"yas *****," I would say
Only to be dismissed away
Looking him in the eyes wondering
How dare you frown upon me
As if I'm the beast unseen
You came to my home stripped me of my joy
***** and killed my family
Holding me captive as a prison of war
How dare you frown upon me
As if I'm the beast unseen
You forced my daughter to cry
As you hauled off her last bit of hope
At least I have some dignity
Though it seems my pride has been lost deep within green
Where the blue skies don't feel darker than coal
How dare you frown upon me
As if I'm the beast unseen

When the world is your enemy
And darkness runs the bit of world you befriended
What is there left to do
It's all down hill from here
The other day I watched my best friend get gunned down by a white man
Then blamed it on me imprisoning me for eleven years
But through it all I remained mute shocked puzzled wondering
Is it because I'm black
Or is it because some other unknown reason
This man took a life and I got in trouble for it
My friend is six feet underground and I'm behind bars!
Is it because I'm black god has forsaken me
Vengeance struck my soul
As destruction clouded my judgement
What did I do?
I hate you!
Forget this world!
I'm done
Smite me down I beg thee
This world is just not meant for me

Why can't the rain be seen as beautiful
Like it asked to be the symbol of depression
Why does the world see it as being the dark Lord of the night
As if its dropping are toxic waste ready to burn us all away
Why must the rain be viewed as pure ugliness
As if what it has done for us mean absolutely nothing
Doesn't it mean something
It has watered the crops that feed us
Gave us hope when none existed
But instead of being praised like it should be...
It is viewed as the god of destruction just like its counterpart fire
Another understood element
Rain...they sing songs about it
Wishing it to go away
Disgracing its name
Again calling it,"destruction"
But the way I see it...
Us being humans have no right to be calling anyone destructive
We have caused more destruction than rain could ever imagine
So in my eyes...natures eyes
Rain is beautiful and it is we who are the uglies

My anger rustles tree branches like fallen leaves,  
and I believe the wind can find a way to blow it all away,
like a tornado,  
spinning my emotions out of control,  
wherever they go,  
they'll move mountains and make streams,  
I believe the water will boil over with doubt and rage,  
crashing over the shores in waves,  and for days I believe in the truth of the storm,  
begging the skies for more,  
a single thundercloud with drops of jealousy so pure,
and thunder made from screams of outrage and misery,  
bolts of dreams,
crooked and lost at the seams,  
I believe in the calm,  
in the eye of the storm,  
that moment of happiness you'll never remember anymore,
and hail falls in a perfect form,
frozen and hard like my heart when the skies are clear,
I fear the clouds will disappear,  
along with everything I feel,
and when the sun shines,  
I can no longer heal,
the earthquake of despair rumbles though the ground,  
and the dirt moves like a whirlwind of truth,
light of fear starts shining through,  
frightening the leaves as they crumble to the earth,
they disperse in a tsunami of fury,
telling the story of the barren tree branches that were once my soul,
stealing the emotions and madness that had once made me whole

Lipsticks, painted red
      A smile on my face,
              Not seen before,
     Take a big swig from a bottle,
Drink more and more
      Until I end up on the floor
     Finally the *memories are gone
When my sanity walks out the door

        I'm now on the ceiling,
   Though quite possibly dreaming,
My thoughts are far from clearing
            In muddled moments
    I find comfort and forget
             No longer chained
      Or to my own head in debt

Swishing the thoughts around my mind
    Like a good year of
         fine white wine
   Spitting out the rotten ones
Swallowing down a few,
        just for fun
     Intoxication at its finest,
Brazen, daring, brave and bold
           Leaving the past behind us
     Out in the bitter cold

          Frozen behind,
   No longer catching up to me
     I can stumble forward
            In my plastered euphoria
     A smile on my face
I can pick up my pace
         Audacious now, I feel
Doesn't matter how much of this is real

Reality is just in my mind
           Not easily defined
    By dreams, nightmares or ghosts
             From the past
       Reality is in this bottle,
                This pipe, or this needle
     Down to the very last
Drops of fantasy and candy
                   But ****,
           *It tastes so sweet

For years I have had poetry misconstrued
Thinking about what it was technically
Instead of thinking about what it was actually
Because technically poetry is nothing more than words on a sheet of paper
It has just been arranged in a certain way to tell a story

I remember my first days of writing poetry
Personally I thought that it was gay
And because I knew how to write it so well I questioned my sexuality
It bothered me so much in fact, there came a time I attempted to hide the forbidden skill
Ha,that didn't last very long

My first poem dates back to the year 2006,when I was in third grade.
It was ,"simply amazing", according to my teacher
I can recall because I ripped it up hoping to never see a poem again
I hated poetry with a passion due to the fact it coarsed through my veins
I didn't see another poem until the six grade

It was then I met this girl named Deja,a fanominal poet
She would always brag in our second period literature class how she was just the best
I slick had a crush on her but I'd never tell her that
She claimed I was nothing compared to her
So I laughed and wrote the poem, "Different I May Be,"

Never once other then that moment did I get her to hush
She actually began to blush a little though we pretended that never happened
Her eyes were both just wow
They spoke fierce yet sweet
I really was falling deeply for her

That day I finally opened my eyes beginning to think that poetry really wasn't gay
That it was actually a beautiful thing
Though I didn't start actually writing poetry until the end of that year,
After I read the poem,I know why the caged bird sings",by Maya Angelou
I kind of owe this rediscovery of my lost talent to Deja,again I will never admit that to her

She made me realize what poetry was actually
That it is a collaboration of both heart and soul
Using words to express emotions that were seen as taboo at a time
So Deja if by some miraculous chance you see this
I would like to say thank you for opening my eyes to the world of poetry

Wanting to hate you
I did... Yes I did
Anger and hurt like
moths swarming  my face

•••

Vulnerable, indecisive
I didn't know how to
Continue this

But...

Lost & Found
Yet again, I found myself
Anger doing nothing but
Only in bringing it to others

•••

Looking at you in admiration,
Love
Does all the difference
For my Eyes Mind & Soul