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sincurlyxbaki Mar 2014
im sorry.
i feel good.
whats wrong with me?
my mirror looks nice today.
i like you.
im tired.
i've stopped praying, i need Jesus.
im a writer.
i prayed while feeling good.
i felt good when i was tired.
i stopped writing when i felt good.
i ate, i prayed, i loved.
sincurlyxbaki Mar 2014
just hit 10000 views.
thank you to all of you.

peace.
sincurlyxbaki.
sincurlyxbaki Mar 2014
why do i explain things to people when

they leave my tongue full of razor marks designed by lies?

why do i find poetry interesting if the only thing

it does to me is hurt the muscles in my fingers?

i stay up late at night, when pens stop speaking and papers stop

listening, when poets obsess over 2am.

i dont have the answers, so i wont tell you lies.

i see you in  the dark, ’cause i’ve been where you are.



my hands are fresh with scars, reminders that

im just clay and knives can easily create form

out of me.

i’ve learned that the world has accepted pain

as beauty.

i’ve learned that poets are now starting to romanticize pain.

i’ve learned that on twitter, people replace vowels with v’s & x’s

and depress themselves with sad quotes until it hurts their chests.

its quiet easy to say that the world is a mess,

feeding our brains with junk served by television sets,

believing everything the internet says,

and the only way to change this is to change our mindsets.

but as always, this is easier said.



ignorance is acceptance as a standard.

reading a book makes your eyes bleed, ’cause you’re not used to written word.

we fill tongues with mud and wash hearts in dirt.

we think money is love, and love is power, but the

only thing money can buy is tears and material possessions and empty hearts.

we see each other as black & white but we forget that aside from the

difference in pigment we’re still human.

we forget that our skin is fragile yet we still pierce one another

with 30 caliber bullets.



i dont have the answers so i wont tell you lies.

let it happen.



we think rain and thunder is a sign of a new season but

its God crying out and telling us that

we’re suffering at our own hands.



men hurt women too much nowadays, and women play games with men

nowadays and haemens start to break as much as hearts do.

and the words ‘i do’ sound like a jingle from a cereal ad,

it leaves people mad,

and people sad.



while all this happens, i’ll be out running with bears.
#teddybeartribe @teddybeartribe
sincurlyxbaki Jan 2014
I asked myself over a warm cup of tea, "what kind of beauty is there in finding mystery in yourself?"
I took a little sip, and had more thoughts.
And so I scribbled, a few words on a piece of paper.
a fine day indeed to be playing Thelonious Monk,
one of my favorite Jazz pianists.
y'know, his music has a certain type of soul to it, something inviting about it. I dunno.

with that cup of tea still in hand, I listened to the ocean dance while Monk rushed over the piano keys.

that cup of tea smelled like years of fear and peace to come.
that cup of tea reminded me of the first time I burnt my finger with a candle when I was still a kid.
that cup of tea reminded me of my first love.

it reminded me that I'm still 17, it also tasted like conversations I had with friends about girls we'd never have.
"that girl. she's the one, you'd probably have a chance with her. say something, you shy mo'fo."
but then again it wasn't about probability.

it tasted like 5AM in the morning after your first breakup.
it tasted like 4PM when you wrote your first poem.
it tasted like bitterness.

the tea tasted like my love for things that have aged.
'65 Mustangs and inked pages.
ripped jeans and new faces.
jazz music and new places.

its funny what tea can do one's mind once it burns your tongue and runs down your oesophagus to warm your lungs.

Monk's music in the background, I still scribbled words on a piece of paper.
if only this moment could linger.

cup of tea, cup of tea, what type of flavor did you leave in me?

see, when i stare at this cup, it seems as if it holds unneccessary emptiness.
but can still hold my deepest desires in liquid form - a warm cup of tea.

I probably wrote all of this after I burnt my tongue with tea.
but then again, this isn't about probability.

this is from the deep of things, with love.

sincurlyxbaki
sincurlyxbaki Dec 2013
cold uncomfortableness, like the Nile River long or the oceans emotions cold.

uncomfortableness, like a friendly stab in the back by a person you trust. but i trust no man.

cold, like a man who rapes a young girl with a bright future and decides to mess it up for her because he had to satisfy his needs.

cold uncomfortableness, like a man who *** with a woman but then decides to run away because his father taught him the motto of life is: ditch the mom, leave the baby. cold.

uncomfortableness, like the big people in government who use tax money to buy fast cars, expensive houses. they then forget the people that got them there.

cold, like a 5 year old who gets shot fearlessly.

cold uncomfortableness, like fake gangsters who shoot innocent people because they feel drugs & their needs are bigger than any man on this planet.

uncomfortableness, like human greed which leads a man to be controlled by money. but what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?
sincurlyxbaki Dec 2013
like ****** driven samurai's & cerebral poisoned psychopaths we slay each other with words.
i choke you with my words and you hang me with yours, but we don't die.
instead all that pain lingers at the back of our eyes and it causes us to see red.

like sharp blades running through bruised skin from an injured soul, we silently dissect wounded minds. every one fights a battle.
s(words) are potent, carefully wield yours.

like lost swords in the wind.

im a samurai poet. i use words as oxygen to help you breath and by reading these words you breath again.

i use words as medicine to transfer positive energy to you, samurai reader.

im a samurai ****. im a lost blade in the wind.

i use words like Martin Luther King and set free, i. i set myself free with my own words, i can because im a writer.
words are freedom. words are captivity. words are destruction. words are peace. the tongue is mighty powerful.

i use words to tell dispirited women that their beautiful because they grew up with the idea that beautiful is factory made products. the idea of beautiful is you.

i use words to tell hurt men that they can cry because they grew up being told tigers don't cry. crying is human, and i was told tears are wisdom distilled.

i use words to tell the youth they can be themselves because they grew up thinking acting like a fake gangster is all there is to life. the world is bigger than that.

im a samurai poet. a samurai ****. these words are blades. **** life.

stay samurai cool.
sincurlyxbaki Nov 2013
I cannot deny that I really love you.
This hurts me more than it will hurt you.
I fight with my notepad every night because of you.
I long for your touch each and every day.

I truly cannot deny that I really love you.
The fact that you don't know, hurts.

This will hurt me more than it will hurt you.
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