Generation Information:
Running 'round, drugs in cases
Even if ya hate ya placement
Time moves faster with some patience
Seniles claim *conspiracy;
Wonder what kinda bombs we makin'
FOURTEEN MILLION DIVORCED PARENTS
Raising kids who feel forsaken
Walking round with Glocks, hoping they don't get blammed next,
No Christmas anymore;
Santa Claus is hooked on *Xanax
And once you get outta Hell
Get framed and put in jail
Its hard to crawl from the bottom back up to the place you fell
We say we work in retail
But shoes ain't what we sell,
So please cover your ears
Don't listen to what we tell.
Children taught to be pitiless
**** anybody with viciousness
Shot too high
Expecting adults
And that's where the militias went
Murdered by a lonely kid who got no Love
Trained to pull a weapon if push comes to shove
Look up in the sky
They made Ravens outta doves
*Sinned so much, afraid to ask forgiveness from above

I was born in a generation where I'm told self-hatred is no issue
I was born in a generation that says girls are pink and boys are blue
I was born in a generation where I'm told I can think by myself
But only if I think like everyone else
I was born in a generation that prefers a mirror over a book
I was born in a generation that only cares about how I look
They tell me body over soul
And popularity is your highest goal.

Well,
I was born in a world with seven oceans and five continents.
I was born part of a species that searches for answers.
I was born alongside people who fight for those who can't.
I was born with a voice and no fear to use it.
I was born with a mind of my own
And I refuse to submit myself to dull standards.

The death of me, will probably be, self-inflicted or come unnaturally. /
My generation has metamorphosized to believe this ideology filled with lies, and grown to despise all things good, all things right/
Holiness is but a mythically unattainable virtue only seen with wise eyes/
And me with my wide eyes open couldn’t even see past sunrise/

Many times I hid behind my Christian face/
My black skin speaking tales of my Christian race/
But then straight after church my rehearsed day begins/
Go to see “that” girl and write Haikus on her skin/
A 3 bar poem about why she’s the one/
Taking hours to come home before the day is done/

The death of me will probably be this doomed society/
Digging pits for their own graves with their words of blasphemy/
Drugs lay waste to what remains of their minds/
Trying to convince them that God exists is like defusing a land mine/
Who am I to try and help, I’m still suffering the same/
Can’t even control the thoughts flooding in my brain/
Had to write this out just to try and stay sane/
Thinking is speeding up now, I’m like that electric train…/

And then I see it/

Tomorrows generation smokes drinks and takes drugs/
Looking everywhere for things to fill the void left by love/
Searching everywhere except above /
They are scanning the sea for a raven not a dove/

This is todays tomorrow, where the truth isn’t believed/
And the generation of that time will choose to live disobediently//

What is it with this generation of lost souls? Do you ever just sit and think, where did we lose the part that made us whole?
Somewhere along the way, hating love and loving hate became the forefront of everything we say.

Somehow it became the generation of kids who probably won't realize they're adults until, one day, they look in the mirror and see that they're 45, still in the same pair of designer jeans and expensive shoes they could barely even afford. And the only reason they bought them was to post a picture on instagram just to get false sense of validation from people they barely even know.

We lost sight of the importance of being an advocate of self.
When we have money, that's our only weath.
What about wealth in mind, body, spirit?
This generation would rather snort lines for an out of body experience.
How sad.
The generation that will laugh watching others cry, just to fit in.
What, exactly, are you trying to fit into?
What is it really, that prevents you from being in-tune?
Why the moon isn't as interesting as that little corner of doom in a messy room, while you have no desire to bloom.

I want so badly for this generation to be better, together.
To treat one another like sister and brother -
It's time for everyone to blow their cover.
Take off the mask, they're no longer needed.
Be the future, because we are. Become what you want to be seeded.
It's okay to cry or to ask for help. Put your pride aside, go inside to find that real wealth.
I challenge you to be better.
Look yourself In the mirror and surrender.
I wish you love and peace through all of your endeavors.

Love.
- L.G.

I can see the glint of your new car
the banging of speakers from afar
But why are you throwing a fist to this new guy? You're so good at making people cry

Gold grillz, so chic, full of style!
Don't trip me with your Gucci shoes
This isn't a game where I have to lose

Turnnnn up! ***** and *****
What a cool party! Popping pills
Rainbows and unicorns in the sky
My my, looks fun but sorry
you're out of your mind

Ohhh, new acrylic nails?
So how many minions
tagging on that tail?
Okay, that's it.
I'm taking my ship for a sail
Because this land's no longer a fairytale

Yo mama so... what?
I'm so not good in rhymin'
not even rappin'
**** man, nobody even see me rollin'
But I'm watchin' and ohhh,
I already see it comin'

Drama queens and jocks
taking the shiny floor
I can't stand this scene anymore
Looks like an asylum, finding a cure

But hey! Let's go grab some
drinks and a popcorn
To remind you, we're not going
to watch some piece of ****
Just sit back and relax ma homie
This ain't a sad movie
but all we need to do is mourn

This is my American Spirit
Though I am loathe, but deserved to hear it
This is my generation in a long, sour drag:
Bohemes and hipsters, the self-important type
Self-serving directness with subtle insouciance
Self-righteous without e’er scents of conviction
Qualities, to all, vogue slimming befit
This, this is my American Spirit.

I’ll be the equalizer in a furtive game of chess
And acquaintance, its partner, arbitrating
I’ll wear the habit of means and humility
An ashen cherry, flicked, waiting to be
The pyrrhic finite ember and pastiche memory
Escape is apparent in discontinuity, my
Means to ravel a courser bond in someone,
As only a blush reminder only when they all clear it
Yes, this is my, my American Spirit.

We’ll have a game of butting desires
‘Tween all those appetites and some self-respect
Only, I know, to lose out in the end.
Is there a place for dignity to prevail
Or charm in an attempt likely to fail?
Can there be eyes open, minds or thought
To gentle pride its combatant ‘gainst
Unconscious abuses: yea or not?
But I will know irony as means to an end
Turned cheek from machination
That I can do, I can pretend
When the veil may be lifted—that I fear it
This, this is my American Spirit.

Of course I enable, for the cynosure, the dissonances
Supplant for fraternity fraternal-ligature
Too obvious is resolve ‘neath shaw of fleeting smoke
My own wants impeded, kept at a distance.
For, oh, Fortune! How you have written
Some conscience to mend it to others kept calm
A charity in practice as this cigarette is long
While vice, in all aspects, is the most correct wrong
But hummed out in truth as a fascist, he ought
I’ll turn to a tonic of strength to delude
That pretense and pride the conscience denude.
In some be it strong in others enthralled
Whilst ******* our prayer beads of looking-glass selves
Quietly burning the vestigial gods
That brought us a new light or perspective on things
And though we are loathe, we despise to hear it,
This, this is our American Spirit.

We bumped in the street
Now her ring is down the sink
The baby, all smiles

Silence surrounds                                                        ­    The sun still shines
but loneliness cannot exist                                               on this perfect day
Not in a place                                                            ­            except, too often,
where time never quits.                                                       no children play.
It's unfortunate                                                      ­                 The empty park
that bit by decaying bit                                                    beyond these walls
our generations keep                                                             cries in memory
losing grip.                                                            ­             of laughs and falls.
It's a terrifying thought that                                                             ­ But wait,
when asked "what time is it?"                      does hope approach at dawn?
it'll seem foreign and insane                               He pauses to finish a text..
to glance at my wrist.                                                    And then he is gone.

For a generation labeled as "Reckless" we only seem to be reckless to ourselves.

It's one thing to say, it's another to do. We have become a generation of sayers forgetting that words mean little without action.