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Mark Oct 4
Life just happens without knowing what will be happening  
So don't blame New York, It's just one of those days
You have to try something new or they might forget your gaze
You did nothing wrong, it's me, not you, but thanks for listening

I'm trying while you're gazing
I'm trying, trying, trying while your fantasising  
Don't try too hard, just trying to get above
Just add a smile to my dial and pile on the love

I'm more than just a gangsta, I'm a true hip-hop pop star by far
A symbol of peace, for the new world order, all locked away in a 1960s jar
Smack! Crack! ***! Snap! Crackle! Pop! Just painted art on the wall
If you take yourself too serious, your Humpty Dumpty will fall

I'm trying while you're gazing
I'm trying, trying, trying while your fantasising  
Don't know how I'm gonna stop
I need an escape or I'm going to flop

What's ya daddy's crib producing nowadays in the hood
I'm the only true black kid in the whole **** neighbourhood  
There's stray cats arriving from all over the place
All are getting together to form an almighty human race

I'm trying while you're gazing
I'm trying, trying, trying while your fantasising  
Don't try too hard, just trying to get above
Just add a smile to my dial and pile on the love

I'm just a guy from the ghetto, I used to be full of fear
Try living in a cage and spreading all of your love over here
How much pepper, how much salt, goes into a fine nancy salad
It so crucial for the final outcome of your life's fancy moving ballad

I'm trying while you're gazing
I'm trying, trying, trying while your fantasising  
Don't know how I'm gonna stop
I need an escape or I'm going to flop.
Mark 7d
Jammin’ along to riffs by, Sister Tharpe and Robert Johnson,      
You could only tell the difference, if a spotlight shone upon each one.
For one was going to heaven, the other, all the way to hell.          
But, while they picked at their guitars the mobs would still yell.         
They’d do a solo on a lead guitar, unheard of in those days;          
Then be totally racistised once stepping out on the pavement.          
No mention in the papers, because of the editor’s clan, da-far-right KKKs.  
But, outrage and riots ensued, callin’ da end to all dat black enslavement.         
           
Just sit back, take it easy and let those blues fill your shoes.          
Let her just make y’all a little bit confused.         
Ask her before or after, were you just abused?         
Either way, if your spirit was amused, she’ll be excused.         
           
Been scooting across mid town and even to easy beat street.          
Tripping lights out and seen both colored folks, along the way.      
Gettin’ some to enter my mobile studio, I call ‘Da Jam in da Van’!
Because, it’s not for just any ole cotton pickin’ southern bred fan.  
So, come inside, switch it on, then ******* off my feet.  
I’ll sign you on the spot, if you purr like a cool cat or a certain sort of stray.      
           
Just sit back, take it easy and let those blues fill your shoes.      
Let her just make y’all a little bit confused.        
Ask her before or after, were you just abused?          
Either way, if your spirit was amused, she’ll be excused.      
           
The here and now, is where the blues are fully infused.         
Not from era’s gone past or from some distant future.          
You can’t find it in a library, you can’t teach her;         
You won’t see it in a theory, you won’t solve her;          
You shan’t catch it in a harness, you shan’t trap her.          
Once gotten, never forgotten, you’ll never ever, lose her.          
           
Just sit back, take it easy and let those blues fill your shoes.          
Let her just make y’all a little bit confused.          
Ask her before or after, were you just abused?         
Either way, if your spirit was amused, she’ll be excused.
Mark 6d
Take the color out, from even the darkest of cotton blues.          
Then you’d enjoy it, without any innate bias or clues.          
From the railroad vagrant, without any degree;          
To purring cool cats, with a PhD.        
Hell! Go back to where you were born, your inner roots.    
All da way back, when you’d let dirt, get on those anti-racist boots.          
We listened when it pricked our ear, then the color of blue was swept away.
Then, just black and white, made us jive to the music, on that very special day.
Just a start of a poem or song lyrics. Any help or advice on this write, would be greatly appreciated.
Mark 2d
Workin’ as a young one, during da cotton pickin’ days.
Tuning my ears into, da older siblings gospel ways.
Smokin’ a whole lotta dope, got me to here.
Drinking from early mornings on, got me to there.
Playing some slow guitar chords, gave me the blues.
Sleeping at night, always awakening, to more bad news.

This is my blues.
Purely undiluted.
Then distilled on down.
To its true purity.

I got a kind hearted women, no imitation
Who will not let me be, until one dies
As she pulled up to the cotton plantation
I looked at her, straight in the eyes
Spoke to her, with her full attention
I’m outta here, anything else, I forgot to mention?

This is my blues.
Purely undiluted.
Then distilled on down.
To its true purity.

Isn’t it at all, a bit sort of creepy.
Returning home, to da back swamps of Mississippi
The last song I had ever written.
Would be the death of me, once bittern
Now ain’t that a bit haunting.
I should’ve just read, the dire warning.

This is my blues.
Purely undiluted.
Then distilled on down.
To its true purity.
Mark 2d
I walk ‘n’ talk like a citizen, but feel like an American Alien.
I’m Canadian born, brought up by a Philadelphian.

Falling asleep at 3 AM, rising after noon
Instant fame and riches, happening way to soon.

Always being told to keep my head down;
On the road from town to town.
Pleasing the crowds, appeasing my manager.

Sometimes I think, I’m just riding shotgun.
If I ever broke my melody making,
crab claw pickin’ fingers
I’d be out on the street,
              ^^^
like all my other,
              ^^^
unfortunate *******.
Thx H, for this and that.
Mark 2d
Take prejudice, throw it all about  
By extracting color within the blues  
You’d all still enjoy it, no doubt  
Without any clues, you got nothin’ to lose  
The colors of blue are just taken out  
Now listen again, with newborn ears  
Remember, you’d let dirt, get in and about  
Baby face baby face without any fears.  
  
Tired of racism, going on and about    
By liberating, we strike new tunes  
You’d all still enjoy it, no doubt  
Without any clues, you got nothin’ to lose  
The colors of blue are just taken out  
Now listen again, with newborn ears  
Remember, you’d let dirt, get in and about  
Baby face baby face without any fears.  
   
All of society, from near to far about  
All city slickers, outback folks, to hippie communes  
You’d all still enjoy it, no doubt  
Without any clues, you got nothin’ to lose  
The colors of blue are just taken out  
Now listen again, with newborn ears  
Remember, you’d let dirt, get in and about  
Baby face baby face without any fears
I found out that with you,
promises were never kept
& forever,
was never long
so, I had to accept
that our love would last for just a song.
I've been writing again. Not my best but I'm happy I'm writing for the sake of writing.
Much love, N.
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This poem is self translated version of my Hindi language poem titled "कविता" published in  bharat-darshan  ( Sep. -Oct., 2018 )
Can be read through the link ==>> https://bit.ly/2nRwOB9
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Poetry is the outflow of someone's heart
For someone, it's only black fever
For some, it's only a form of business
For someone, this is only seasonal fever

It's just an entertainment for someone
For someone it's like a toothpaste
A good instrument use to giggle
Listening it makes their teeth brighter

To show off the that stunning brightness
They spread crooked and mysterious smiles
Show of their shining-sparkling teeth
Then they lash out their greedy tongue

Poetry is an old newspaper for someone
It’s a mound of waste and unusable junk items
Poetry is just an advertisement for someone
Only an excellent medium to sell their goods

Poem is dark black alphabets for some
Only equivalent to a big fat black buffalo
From which it is impossible to get milk
But it's easy to get hurt by it's horns

Poem is a deep sympathy for some
For some its acute pain of the heart
Aroused from the core of their heart
It's someone's love for someone else

Poem is overflowing care for someone
It is swirling cloudy dust over someone
Poem is just a time-pass for someone
For someone it is complete nonsense

Poetry is effrontery in someone's pride
For someone it's amnesty for all
For some it's Saafi by Hamdard^
Which purifies and cleans the blood well

Poetry is a meditation for someone
For someone it’s a form of worship
Poetry is name of someone's beloved daughter^^
Poem is the name of someone's beautiful wife^^

Poem is means of livelihood for someone
It happen to be the basis of his life
For someone it is simply a big loan
Which is much difficult to repay in time

Poem is a tribute to the heroes
It a wreath to the brave martyrs
It's a collection of songs for musicians
It's prayer of devotees with folded hands

Sometimes poetry makes us happy
Sometimes it causes us to weep
It often caresses readers with love
Sometimes it even consoles them

Poetry sometimes make us laugh
Sometimes it forces to think
At times it reveals the flaws beneath
By removing the outer cover shell

Poetry sometimes surprises us too much
Sometimes misleads to pseudo-intellectualism
Sometimes it poses a challenge before us
Sometimes it emerges as a song from the soul

Sometimes it portrays the beauty of actress
It tends to dissolves sweet juice in the ears
And sometimes it pours molten lead in it
In such situation it pushes back all courtesy

Sometimes it transforms rulers into heroes
And sometimes it makes a politicians zero
Sometimes it becomes the words of panegyrist
Then it behaves like a butter ball for them

Poetry sometimes honours someone
Sometimes it even trick so many of us
Poetry even makes fun of somebody
Sometimes it entertains someone's heart

By the way, poetry is a blunt weapon
But it's has a different hitting power
Which is the real inner power of poet
It's also his covering blanket and strength

Only poetry gives him the required courage
It completely protects his existence
It always teaches him the lesson to -
Keep on fighting against the gunpowder

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^ Saafi - A Unani Medicine made by a company named Hamdard, used to clean or purify the blood

^^ Name of .....  - Kavita (translation of the word Poem in hindi) is a common name given to females in India.
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My thoughts on what a Poetry is......
Mark 6d
'Oh deary me!' I recently rusted my dang of a thang
So now I can’t even amuse myself, by golly
Even been trying da one, my cousin rented to me
Never got the yearly service, due to the high costs, kerching
Just a toppin’ up with the essential oils, for a nominal fee
Just so busy, with a plantin’ it, smokin’ it, a bit like a rolly
While galavanting about, this country’s dry and sunburnt soil
Okay then, serve myself right, I shouldn’t second guess
Should’ve just lubricated, after such a hard and grinding toil
That dang of a thang, now take a look at the **** mess
After every ounce of sweat and auto correct tweets
After weird Tinder meets and almost all the surprise greets
I can’t wait to play with again, my Chinese made, Yin & Yang
My most pleasurable and double ended, dang of a thang.
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