I am but a man of many faces…
Experiences and places
I am but one of many definitions of art, poetry… creativity if you may
Inconsistently consistent sometimes… makes no sense?
Just let these words play… around in your mind
Until you happen to find
Where I’m going with this
Several compositions in April, and none through May
I think
Where am I going with this?
These other poets and I aren’t in the same boat
I like to think… sometimes I float
Other times I sink
Then resurface again to let these feelings pour… let them rain
Down on the page
Feelings of happiness, sometimes rage
Sometimes love, sometimes ‘lost’
Because I’ve loved and I’ve lost
But I’m content, at most
With this relationship right here… my poetry and I
While others will wither and die… my faithful flower blossoms
And I will accept her… and her sweet call
Her nectar
Entices me way too easily
Satisfaction to this busy bee
Inconsistently consistent? Maybe…
But the poetry is real
And the inspiration… persistent.

It’s one of those things
When you really don’t know what you want
When you try to stay out of the game and watch from the sidelines, but you can’t
When relationships ****
But companionship makes sense
When every person you’re with is amazing and intense
But not enough
Something’s missing
When you’re tired of the monotony
When you’re just done
When there are a lot of choices
But you choose none
Because it’s all the same… what happened to uniqueness?
What happened to that mushy feeling?
We’ve become robots, no feelings, emotions peeling
We can’t differentiate between what we do and what we want
We’ve become a heartless people
But I have faith… a little
That our level of heartlessness varies
We’re not that equal
So for some of us there’s still hope
And for the rest it’s a slippery *****
Downhill…
When you realize how far down you have gotten
And stop trying to grasp onto stuff
I’ll meet you at the bottom.

Here I stand
An example of resilience
A fine example of exemplary brilliance
If I do say so myself
I’m still working on this journey I tell you
I’ve been working on it for a while
I’ve been practicing, losing balance… losing hope, getting back on that horse and perfecting my style
I wouldn’t write it if it wasn’t true
I wouldn’t be writing this if it wasn’t for you
Beloved reader
You called it infectious… though it wasn’t ‘flu’
The way I write
In situations dark
The way I ‘light’
You’re my ray of hope in this long tunnel
That keeps getting steeper through some hill
But the only elevation I feel is that of my emancipation
When we make it out… yes, when ‘we’ make it out, and you know we will
The only elevation will be that of our hands in celebration.

You know that feeling
That feeling you get when you wake up and her head is resting on your chest
That warm, happy feeling you get when she looks up at you and smiles
When she smiles
That feeling you get that makes you think ‘if life is a journey, and this is life…
Book me down for miles… so many miles’
That awesome feeling
That girl that just makes you happy, the one you would rather watch a movie with
Than go out drinking
The one that you annoyed, went home, looked in the mirror, slapped yourself a couple of times and asked “what were you thinking?”
That person that believes in you, more than you believe in yourself
You can always rely on her; you no longer do it yourself
Pun intended
But I know you know that feeling… I know you know that person
So rather than reading this and going “she’s awesome”
Go over to her place right now and tell her in person
Today I got sentimental, but sometimes in life sentiment becomes instrumental
To the creation of happy juices
Pun intended
So don’t make too many ****** choices
And end up being that person reading this, reeling…
In frustration, going… “No... I do not know that feeling.”

Sometimes I don’t write for a while
And I feel like I have betrayed someone… myself?
But when I come back I don’t try to search for a style
For I still feel like I am that same someone… myself
That friend, that poetic friend in my head
Schizophrenic? Maybe, but I’m keeping this voice here until I’m dead
It speaks volumes… I’ve missed it
When it peaks like the tallest sand dunes… like the sun, I can say ‘I’ve kissed it’
For I love the voice in my head, ‘in love’ I dare say
And no matter how long we may be parted
We are still together in a weird way
We’ve been through a lot, my voice and I
We’ve mesmerized them with wordplay
We’ve delved into hip hop and befriended the pen, both poetic in their own way
And came back with a ten point five out of ten
In July, on this eleventh day.

It's funny to live in this place
Where integrity definitely takes second place
And be lead by people who don't even have the courtesy to attempt to save face
Prancing around like nothing happened
Recently they were mentioned all over the television
As part of a major collusion... a grand conspiracy
Well, not really grand as such, for there have been bigger ones
We just saw the tip of an iceberg
That could sink this ship
And they don't even bother speaking in nice words anymore, for their tongues may slip
So they say nothing now... no comment
And pretend they didn't hear or see that
Deaf and blind to public uproar
These people would gladly be that
To see the Armenian... Russian... Kenyan 'Deputy commissionary of police'
Speak so casually and name names with such ease
Made me laugh out loud at these jokes we have for leaders
But it stops being funny when I think about all cuts we've had to make... financially
And these vampires still have the audacity to bleed us.

Like the merchant who claimed to have a spear that could penetrate anything

And a shield that nothing could penetrate

This is a paradox, and it will be loved by many

For the same reasons that many hate

As the wise young man with dreadlocks

Grows older and wiser... though baldness is his fate

He knows when to slow his pace, where haste would make him late

In due time his meekness would pay off

And they will say "His insignificance made him great."

Fly on the wall... unseen to all

Watching and laying in wait

In his principles he remains grounded, which allows him to levitate

Above the chaos

And find sanity in madness

Sanity... to calculate

To make choices, from experience of indecision

Without taking aim, to hit his target with utmost precision

A rational mind, complimented by gut feeling

Result oriented, but if they found out his method

It would probably leave them perplexed, like an honest man caught stealing.