Self education is key
Reputation is 'me'
Has little to do with 'we'
Influenced more by what's going on inside, as opposed to 'around' me
These experiences we go through
Pleasant... or unpleasant
These extreme lengths we go to
To survive
Camel in harsh desert
Just inspire our stories
To evolve into legend
For true travellers journey
They know nothing about 'dead ends'
so...
The next time you think you know somebody well enough to discuss him
Remember,the only one that knows him that well...
Is just 'Him'.

Practice makes perfect
So perfect needs practice
Perfection comes not to anybody that lacks this...
Little thing they call 'practice'
We take breaks
From our chosen trades...
A breather
But can't stay away too long lest we lose our touch
Get overwhelmed, try to dig deep...
But end up using spoons as spades
Frustrating
Even to the reader
To witness the writer 'fall off'
The saddle
Because he was too busy trying to catch up with the rest
As opposed to being the leader
You are either... one or the other
But then again, you could be neither
The guy in between
Ham in a sandwich
If you fall in that category
Then you urgently need to pull a 'mind switch'.

Feel the urge
The need
To stealthily glide through the night
To 'feed'
Allow my instinct, to gracefully move me
I'm the main character in my own vampire movie
A potential threat to society
Like a psycopathic sixteen year old just released from juvie
The difference is
My charm pulls you in, attracts you
Before the predator in me violently attacks you
I'm a hunter, masculine not feminine
It's my night
I stalk prey, so I can't afford to sparkle
This isn't "Twilight"
I'm the deadliest fantastic legend
Or so they think
But what if I was real?
I'd  be "Blade"
Edward Cullen is gayer than "Pink".

Pen to paper
Poetry comes forth
Ideas as weird as if south’s become north
You with me still? Or have I lost you?
Can’t wait for you to catch up, I write how I’m supposed to
As unnerving as black, as relaxing as sky blue
Those are just but two things these words can do
I don’t see myself as a poet
I’m more of a wordsmith
I’m crazy, we all know it, but don’t you just love how my words split
The page into two, or three… or four?
Or more?
You’re in my mind, enjoy your tour
I’m rarely sure
Of what I’m going to write about
But I’m always assured, deep down I know
I will write it out.

Behind every jest
There's a truth
Behind every truth
There's a real rapper spitting it in the booth
Behind that
There's an inspired heart
Probably edged on by experiences, lessons, frustrations and hurt
Before this
He was concieved.... then born
This also was preceeded by him being dirt
According to religion, he is God's creation
He views himself as His "greatest" creation
With the ability to school a whole nation
Blessed enough to be down to earth
Enough to know his worth
His place, his role in all of this
So he has cut down on certain things... yes, even cannabis
He didn't say "quit"... don't misinterpret
And this is my verse in
I've been referring to myself in the third person.

How many people saw an apple drop before Newton?
And probably named it something else...
Like "blaaaah"?
Who came up with the idea of wishing upon a shooting star?
Another man
Another scar
Forever visible, on the skin of an independant thinker?
Man made idieologies, either complimenting
Or supressing personalities
Do not let education ruin your originality
Do not
Be ****** into mob psychology
Like dogs
Pick that which is beneficial to you
To the rest
Yes, be skeptic
Not everything they teach is true
An education is one of the most important things a man can do
I mean 'can get'
See? Right there? I messed with you
And turned a fact into a much more ineresting read
I owe that to being educated
Also to the fact that I think out of the box
These words, I don't 'write'
I 'feel', I 'bleed'
Education is overrated, and at the same time underappreciated
Makes no sense?
Indeed
It's not supposed to
I'm just saying that I'm not opposed to
The idea of learning something new
As long as it is something you want to do
Or something beneficial to you
At the same time, not everything they tell you is true
Self education is more of what I do
These days
Change these ways, the system put in place
Stay intelligent
Mind's independantly placed
Knowledge, creativity, confidence... straight face
I call it 'streetelligent'.

I want to shoot someone
I want to shoot myself
I need just one gun... one
Two bullets would really help
I want to push you over a bridge
I want to ******* hang myself
Lion fighting off crocodile
Insanity? Or mentally versatile?
When thoughts force themselves into your head
Instability, in and out of bed
When the fine line between what's sane and what's not, becomes a grey area
Wouldn't you rather be dead?
Really though?
You could turn your imaginary place into a play area
Just sort of "go nuts"... macadamia
Walk around with your head held high
Saying "I'm going to slay me a... dragon today"
Or smack the stripes off a zebra, then head **** a giraffe
Enough!... ****, I'm beginning to scare myself
Next time I write a poem
I should ******* prepare myself
S'nuts.

A walk through thirsty land
Breathe... step... breathe... step
Dunes of towerring, rusty sand
With each step, breathe... step
No rules, no lanes... no need to 'keep left'
Or walk in any particular direction... but that which you choose
Too hot by day to play, by night... too cold to snooze
It is beautiful, in an evil way
Impressive, but can ****
It giveth less than it taketh away
That bone piercing, nightly chill
It's getting closer, time grinds teasingly on
The dunes seem to get taller, teasing the sun
Whose heat, direct from sky to forehead
Squeezes my pores...
Breathe... step... breathe... breathe... step
And robs my body of its last bead of sweat
Breathe... breathe... breathe... step
Attempt to swallow saliva... feel like I'm gurgling on glass
Breathe... stop
No tree... open land... sea of sand... parched
Breathe
Try to reassure myself, in a raspy monotone
Wish for one thing right now, not water... chlorofoam
So I can pass on, and not feel it
The desert's friends are up and about in the dark, cheering "**** it! **** it!"
I try to ill will it... try to hold on
But this warrior of nature's choke hold, grip... proves too strong
To fight
So... tonight
I decide "It's over, I'm gone"
I can hear the afterlife call
Out to me
Pick myself up... Breathe... step... stumble... fall.

Sway the right way, while going wrong
Delivery's weak, but his talk is strong
What's the point?
To talk lip? Impress?
To act, walk and talk slick, but the reality is that you repress
That which you need to express
The right to 'speak your mind', against 'pleasing them' takes second place
That's not right?
For a man not to be able to hold his own, stand his ground... or, if necessary
Fight
Dignity's hidden like a shadow in the night
That's what you get for conforming to the system, being 'proper'... a piece of the puzzle
Like a dog roaming the mean streets in a muzzle
I pity these people
Who always look up to others
And will never know how it feels  to be better... or even
Equal
Sad people.

What is this?
I feel a hint of the same pain business
Thought I was passed that... apparently not
All this fortune, I've 'apparently' got
Not
Anger in my throat, pain... burningly hot
I'm tired of it
Beginning to think it won't leave
I need to make like  tree and...
Branch
Alcohol breakfast... cigarette lunch
Don't get your ******* up in a bunch
As frustrating as the financial crunch
When all the big fish did was "Munch! Munch! Munch!"
What financial crunch is this?
Affecting only the one with a legit business
I'm mad at the television
Depicting our childish, corrupt, political situation
Yes, that's the definition
Of pain.

Self analysis?
Or self induced creative paralysis?
There's a fine line
Between correcting, perfecting... and losing your spine
Mine
Is a critical look at what I do
And it's a positive, laid back method too
Go with the flow
Make you read it quicker/faster/sprinting
Michael Johnson... or, slow... mo'
"These new generation poets, they just don't know no more"... They say
The older generation, fail to understand how we play
With words... swim with the sharks
And glide with birds
Dangerous sometimes... poetic cliffhanger
Still stronger
Faith is unbreakable... diamond
lasts longer
You see?
It's 'kicking', like a thousand ninjas...
And Bruce Lee.

They call me a loose cannon... I call them "target"
To be deep is what I choose... canyon
As bright as a star gets
As opposed to being dull
Like others I know, that are as cheerful as a skull
For the system, won't slave
I'm the one that will be doing a dance in my grave
Truth hits at them from all over, tsunami
Tidal wave
Dead men tell no tales... they say
I'm breathing, so I must be alive I guess
Which means that it's my duty to stand up today
I'm bleeding these words, less
For the sake of trying to impress
Them
Than to address
Them
Speak my mind... and bravely express
Myself... and point of view
Not afraid of the three fingers that point back at me
Every time that I point at you
Yes
Loose cannon
Poetic and artistic insanity in excess
At its best.

It gets deeper... wider
It's a good feeling... to know that I can confide in her
She's always been there
Even when I thought she wasn't
When I thought I'd kicked her out of my life completely
Self righteously so
But just like before... I again fell for her
That unfortunate incident, years ago... her mistake
'My' **** take
Could not be forgiving
My hard headedness, probably as a result of hard living
Feeling like I was 'gangsta'
She loved me and all my 'rasta'...
Tendencies
And I wasn't empathetic enough to accept an apology
Turned her politely away, silently insulting her with ****** street terminology
I was a *****
So we grew apart quick
But still remained friends
Though feelings between us rendered us 'strained ' friends
Until it got real
Had to accept how I feel, and forgive her
And that fondness rekindled
Into that which it was
Pause... fast forward... some dumb person posts a
Comment  on facebook, afraid that I'd lost her
Scary... but it opened my eyes after so long
To realise, with 'Shee' is exactly where I belong.

I do not usually indulge in "red"
Mostly white or crystal clear
More than a sip, something like a big bite I take... yes, I miss my beer
But this is like... a taste of paradise
This... I like
As suggested by hammered eyes
It's seductive... like a mirage deep in the desert
It's like a fair step on a steep hillside, pleasant
Those that indulge in it together, are birds of a feather
It's like a sly friend, "there for you" no matter the weather
Then smacks you upside your head the following morning
It's like a trumpet in your head, and your voice of reason following... moaning
"oooh...why didn't you stop when you realized morning was dawning?"
Now a headache is spawning
Your hung over, your eye
Just as red
As what it is I'm drnking... It's wine.

A cold warmth
A warm cold
A comforting embrace from the Almighty
A reassuring gesture that shouldn't be taken lightly
When God talks, He needs no words
Even on long walks, the journey becomes less hard
When He takes your hand, and walks you through
As long as you stay real, sincere and true
He drops you hints, a subtle clue
And watches... when you winced, He knew
A warm cold
A cold warmth
The wind around speaks of blessings bound
To come
Inspires you to meditate... to hum
And fear, it shrinks up like washed up cotton
Your destiny is so on point, you're "spot on"
As much as the last few steps to the peak may seem hard
Remember... when God speaks to you, He needs no words.

I'm random, I know
But random is something that I appreciate being... and that's why I grow
As I maximise my verbal flow
Without thinking, much more powerful than speaking
This written stuff never fails to show
That I can go... to lengths
No poet has ever gone before
More for the sake of being real to myself, than for show
Different is how I go about it
Hard to concieve just how I would ever be able to flow without it
This 'random'
This thing that I do
As I put forward my thoughts to you
Always true, never overdone
I would emphasize on two true points, before I ever trip over one
Infact, I would never trip over one
Because I don't lack this... thing they call skill
Product of a combination of practice... and ill will
Crazy is what some may call it
Phase me?... No, none may foil it
My plan
Still remains greater than
The majority... words dripping with controversy and personality
On another level, who's talking equality?
I don't overthink
And still express it to the brink
My idea
With no fear
Get it clear
It's real poetry going on right here.