The light goes through you
No longer a reflection of your beauty
No longer an oasis for my erratic pulse
A thorn to the eye and a boiling knife to the chest
Not blinded, just vexed
Not shining but dulled
Your fire just a flicker of what it once was
The flame you lit in me now void of warmth.
The impact you had on my heart
Now nothing more than a bruise

The skilled user of words, the wizard conjurer that provoke your thoughts.          
I ought to be  sentenced to death.    
For an enlightened mind such as mine for the crime of influencing young minds
You see the Government hate visionaries like me, so they call the disciplinary, to disrupt revolutionaries, COINTELPRO, look them up if you don’t know, for all you conspiracy theorist, I am the head of realist ****, shot calling
You might as well call me Shon the abolitionist.
When it comes to such a wicked being such as me, they call to question my thought for knowledge and I tell them
As the practitioner of hard knocks, my quest for power is almost pestilent; people say knowledge is power  
But what they don’t tell you, is power comes from applying the knowledge
To acknowledge the most dangerous man in the room isn’t the man with the gun nor the thirst for power
But the man in the shrouded darkness waiting to pounce, call me Rockefeller and Rothschild.
I am almost out of time but please forgive me, my mind sits in an higher dimension
My mentality is overpriced that’s why the naïve mind is as common as head lice
As I am the sole provider to the zeitgeist.

Finding your voice
means screaming into
All the wrong places
until One day--

You hear your echo
calling your name.

Anticipation, expectations,
Inspire this dictation,
I’m hanging by a thread,
It’s tight but it won’t snap,
I should find me some foundations,
Stretch a net across to the station,
Eat a spoonful of ambivalence,
It’ll catch me should I forget my cap

People look at it from all angles,
But decisions, options strangle,
All can see the carpenter’s dead,
But there’s no footprints to and fro,
The longer that he lays there,
The less the sense remains here,
He fell into the fetal position,
And yet retained his chapeau

The affair began by the streetlights,
Like snow she was dressed in all white,
They sauntered through the cobbled streets,
Excusing it as living in the now,
But now it changes to then,
And then fails us time and again,
The stars in this globe won’t hold,
When the clock turns it over like a plough

Dame
el lapiz
y el papel
dejame
y te recuerdo
lo tanto que te quiero.

(tu eres mi poesia)

You used me for a lot of things
But I let you
Thinking you'd thank me
You never did.