If you condemn
Bring forth realities
Whatever prickles inner self
If you can
Don't condemn life
You condemn God
In doing so
I have become an atrocity
It's possible I'm being ******* myself
But that's only because no one else ever is
There are people who criticize me
But only my actions
Not who I AM inside
They refuse to see the truth
Bring your camera please
O' my media, O' my Press
Bring your camera please
Come and praise me
Praise my looks
Praise my dress
Praise my deeds
Praise my voice
Praise my style
Praise my mind
Praise my actions
Never bother for money
You are my media
Just praise me, Jump
Sing and dance for me
Play to my tune
Just play it repeatedly
I will pay you enough
Much more than you think
I never use to pay a dime
From the pockets of mine
I often pay from others pocket
I feel I have the right to do so
I never pay to my wife
I never pay to my children
I never pay to my family
I never pay to my friends
I earn and earn and earn
I spend, spend and spend
But not on anyone else
I spend only for myself
Though I often take selfies
But please don’t call me selfish
My heart truly beat for others
My nose truly breathes for other
My kidney purifies for others
My liver work for others
My eyes see for others
My ears hear for others
My leg walk for others
My mind think for others
I am the divine soul
Only I am the divine soul
If you fail to praise me
If you dare to criticize me
Then you are not a press
You are not a media
Then what you are?
You are fake news
Your Camera is for me. Note it. Its not a joke. I am serious. Not dead serious. I live serious. That's all. Simple.
“It’s becoming tougher to love you every time you hurt me. It’s becoming tougher to trust you every time you betray me. It’s becoming tougher to be vulnerable every time you exploit me. It’s becoming tougher to lend you my heart when it feels like an open wound in your hand. You taunt me every opportunity you find, brag about my flaws occasionally, criticize and act cold at times. I am tired of visiting the restroom as though it is my sanctuary during occasions, shedding tears and walk out numbing my heart. We ought to be encouraging, loving and supporting one another and not pushing the other down to rise. But the heartaches are becoming often and old wounds are being reopened. It’s becoming tiring to experience it over and over again. I guess for it to not hurt anymore, it shouldn’t matter anymore.”
Before you criticise
yourself for the love parted with others
that have gone to vain
gaze at the moon that has been there
embracing everyone with the shaft of light
but never able to retrieve the love from others.
to your own misery.
to your own false idol.
No love to be found there
You can’t beguile us
For the swirling voices,
no longer bask in our glow
If you tell gold it's worthless,
It might believe you.
But does saying that
Make it true?
Is worth defined
By what's verbalized?
If you criticize
Does worth minimize?
Words are words,
Not always true.
But gold is gold!
And you are you.
Don't weigh your worth
On what you're told.
Despite it's value
Even some dislike gold.
Strangers creep and float through the streets
Spirits filled with experiences
Weighted by regrets
Or elevated by happiness
Each one with a past,
They are close, but their thought seem afar
There´s one who catches your eye
Her hair is badly dyed,
Many would take time to criticize
But maybe something happened one day
Hopeful at the saloon for a change
When a call about a soul ´s demise
Took her out of the place
Forgetting about everything else
Not prepared for a loss
A mom dying with no cause
Who would stop to think about hair?
Would you see her in the same way again?
Now that you´ve opened your brain,
Now that you´ve dared to wonder?
Maybe presently, the deep blue curls
Match better with the sense
She might have felt that cold and dismal day
Maybe she should change to a red
Strong scarlet implying the anger
The feels she may get at night
Expecting mom back when she just won’t.
But I might be wrong,
My mind can have floated way too far
Trying to answer something I will never know
The history of the unknown.
Maybe I am just wrong with my guess
And she just has the worst tincture taste.
When I´m in the streets I like observing people and guessing their past, creating conjectures about their history. This popped in my mind when I was on the bus and I felt the need to write it down. Hope you enjoy it.
I got bars,
it's not about fancy cars or Lil Wayne rapping about Mars.
So far I am marred and scarred by false charm,
burned and charred that we are stuck in this dung tar.
It's about understanding we are stuck in the under standings so understand this,
can bring raze as I raise and rise to clear out these rinse and repeat Rhymes.
I don't care about the money or women.
Will your Rap make a difference.
Only a few got the conscious to talk about love.
The rest is a pile of **** I put to the side and shove.
The broken images float inside my head.. drifting away.. time take me out of the frame the mistakes i've made never seemed to fade out of your head (as it is) you were always too quick to criticize you left with all that i was inside i guess the mistakes i've made never seemed to fade out of your head..