square-up marys,
It’s junior year, in the ivie,
we’re gambling for big-chips.
so gambate, do-it-big!
It's time, buck-up or labron.
if you bunny rouble
homeskillets will hook-it-up
lovems juju
.
.
slang…
girlogue = conversation between girls that guys can’t understand
square-up = get ready
marys = bookish and lovable girls of wit and looks
ivie = ivy league
big-chips = high stakes, high risk
gambate = Japanese word: 'Try your best!!'
do-it-big = take things to the next level
buck-up = rise to a challenge, to do something others are unable to
labron = fail miserably at the last second
bunny rouble = have trouble
homeskillets = friends
hook-it-up = help you out
lovems = sending you love
juju = good luck
.
.
(Get ready, you bookish and lovable girls of wit and looks,
it’s junior year, in the ivy league,
and we’re gambling for high stakes.
So try your best, take things to the next level!
It's time, to rise to a challenge and do something others are unable to
or fail miserably at the last second.
If you have trouble
your friends will help you out
I'm sending you love, good luck.)

I should've known from the first ride,
that I would be falling fast.
I should've felt it from my first fall,
that your show must go on.
I should've known from the first rodeo,
that should've been the last.
I should've felt it from my first trot,
that I'm better off riding alone.

I should've known you couldn't choke the horn,
but you were all but a yellow-belly.
I should've watched how you 'let her rip',
yet a horse is all of my riches.
I should've believed you don't want no cahoot,
but I rode for you 'til dawn while hungry.
I should've watched you ride to the sunrise,
yet I am left chasing sunsets.

But I am still the greatest,
with or without a lily liver cahoot.
I am the best, from east to west,
a taste from my lips would prove it's true.
I am the lone star that shines the brightest,
with or without your hat on, you'll be blinded.
I am all of the gold that they all rush to,
the legend they call 'light at the end of the tunnel'.

You should be sorry, oh you should be sad,
all you would be is a runaway robber.
Because I could've been your brokeback god
now I would be everything but your lover.
I put my hat down to say sorry for being your bandit,
Now I ride to where the lights would welcome me,
far away from all the grime, dirt and strife
They all cheer and whistle and holler my name,
while you weep that your whole life,
let alone your morning rides will never be the same.

"But let me tune you the live about life's simulation,
that assimilates one's worth. Poetry's code isn't of ones
and zeroes, but of all lines and words"
Says the wit of a coloured oan wanting to chuff the girls

It's all about the honeys, and maybe some sweet
success of hustling for a little extra money

Taking a stand on every stanza, I grew up to different standards
Unlike the hood rapper clutching the 48 hammer,
I was taught in my hood how to hold a 48 spanner
I have my odds in odes; every heavy breath in each
coma—not so common
Given the stereotype of dealing and robbing
To steal your stereo if the right type,
and best to drive with caution

A dark skinned coloured
fitting in with the blacks by appearance
Accents do tend to change ears intently hearing
Whites think I'm that way out of a private school fashion
But I did at times hang out with the wrong crowd,
at times on weekends smoking **** and relaxing

And yes I'm actually coloured; to those of you asking
Hit you with a "hey what's up, what's happening"
Don't mind me asking questions with this sort of coloured accent
"Yoo what's the story," we start our conversations
in the morning. A different kind of breed Godsent

I don't force how I speak
But if it disturbs the peace
I'll change my tone of speech
And find solace in writing another poetry piece

                                            @the Coloured poet

david was warning me, i didn't listen
instead i kept on running towards you
controlfreak of the netherworld, goon
my life is like a fairy tale, shimmering

invention and glory, similarly
psychopathic word play, baby doll
schizoprenic flow, i have to write
standing ovation for my family

some people have double standards
sweetlove tried to correct me;
hosting a contest about racism
playing grammar police, she was like:

"could you edit this horrible slang?"
no, it's simply the voice of many people
i demasked your entire outfit, kiddo
never ever will you hear back from me

once upon a time, i grew up, now i'm huge
tall, fat, dope, fresh, i'm *******
adjectives for my people to subsist
my life's a motion picture, get it baby

pipi langstrumpf zöpfe, du lächerliche
throw some german into the mix and be real
dinosaurs are chasing me, as long as i'm on it
paranoia guardians, copycat killers, word

livelong sessions, i'm not hiding myself
behind the mask is a good-hearted sicko
a sick, good-hearted person, no doubt
broad-shouldered and i stick my chest out

discipline keeps the mind focussed
a sick laughing in the background
rivers of knowledge, psychology

i got your back if you got mine
ancestors stole my land, my brain
existence revolves around dollars

you don't know the voices in my head
they are trying to control me, kid
how can they spot my very location?

i was born in a dump, my father a drunk
my momma died during my birth; my fault?
let me blow up all the golden buildings

my mind be the place where i make plans
people told me that "slang" was "horrible"
nobody has to like that, you feel me?

my skin color is black and white, you know?
don't let them get into my head, **** voices
can i walk the streets freely? who trusts me?

golden opportunities all over the place
don't ask a nameless what his name is
he will never tell you but shoot someone

it's simply not wise, we want justice
when your heart is turning ice cold
hour of the *******, hour of the sucker

the bassline trembles, i'm shivering
females are entering my safe house
armed with prejudices and dishonor

i'm already dead, words chocked me
too much poetry, nowhere to go
**** this end, i will come back!

"hell yeah" changes into...






"heaven yeah"

Lifeless
You lay there
Dead and cold

Touches
Light flicks
Dry and rough

Quiet
Not a sound
Scream nor praise

Question
What is wrong
Flaccid and limp

Horror
Hands are filth
Unwanted intruders

Recoil
Shake in guilt
Truth stabbing tears

It ain’t like ahm a teacher ner nuthin.
Ahm jess a regular person, nothin spayshul
Ah ain’t no docterr of rocket science
Ahm jess a working guy, and kinda playful.
Ah half tah admit, ah do get things wrong
And sometahms ah can make a big mess
But ah do have minny, minny good points
And ahm a rilly good person, irregardless.

But things like writin’ readin’ and
Readin’ writin’ and sech lack that stuff
Ah stopped carin’ ‘bout at twelve
‘Cause ah found it more than kinda tuff.
Ah mean, it ain’t lack ah ain’t never
Gunna need to know reedickaluss stuff lie cat.
Ahm jess gunna graduate and then
Ah’ll go to work with Dad and drahve a bobcat.

Ain’t nobuddy needs algebra for that
Er fer workin’ at the factory line ever day either.
And it sher ain’t like ahm a teacher ner nuthin.
Ahm jess a regular person, nothin spayshul
Ah ain’t no docterr of rocket science
Ahm jess a working guy, and kinda playful.
Ah half tah admit, ah do get things wrong
And sometahms ah can make a big mess
But ah do have minny, minny good points
And ahm a rilly good person, irregardless.

But things like writin’ readin’ and
Grammer and other sech borin’ stuff
Ah stopped carin’ ‘bout at twelve
‘Cause ah found it more than kinda tuff.
Ah mean, it ain’t lack ah ain’t never
Gunna need to know reedickaluss stuff lie cat.
Ahm jess gunna graduate and then
Ah’ll go to work with Dad and drahve a bobcat.

Ain’t nobuddy needs algebra for that
Er fer workin’ on a factory line ever day either.
Ah sherr don’t need it to work digging
Er runnin’ sewer lahns er plummin’ pipes neither.
So, folks can jess give up on tryin’
To turn me into some kinda egghead scholar.
After all, it was good enough for my dad
To go to work, and work hard to earn a dollar.