The feeling that I give you is one of long hailed and expected love. That word, L-O-V-E, it's possibly the one emotion that can't be suppressed, I came from Selma, a slim that;s mildly better than the ghettos and projects of Chicago. But you know that, you're of the same background, and yet we still find an above classiness inside ourselves.
This is real, more real than Farrakhan, and hated and tampered with just as much. No dream can be as straight-forward, a poet is a poet, but when word cun meets form sway, electricity is formed.
What people mean is to sneak away and snipe us from afar, gunning what we have down so that the movement fails permanently. They don't know, they can't know, and so they walk around un-enlightened and dreams lose their appeal to them.
I had also forgotten love, being tossed around in usage and riddled with untold guilts, but you spared my soul, you chilled my heat and made me the perfect temperature. You are my regulator.
I gave all when I gave my heart, but you substantially replaced it with your energy. It wasn't enough to you? It was to me, and that's all that really counts now.
They wonder what reason you have to smile, tell them that you're awake. Tell them that you've finally jumped down the rabbit-hole, and it's not as deep and scary as they've claimed
someone wrote me a note-poem a while back, I figured it would only be right to respond as The Poetic Justice
