deadly freedom.

i’m deadly. you’re deadly.

freedom isn’t deadly.

many people died for freedom.

so much freedom is wasted because humans are dying inside.

i’m left here to write.

deadly freedom.

freedom done died, my child.

in death, there is freedom.

with freedom comes death.

i write because there is nothing left.

deadly freedom.

death is bag of garbage, young man.

don’t die inside because you want to attain freedom.

freedom lied. death lurks behind.

you have always been free. death is but a short sleep.

your soul is a kite, let it run free.

run free.

freedom is deadly & beautiful.

She loved me.

That's all I needed.

superpowered was he,
person of the people,
carried a voice and the powee to lead.

see, his voice was iron fists
that cornered the lying
and hopeless rich
and richly left hope for those
who never had the strength to cope.

he was master of the pen.
leader of those wrongfully sent to the Pen.
he carried similes and metaphors on his shoulders, told his people they cannot hold us.

we have trained far too long to forget we're soldiers.

he had a dream but before that he had
to see beyond failure.
there is no such thing as failure only feedback.

he had to feed life back into the
ears that once heard and
voices that once spoke word.
see, his word became uplifting hands,
the brains that paved way for a master plan.

a master who planted back into once was desolate land.

his voice was iron fists.

she was a single mother,
mother of three,
children had no father figure
all of them had to grow up trying
to figure out what father means to them.
she was tired of men whistling and tripping
over her big behind.
see, she held on her hands a university degree
seems her life was stuck on day volunteering
and night waitressing.

all she ever wanted was a man who would
sweep her off her feet and be a leader to her
kids.

no luck, all she ever met were *******,
pimps and hustler all who had the intention
to bust a nut on her.

so the black unicorn sang, mama i need
your prayers, mama i need God's hands.
pray for me again, again and again.

night light's light shines too bright on
these electricity bills and the landlord
dont even care how she feel.
said, "if you laid on this table any time for me, you
wont need to worry about the rent, boo"
so she did it.

every time he touched her, he ripped off
parts of her spirit.

so the black unicorn sang, in jazz clubs while
the kids stayed with grandma. she sang
a piece of mind just to get a peace of mind.

she was tired of being told she was beautiful
because every finger laid on her was a *******
to her beautiful skin, queen.

she was tired of "im not ready","its not you, its me".
she was tired of wearing her heart on her sleeve.

The Black Unicorn still sings.

why do you follow me in the light?
and leave me again the dark?

i like to play a game with my shadow.
i call it hide and seek.

sometimes in the night, when the stars come out to play
you come out too.
and when i need you the most, you're nowhere near to be seen.
this goes on everyday, our continuous routine.

see, what if i lost you?
would i lose a bit of gravity?
or would i stop existing?
some say that you only come in good times, some say that you're the reason
i am dreaming.

i think you have another life as a jazz man, a saxophonist because when
you are not around, i hear every type of sound. i hear crazy jazz music,
and piano melody lines and maybe thats your life.

why do you follow me in the light?
and leave me again in the dark?

i am just a young fellow who likes to question his shadow.

dear friend,

today I’m writing a letter to you and me, but its not necessarily for me since i already know what this encasing of sentences shall hold.

right now, I’m listening to Little Dragon – Twice. twice times two. i figured i should write this letter because i am afraid of the power of the tongue so i write because words have a lesser effect on paper/internet/webpages.

i need to ask you something – what is my purpose? i was told to never leave home without it but i can’t seem to find it. I once went out to see people with my purpose in my pocket and it kinda fell out so i was wandering if you can help me look for it. i know we live distances apart but what it went to find you so you can find me?

i am 1 in every thought that you might think and you might think i am crazy or insane or weird but its true because it’s the same thing with you.

people keep saying ‘be you’ and i say it too but how do you tell someone to be themselves if you in the morning wake up looking like the people around you. there is no ‘real *****’ or ‘the real me’, its an endless line of recycled personalities.

i learned that i am a human being. that might seem strange but i not many people know that they are human, they are so focused on impressing and keeping up with nothing that its taking their everything.

i learned that God shaped tears the way he shaped raindrops but he did not create rainbows to come out of our eyes because he wanted to remind us that whatever struggle, pain, shame we’re only human and that is ok. that is good.

and i hope you realise that i write in lowercase. this is how i make myself feel good.

i learned that my voice is voiced through written word and the only way i can get you to listen is to have you read.

i know that you’re a human, with a face and a body and a soul. and that Heaven is watching over you.

i know that you’re 1 in every thought that i think. right now, I’m listening to Little Dragon – Twice. i strike a heart with an arrow and a bow, whatever you take from me surely you will forever know. you and i will forever glow.

i don’t want to be called a writer (because too people now use this ‘title’ to compete/impress and art to me isn’t competition or impression) . we can use it for reference, but you should know that i am merely a kid who constructs sentences for a living. steady living.

i know that politicians tell people the ‘truth’ and i wrote that in apostrophes because I was trying to be sarcastic.

i fell on my head but i didn’t lose.



sincurly,

me.

tutankhamun, children of God we're all kings

set aside all the differences, we all sing

the same song and in Heaven we all belong

they say love is kind and eternal

but i find journals filled with hate and words written uncareful

like a green paper filled tongue of a greedy man's sermon.



streets are breathing diseases and faces change like seasons

love is running low and love is hiding underground waiting

for the world to play better tunes.

dont you think its better to, to better you, run through fresh land

and look on better views?

as an artist you're king. tutankhamun.



tutakhamun, children of Life you're all kings.

i sit and wish for a better day where better ways are

better made and clouds start showering us with better rain.



as an artist you're a king. tutankhamen, children of Love you're all kings.