task lyrically because maybe it'll be all that i have.

He. Is not. A president.

So like i said, sleep is the cousin of death.
But wake up friends...wake up for the mistakes we have to correct...

Chrysalism is defined as the feeling associated with being inside
Cozy and warm through a rough thunderstorm
And that sensation is a pleasure that's hard to rival

Maybe I'm going through an extreme bout with that emotion
Because I've been inside so long i could probably compare notes with Noah about the creatures in a rain filled ocean.
But with the motions and tide of life and the things I've been through

Most of which dear friends I've told to you
Im living with my demons, and if i can make it so can you
Break through your chrysalis' I'll be cheering and praying for you

I often drift and wonder why hip hop isn't music in other people's eyes
Its despised because they can't relate to what's played on the wax or on stage
These bars are straight from our heart to the page
Then delivery from the vocal chords to the mic in the booth and then we drop the album and pay our dues
Like DJ Clue mixing up the tapes for those trying to make it off of pen play and rhyme
I find when you're new money with an old soul you're less despised, but despite the critcism of the science of lyricism hip hop will always be unique, for there are many genres of music but hip hop truly is the poetry of the streets

It's not for lack of effort that i remain jobless and listless although that can change like the weather
I've spent days in my native American sweaters walking up and down the streets seeking employment, but like flavorless spearmint gum i chewed up and spit out laughed right off the stage at the Apollo before being thrown out

No doubt, there's some light on the other side of the sun and i should remain positive like a neutron but I've been through this for too long, snide hints and comments about the obvious i know I'm jobless i dont want to become heartless in the process
A bog this foggy is tough to go through but there's always a way out that i hope to show you

This makes no sense like a round square or a respectful mockingbird, or a song with no melody or a rose smelling ****.

Or an actionless verb or even better a dance with no steps.
It'll be 2017 in a few hours, but the stench of 2016 hasn't dissipated yet.

The celebrity massacre, gorilla killing, spirit and dream crushing year. It felt so depressing that at least once we were all brought to tears.

So sing Auld Lang Syne to your hearts content and cook Black eyed peas if you please
Just let me pass through midnight unscathed, that'll be enough for me

Could you be loved,
Like those clouds in the sky?
Could you be loved even if
Death passed you by?

Could you be loved by another
Both giving your all?
Could you be loved
When your back is against the wall

No i couldn't.

Because nothing from nothing brings nothing like Billy Preston said, and though i sincerely and soberly wish this fact never entered my head, inside i feel as if my soul is dead
The spark of joy not gone but fading and love clearly isn't enabling
Me to get up and get started on making myself even better than what i was
So maybe I'll stick to crying like those doves

You've felt it haven't you?
That stabbing feeling
Right to the chest that seems like it has
Absolutely no chance of healing
I know, getting told No is a part of life
But hear it too often and it'll dig into your confidence
Like butter bowing down before
A hot steel knife

I'm already rather socially awkward already, so getting shot down makes a bit of painful sense
But I'd trade more than a few dollars to get out of my shell, i mean what the hell it's like trying to appease Mike Pence,
But then if someone does take interest, in me I'm like a falling stock in a market you can't trust easily, because I'm like a puppy that's been kicked repeatedly trying to find a sense of self, and learn how to once again love someone else


Is it ever going to happen for this pathetic whelp?

An apostle named Paul said that the love of money is the root of all evil
The playwright George Bernard Shaw said that the lack of money is the root of all evil

I think they're both right, but personally i couldn't bring myself to put any money on it.

If money is evil, it seems like war that it is a necessary one
But that doesn't mean we should spend all of our time training with knives and guns
And like Mobb Deep said a shook one
Would dare to use their natural talents to earn funds

But what about doing something for the love of doing it?
What about artistic integrity and  personal pride?
Well, I'll put it to you like this.
Every artist thats had a hit has also had to miss

And if you can make money doing what you love for the rest of your years
Bless you, creative soul for culturing our sodding ears

If i could travel
Inside my mind
I truly wonder
What would i find?

Would the dreams I've had
Come back to haunt me?
The figments follow
And successfully stalk me?

Would i hear the music i
Listen to constantly
Or would i see these poems forming
And being put together miraculously?

Would i see Animals, my emotions, my
Opinions and most wretched thoughts
Personified and take horrific shapes?
Or would i remain an imagination fueled man,
And simply drive myself to be great?

Where someone can get jumped or shot due to the color of their skin

Where someone can be judged off of what extremists do for their religion

Where money justifies anything, including the destruction of sacred land

Where "you must pull yourself up! Don't expect a helping hand!"

Where the youth are criticized for not making those same mistakes

Where you can be criticized for every single breath you take

Where love, or hell even a baby dying inside of you. Isn't supported by those that call themselves pro life

Where life was once precious, but now comes closer to collapsing every day

Where you're spit on or disowned for even suggesting that you're gay

Where we cant accept abnormality, where wanting and desiring change is a sin

That's the country we live in.

So I'm being watchman, for my grandma tonight, she's going in for surgery
You know this hospital has changed, better than i thought it'd be

This mattress is about as sleeponable as a cracked open fence
I can't stay in because it's out of shape my spine is bent

Ive spent a pretty penny on snacks, and now I'm wishing i could find some relief for my back
But it's not about me tonight, it's about my grandma in her hour of need, we as her seed must attempt to pay her back

For all the things she did for us, sometimes big sometimes small
Hell if it wasn't for grandma, i wouldnt be here at all.
For bringing me my mother, and then taking up a burden of a kid,
When mom had to work late when i was sick, you always stepped up to the plate, i dont know how you did it but you did.

So thank you for everything Grandma, for we should all aspire to be half of the person you are...

We are wolves
We hunt as one.
We howl as one, at the moon so bright.
We die as one, cold and ****** on the frozen forest floor.

There is no confusion amongst our ranks,
We all must hunt to survive, **** or be killed or be shot by the humans, as the vultures eat us as our bodies stank.

There is no fear, only purpose
There is hunger but there is also satisfaction
There is no pain that can't be overcome
There is no battle that cannot be won.

There is no affection, only cold calculation.
There is no heart, only pure grit and determination.
There is no cowardice, only destruction

When you want something
Unusual
In pleasure, there can also be pain
Sometimes brutal
There can be denial, or even
Just plain teasing
But that's what happens,
When you've discovered your kink
In an inkling
For some like to be dominated
Others like to be dominator
But in all reality who are we to judge
What makes life wonderful is how
Different we truly are

As most people know, owls are symbols of wisdom
As well as omens of ill tidings and lost hope
Abnormally the horned owl sits on a branch, its eyes staring, green and cold into the night sky
As the moonlight bends in a triangular prism

A gentle "hoot hoot" cuts softly into the air
Striking fear into the small rodents who would dare
To come out at night, and risk being devoured
So maybe, just maybe in the forest floor

We're those small rodents, due to all we have to endure
And the Owl is our predator, keeping us in check
Well, I've got news for you Mr. Owl, I'm not dead yet!

You know, there's been a lot of talk about identity
What parts you have your skin tone whether or not you're the heir to a throne what's wrong with us? Why are we so fixated on division and not inclusion? We're not all Tom Clancy but can you answer me this... why is the word division even in our language? Why can't we transition from an ice cube tray to a melting *** is why this was written?
Can we as one act as one? Love as one? Protect as one before we divide ourselves from 0 and become irrational? Or can we get on one accord and work for the betterment of us all?

You know, i think that the earth must be crying
It's just got to be shedding tears the size of stars
Because we humans have inflicted it with countless deep running scars
From wars, envirodevastation and more toxicity than i can contain in these bars
But how could we betray our oldest and dearest friend?
Even if we know that this will all go away ome day
In the end it'll matter what we did to preserve and abide and protect,
Not what we did at the expense of others for the sake of profits to collect

"Thank God the humans aren't on us!"
-the other planets in the solar system...

You know its raining outside,
Right?
Yes thats true, but we're warm
And safe inside.
Well the power's gone out, and we have no
Lights
So what are we going to do for the rest of this stormy night?
We're going to listen to the crying skies
Slam and crash against the window panes
And we may just make love, so much so that it may drive us both insane.

There's something about pillows
So soft and fluffy and light
So comforting and reassuring
That they go hand in hand with the night

Oh shooting star, passing so bright,
I wish i may, i wish i might
Use her thighs as my pillow one night

Is my city the city of angels or demons
Thats a stupid question you heathen for a very odd reason because my my city is filled with the broken and the scheming no reason to question
Why the hell is my identity is so wrapped on those concrete streets and graffiti murals that white red and blue flag with stars in a plural
because through life's many hurdles this place while it changed has always been the same
A bright smile crosses my face as i look at the skyline and whisper her name from the Lakefront movers and shakers to the K town killers and the south side bakers chicago is my home and that will never change

You can hear them
Can't you?
The shaking of my shackles
The inmates moans and cackles
Its almost time
For us to get out
To make people scream and bones splinter and crack!
I'll be free! Free from this prison that they locked me in! The voices can speak for me!
On our ****** and merry

Hallows eve!

Because music geekdom was one of my life choices
I've found i can get attached to voices
Not the ones in my head, for inside i still remain dead
But the accent, the catch before you get emotional,
Sticks to my waxed ears like used lotion so
I miss voices at times, if those i care of mostly,
So i try to imagine that voice coursing through my head so softly
Wobbly is my memory, so i hold on to everything that i can
But hearing those special voices again, thats a happiness no one can plan

I'm seeking fulfillment and purpose and a job if i can find one that's worth it
For sure it's not easy to remain vigorous and happy in face of things that make you queasy and not to sound sappy
But maybe if the sun came out then i wouldn't feel so ******,
because i feel out of place like a straight hair where every other  strand is curled and *****
But what if i started feel good inc, and manufactured happiness to the masses I'll make a killing like a colorado grass grower, maybe then I'll show them that
You can make money doing anything under the right circumstances but my chances are slim for that ever happening like Wayne Gretzky not wearing 99 on the ice

Or maybe, just maybe, we could all spread some love outside

You can't love me i
Know this feeling all too well
When the heart reaches

Out for someone so
Perfect in your clouded eyes
That you'll do what they

Say in a heartbeat
But love is a drug and
You were my rehab place

So i know that you
Can't love me at all, 'cause
In my heart there is

No space for myself
Let alone someone else so
You cannot love me,

No
Way

I wish i could chase them
The radical dreamers,
And their wild untameable spirits
Following whims and whimsy
Around Like dandelion seeds in the wind
But then I'm in this place for a reason
I'm stable, but unfulfilled
I have a foundation but like steely Dan can't buy a thrill
So maybe i don't need to chase those following the dreams of childhood and even adulthood
Maybe where i am right now, though not exciting necessarily is a sign i should be content, so i have it good...

So my friend asked me, where her prince was?
To which i responded in kind with my own question
Where's my princess?
Cause this has been keeping me up like ******, you see all this madness life throws is hard to wade through like cialis
With no one at my side to help pick me up when it gets rough
Alone with no one to share your secrets and to hold through laughter and tears, someone i can rely on to face my family friends and even a jury of my peers

So i ask again, where's my princess?

I hope my eyes arent deceiving me
Because ive never beheld such beauty
Her long silky hair, her eyes and smile though pain it mustve masked
She was like a gem from angle, perfection in all aspects
Her laughter was like a chord on a spanish guitar
Man, we couldve gone so far
Together as one, mind body and soul joined together
But i couldnt muster up the courage to tell you how i felt, and after the fact we talk and you felt the same
Man, regret is gonna drive both of us insane

There's a disease infecting the churchhouse and surrounding community,
It's putting the bible behind personal opinions and political policies
Obviously we're all human and as such we have opinions that differ but you'd think we'd have learned by now that the pulpit isn't the place for issues
It's you that I'm talking about if you find yourself offended by this
And before i go on I'll be the first to tell you that I'm far from perfect
I'm no rocket scientist but as a kid i learned
That people who live in glass houses and throw stones are liable to get burned
So if you're reading this and find your nerves on fire and your stomach had churned
Then tell the "Christians" in the world to go back to the word

My heads going ones way
My soul another
My mind and body are going another way
And my wallet still another

I think i know what its like
To be executed by wild horses
I'm being pulled apart at the seams
Like a college kid trying to make good on some dreams

Poems are my own way of coming clean,
To myself and to those that read,
So id advise gathering some mulled mead
Because i have a desire to talk
because my soul and spirit arent united

I used to be on one accord now I'm more all over the place like an improper progression of chords
I dont know where or what to do or how to go
Can someone lead me? Please...

Sadly i wont get to meet you
Or touch your skin,
Or hold you and comfort
As loudly you wail and cry,
I wont get to watch you grow,
Into a beautiful human being i know,
But
I can confirm that you wont have to cry,
That you won't have to see the craziness the world brings
You wont have to have your spirit cracked and shaved,
And you wont walk into the train along with the brokenhearted, downtrodden and crazed,

Would you have been a niece or another nephew? That i may not ever know
But I'll see you soon one day,
And i hope you're a happy little angel, playing on the clouds like snow