People are falling like rain
all around me
i don't know why
I'm still alive.

I watch the poor souls
pour down in big droplets
their blood is like water
so thinned by the pain
of the needle and what it takes
from their bodies, from every living cell.
It is Hell, this deadly rain.

We wish it wasn't true
but that doesn't stop
the real nightmares
where i chase the next high
in some strange parking lot
of some strange apartment complex
I don't know him, I know her but now
she is gone

She is mad at me,
I hit her in the mouth
but she asked for it,
over and over and over
until I couldn't take it no more
and Lonnie is nodding out
in the backseat as we wait
at the shell station
for the real deal

There she is, she drives up and
drops off, I tell her to hurry on
and leave so she don't get hung up
with the police, cuz
they are on their way
if Erin don't shut the fck up and drive.

Get out of my car, *****!
*******; I got your fiddy.
Hit the gas and, drive me home.
And Lonnie hung on in the backseat
But now, Lonnie is gone.

And here comes Sig and lil Bit
wettin their pants waitin for it
But E!
What about those roses from Don?

They don't matter much do they?
Unless they got 100 dollar bills
attached to every bud, you will
**** him like a sweetheart wont you?
How could you swallow that nasty sht?

Short's phone is dead
Slim aint answerin
Ten don't pick up neither.

Where are we, babies??
What the f**k do we do now?

Short rap story






Lil loonie was a loser school abuser at home told he's was no more than manure
Always down on frowned on
Hound on!
People he's a supposed love are
Far being bigons
Stuck between two
Mother with issues
Dead brother picture hanngin in the window.
Constant reticule only peace
Was dream of revenue
Own a avenue be a block owner like the corner toker smokers shadows crews
Jammin to the bad words they lingo ,
The way lean tho , havin honnies chasin at they feet too
Seems so blissful
I want it!
Soo lil Lonnie became a grown up,
Started selling grass up in the school bus,
Ayo man. Lonnie gone nuts !
Starting fights skippin class grabbing *** up in the hallway ,
Stealing cash,
And ****** in the hallway,
Jumpin other kids in the stall way
He's gone gray,
He finally dropped out , linked up with the corners, made a connection now he's transporting product ,
Constantly eyes shut , to the fact that he blind but makin quap to support his mom and dads ****,
So they didn't question his surprised bust ,
Did 20 rough , came home to a dead conscious mutt , and******* addicted **** ,
Moms up in hospital, dad has lost his mind , nuts. A remarried krutch Brain is crust , powdered dust loonie.
Lil Lonnie lost a huge portion of life to a past hobby, trying to good now, takin flowers to the lobby. Only to find he's heading to mortuary section , mom didn't make it past the first chemo injection.

“Do unto others as you
Would have them do unto you.”
The Golden Rule applies to everyone,
Every brother, sister, daughter, and son.
If treating people with respect
Is what everyone should live by,
Why don’t we say hello or hi?
What about your son, Lonnie?
Not feeding him is funny?
You watch him starve
And then you carve
Into his brain the image
Of Pain, Suffering, Damage.
You stand there, watching him suffer
Do you think you’re a good mother?
He cries from hunger and he cries from pain
And you tell him to shut up; he’s insane.
Poor, little Lonnie, your son, hasn’t taken a shower or a bath
For forty days and nights, but he’s staying quiet to avoid your wrath.
His clothes are torn and nonexistent
He’s not making a sound; he’s distant
From you and what you call being a mother
Because all that he needs is a big brother.
He looks in the mirror and all that he sees
Is a reflection of what ifs and maybes.
What if I was with a new family?
Maybe I can feel alive and feel free
To attend school and to get rid of these clothes
Then maybe I can turn these pages and close
This awful chapter in my young life
And avoid being stabbed with the knife
Of lack of respect and compassion
And this awful food called field ration
That you, my mom, told me was healthy
While you go out and get wealthy
And you spend that money on clothes and food
And whatever else that lifts up your mood.
What about me? I’m your own flesh and blood.
I feel like I’m being dragged through the mud
Of Pain and Suffering and no Respect.
Well you know mom, I’m done with the neglect.
I live by the Golden Rule and you will witness
My wrath unto you will be full of sweetness
Because mom, you know what they say around this town?
It is all Karma: What goes around, comes around.
I live by the Golden Rule, mom, what about you?
‘Cause in the end of the day, I’m no longer blue.

i know who
you
are
sitting there
in
the dark
you're the
same person
as
me
tiger shark

I just wanted to tell you about brown eyed Carolynn , the sweetest little girl I've ever laid two eyes upon .. They say Harrison looks just like his Grandfather ,  growing bigger by the hour , as tall as his father one day if that's even possible .. Mary Ellen has turned my world upside down , you two would absolutely adore one another , I can't wait to look over and see her pretty face every morning ! I've lost the beard plus a hundred or so pounds , traded in farm life for the woods in Chattahoochee Hills .. Mom is feeling better and doing what she loves , eating Chinese food and watching old shows .. Just thought I'd check in with you for awhile tonight and keep you up to date on all that is good in my life ! Later ....

1 | 31 Poems for August 2016

Before I put my words and wishes in a poem, I put them in a prayer first.
Luyanda once told me that I don’t always have to rhyme every time I write these words down.
She also regularly told me that I need to smile twice as much as I frown.
I have been a loner, way before my peers began smoking marijuana.
Sitting in the local park or standing on some dodgy neighbourhood corner.
But I can’t judge them, sometimes I want to get lost in those same clouds too.
They all get so high to the point where they cannot even see the ground.
I’m from the city where jacaranda trees light up the streets with their purple blooms, but I’ve told you before.
Spoken words filled with so much truth, I had to reiterate the quotes I wrote back in my youth.
You need to know the value of life before it gets taken away from you.
Will you be a victim of the past or pay homage to your mother’s womb?
View the kaleidoscope of life through the perspective of a spoken-word poet.
Freedom and love are like finding forever and I hope that everyone in my life knows it.
Let’s all meet in the pages of a story where the ink always holds us together.
Every poem of mine is written from the heart so every single word you hear is guaranteed to be a pulse.
I have been a loner, way before my peers began smoking marijuana.
Before I put my words and wishes in a poem, I put them in a prayer first.
Luyanda once told me that I don’t always have to rhyme every time I write these words down.
She also regularly told me that I need to smile twice as much as I frown.
I’m Lonnie Lynn with the poetry and maybe that explains why we have a lot in common.

5 | 31 Poems for August 2016

I’m catching feelings, hope you don’t leave and go catch airplanes.
When the universe aligned, our paths and hearts were destined to collide.
You still give my comfort zone endless earthquakes; I wonder how much that is on the Richter scale.
Let me love you unconditionally regardless of how ugly your truths are.
In a sky full of constellations, you know that you’ll always be my favourite star.
It doesn’t matter whether it’s winter or summer, when you are the breeze I can never forget to breathe.
I’ve been digging the soles of my shoes into the ground just to keep myself steady and balanced.
I stood in the rain patiently awaiting your arrival but then, I eventually realised that you were the rain.
Looking forward to the day where your body and mine finally merge into one.
The day when we finally find home and we never ever feel alone because love is all around.
The day when we are able to look back at all the greatness we have both become.
Look me in my starry eyes and tell me that everything will be okay.
I can’t give you the world but I pray that you stay for more than just another day.
I’m Lonnie Lynn with the poetry, Marsha and Natalie with the Floetry.
So all you got to do is say yes if the question is, “Will you be mine from this day onwards?”
I don’t have much but I have you and with God on my side, how can I lose?
When the universe aligned, our paths and hearts were destined to collide.
I’m catching feelings, hope you don’t leave and go catch airplanes because my heart is really growing fond of you.

Soulquarians, gather round.
Hear my testimony. Representin’
Chi town to the fullest. Given the
Name Lonnie Rashid Lynn,
I earned the name Common.

I am, put on this stage for a purpose.
My verses give you, common sense.

I am, the role model to the past,
Present and, future. Being the
Loquacious man I am, I am,
Finding forever in you. So, keep me
In your mind because my time, is
Unforgettable.

Unforgettable I am. I speak with clarity.
Satisfying your starving eyes as I,
Feed you knowledge. I am,
That reflecting image in that young
Persons mirror. Watching them loose
Motivation.

And it’s sad cause’, we got arms,
But wont reach for the skies.
Our ignorance is in the same breath as
Our innocence, subconsciously, seeking to
Find an impressionable mind to convince.

I found one. Mani. One who is beautiful
And sweet. She told me, your lyrics inspire
Me. You are the rarest piece of finery,
And I would hate to lose you. She said,
Find forever in me. Lay upon me,
Your exquisite gift of poetry.

She said, I remember sittin’ in my room
With my boom box bangin’ so loud,
That your rythmatic vibrations caused
The pictures on my wall to form a
New image.

Listening to the game over, and over,
And over until my ears were filled
With beats that flowed from my pen,
And onto my sheet, of paper.

Papers, stacked so high with the words,
I love Common. Common. Nonsense,
Is what we’re seeing these days. So,
If you find the pursuit of passion,
Use it.

I am, here to restore our black maybe.
Cause’ maybe, we’ll get to the top
Someday. Instead of having our opinions
Stored away. Cause’ you see, common
Sense is quite rare. But, those that doubt
Com will soon believe. That-

This is where, Forever begins.
The start of reality. Wars and battles, we
Fought for ours, caught in ghetto tragedy.

Remember black brothers and sisters,
Origin is forever. Through these brown eyes
Are beholding black pride. So strive. Strive.
I, see my worlds tears, and I, want to wipe,
their weary eyes. I will be finding
Forever in you. I am Common.

Paramus? I bought a desk in Paramus. Don’t remember what it looked like.
There were ***** men outside the store. Or maybe they were Mexican?
They played a Skiffle beat as I haggled for that couch I was getting.
“When I’m dead and in my grave. No more good times will I crave.
When I die they’ll burry me deep. Way down on old Chelsea Street.”
Title was “Freight Train”.Think that one was by Nancy Whiskey You said Rutherford you’re from or Roebling?Ya, that Lonnie Donegan could sure make a song The song those Mic’s in front of the store I got the hutch at in Oradell was called “Face in the Rain”, went, “When I’m dead and in my grave. No more good times will I crave. When I die they’ll burry me deep. Way down on old Chelsea Street.” Wait what were we saying bout’ Paramus?
I mean Patterson.

-Xenophon leads me on… in another place… here
Aft amorning entranct with possibilities. Yo crero.
Someday you, is reading thisday me, when
from Under the Volcano
to the Lighthouse, bemused, as muses use us. Little things, elves. Ves-try best try, purple robe,

- the nobels dismounted
By and by, we learn the rhythm, sing song, none
Said wrong -goin’ up country… doin’s as we do…
goin up country, bring some ***** home
Woe baby war war war, holy war, face o’ god,
- Click, new channel, and the other one goes on… abysmally pro fundity, pay eh…
No mortal may gaze into, as the window of his own soul,  may gaze eyes ablaze, having
Witnessed the fact that the shining thing, tasting
The wait and see tree, {we asked why we could not eat the olives from the tree, but remembert green persimmons. So we let patience work}
We name first fruits, from the end of time, wait
Wait wait wait wait wait
Fifty years. Just wait. Suffer it to be so, never go
-away hungery, or mad, as the author, seeks cause, aitia, reason come to cause,
meet me at the t. aitia, I am, as amusement, a thoth thought that any Solomonic emulation can run. Pocket Pal, or a B natural Blues Harp, or
Some times I sing. Or whistle, just to let me know,
We remain just this sane, by a thread…
Of Anabasis, goin’ up country
Bound, bound bound by my brothers,
Marching
As to war, God gives us greed, t’ meet our need
Jones to the bones, pure-dee vine curiosity
how were such armies formed, gathered up,
from where, whence came the brazen helms
the hoplites sport on inspection and demo charge,
with a roar like highschool foot ball kick-off,
same surge of mob adrenal reasoning, tuned in,
sheee it, we, she-us, wh-then, the signal dropped out. Zero beat.
Right on. Tune tested, best of 300, in the top 3.
- look there were multiple versions
- the story of mankind, as we branched,
by means of confoundment… flattening,
Tin into brass, folding, and flattening, pounding
On an oak stump, oh,
Long time ago, this stump, see we cut it down,
slow, slow, old man fades, see,
Time as thought is time as time, to me, thinking this is all I bloomed to become.
About 1957, I learned that an old Persian olive
cultivar on Crete, or anywhere around there,
takes fifty years to reach maturity, full fruct-
if-ication…

So me, the guy after the secondplace hero,
Xenophon, you know, the rich geek,
Teddy Roosevelt, right, right right, just
like his character,
Legendary… like mine. My best me, I did boast,
But freedmen, as a class. Raise a brow, one notch,
Per sold out, wait, wait, wait till we see, the whites of their eyes, the others, sub-human, by god… hold your fire… wait
Or regret you have but one life to give, for your country. Do and die, be an Israelite indeed, guiless.--- unbeguiled, no guilt for knowing…
And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not… in deed…

High-brow mode. Click. Read the underlay,
life’s books, exist as onion-skinned palimpsests,
- Secret writing , not hid, just here, under
- Stood stones, such as we all learn, sing
- Song,  look at us, we’re marching, sing along… to Pretoria, pre- torie, eh, we
Dropped out. And ate dust. Dots in the distance,
Thunder in some dreams, tuned to take a non-anxious thought from a child so sure,
I’ve got a mansion,
just over the hilltop, in that bright land of after all.
We die. And lo’, we live, as words,
A word, to the wise, is enough… true rest compresses trust abused as a beggars tin-cup, to catch the rich man’s ball…
yes, I owned a silver cup… not tin, silver.
I was as proud of that cup as what’shisname,
The Left-handed Son of One-eyed Jack.
He had a buffalo hide. A whole, shaggy hair,
old, too old for fleas, buffalo hide,
he held in pride, the ownership
of special things kind of pride, not the gay abandon chains and don a Phryigian cap and
wrap the headsman’s axe in our threshing staves.
How high the brow, I raise, singlely, no, I lack that gene, yet, my lip doth sneer, left side only,
Thus, we flip the lense, then flip the pixels, yes,
Film effects, chaos in beauteous sfumato or chiaroscuro, something computers were taught,
finally, by sight. True, half-tone tech, made Chiaroscuro Computer Art, vision via metrics based on artist’s eyes, won me first prize,
An the 1986 Mohave County Fair, where we
Displayed our wares, and our networked Macs.
SE- latest, dual 3,5” floppies…
$3200, out the door. I never sold a one,
but to me. Wholesale, minus my commission, as the flooring was running out, interest
about to come for the accounting and the vig,
Keep hope alive, pay us all you can, we say when,
Enough’s enough, left right left, mental exercise,
Stretch the concepts… essentials first, must know
Knowns, we knowns, we all know, stories with morals, since the cradle,
So it seems, some think wombed Bach is better than acid rock,
time will tell, so they say. Vonnegut mutters,
So it goes.
Canned Heat, on youtube, at my whim, yeah,
Play it from the second verse, we all can think,
We were singing that, when Kurt Russell was a computer wearing tennis shoes, in a strange
Disney characters from the real Mickey Mouse club, with Lonnie, and Cubbie, and Annette –
Beach Blanket Bingo—war story
Flip for it, the novel thread is chance, fishing
For mental means to ends in minds, aimed at peace, post happiness achieved, on the Lincoln plan promoted with Famous Amos Chocolate Chips of the old block,
Yes, as you may imagine, carbon-steel, is new
To mankind, almost all the tools we use, are new.
Since 1969, have we learned any thing that might ease a child’s mind… after My Lai, or the like,
As soldier ants, enforce the others must die, we are protectors of the flag and the concept enclosed in the word republic, a we form, regimented,
Tools,
Trades and crafts,
Guardians of liberty,
Priests and experts in knowing signs
Left on stones for all to see, see, see and
So-bemused become, awe sets in, couch lock
Right, too right, mate, good enough, we got mind
Sunk… lowest point in south America is in Argentina. And what do you know, so is the highest. Learn it once,
Know it for ever, after any ever in progress.

23 | 31 Poems for August 2016

Say something, and no, I am not giving up on you.
I just want you to listen to Diddy Bop or maybe that Freedom Interlude.
I just want to know if you’re listening to the words that I’m saying.
All that I’m trying to do is live right and give you all the best parts of me.
No matter how hard I try, I can never write a poem as beautiful as you.
I do not know if that says much about me or the words that I constantly use.
Wrote these poems from the heart so every single word you read or hear is guaranteed to be a pulse.
I’ve been digging the soles of my shoes into the ground just to keep myself steady and balanced.
I hope that our love has a happy ending or keeps overflowing until infinity finds a need to end.
Being loved by you and loving you is the only thing that makes sense right now.
I’m banking on you to not withdraw from the love we have both invested in.
I still smell the sweet scent of your presence on the white cotton sheets of my memory.
You are the first love poem that I ever wanted to write back when I didn’t have the courage to.
Say something and I promise that I will follow you anywhere God leads me to.
I’m Lonnie Lynn with the poetry and maybe that explains why we have a lot in common.

8 | 31 Poems for August 2016

I miss you right after my first cup of coffee in the morning or before my last glass of wine in the evening.
I miss you right before my 8 a.m. class on Monday or at 2 a.m. on a Sunday when I can’t seem to fall asleep.
When I can’t seem to fall asleep I inevitably fall on my knees and pray for a better day, pray that you stay.
I’m Lonnie Lynn with the poetry and maybe that explains why we have a lot in common.
We have a lot in common, Alicia Keys expressed similar sentiments and I am just being honest with you.
Look me in my starry eyes and tell me that everything will be okay.
I cannot give you the world but I pray that you stay for more than just another day.
When nothing else in the world makes sense, somehow you always do.
These are more than just compliments, more than just a guy trying to flex his confidence.

When the ****'s
not the sound from a dinner gong
where
did I go wrong?

kitsch on a ketch in Marrakech
fetch me a spyglass
pass me the chain
let's hear the sound from the
dinner gong
again.

There's a fissure
the missionary's fishing for me
I fall where all the fallen go
don't know where that is
but
I'm going to find out.

Not well today
so
blaming it on decimalisation
the falling pound
(must be where the fallen go)
the state of the nation
David Cameron
anything else I can get
my hands on
even
Lonnie Donegan,
well
skiffle rhymes with sniffle.

and vanishing cream does not do the trick
doesn't advertising
make you sick?
I never once bounced with health
after eating that dog food I
bought off the shelf.

Everything's different
nothing's the same
no ****** bongs
electronic gongs
microwaved meals
it all feels so
wrong.

Little Lonnie loved chocolate milk.
And the words that he asked his mom were silk.
Mom, does chocolate milk comes from a chocolate cow?
Mom, does white milk come from a white cow?

His mom looked at him and said wow.
White milk comes from a cow of any color that is how.
She laughed and also said.
The cow ate Hershey's Milk Chocolate Bars.

And that is why chocolate milk is chocolate.
And if the cow had eaten Red Hots Candy.
Then the milk would have turned out red.
And that put the questions to bed.