****** fantasies can be quite
A desire.
Would it be best to do it with your
Secret admirer,
Or just a **** dude?
Would you call it rude
If you showed up at his house
****,
Having conversations about your
Tide tubes?
Is it true?
While time pushes by.
Is it real?
He sexing you and cutting you
Off like a deal
Will your heart heal?
Your fantasy desires coming
True,
With a man heart cold like
Steel.
Think about it,
Take a moment and think.
Not every man loves you.
Next min he’s there and the next
He’s gone like nair.
Babygirl it’s not love, its lust.



-Marci H.

Feeling like an adult and dreaming like a kid ... "When I get older ... Maybe there might be good in my definition of the word Life"

-Marci

It’s just the scale in me.
I’m a pure blood libra,
I’m not blind
I can see,
Exactly what’s going on around me.
Fierce indeed.
Money, clothes, wealth
I greed.
Empty souls,
And unhealed wounds,
I feed.
I’m kind,
Yes.
I’m goofy and bless.
I pick up anyone
Mess,
And put my enemies
To rest.
I am a libra.
I am the best


                                              Marci H.

Oh sweet Marci
I cried in my dreams
For your tears
Though day comes and
Chemicals keep
my eyes dry
I want blank dreams
Where I don’t have
To feel anything
I want blank dreams
I want blank dreams

My demonized spirit leaves me immortal and lyric.
It wakes me as a magician, but the cross on my chest
Bring me back to my senses,
‘Marci, you’re a Christian’
I have a problem and a plan. I was kicked out of forgiveness
That read
‘Marci, you’re banned’
My messed up head, with the bible on the stand
Made me to remember all the dirt on my hands,
The blood and revenge on my mind,
The fancy cars and clothes I want to shine leave me with a death wish
With my life on the
Line.
I’m unforgiven, and sick in the head. I’ve opened up a can of worms
That always leave me stuck in my bed, eyes wide open and stuck to the
Ceiling.
I’m the mass murderer who don’t give a f..K about livin’,
And that’s exactly why I’m unforgiven, and again as I say,
I am immortal, and the only thing I’m opening up
Is a new world
In a
Portal.




-Marci H.

A friend,
Who’s Godly,
Smart, and
Genuine.
A friend is a hand to lend.
A friend is a person you don’t have to make
Pretend.
A friend will never make your life
Bend.
So thank you friend, for being my
Friend.
Its because of you why I smiled so many
Grins.
A Friend.



-Marci H.

Todays mixed emotions for today is:
Slow,
Cold,
New,
And old,
Difficult,
And hard,
Chess play and pulled cards.
The day soaks in when I make it home
The dark hole I bury my sins,
Leaves me in the fog,
Lost
And gone.
Headache, tears.
Stress, it steers.
No words, its weird,
My breathe I feel.
My demons I ****, and no love I reveal.
Hours almost spent in the fog I fade.
I wake up reincarnated with a prayer I say,
“God forgive me for my sins, and remove my
Name from the grave.”
A few more minutes,
And it’s titled
Shower Days.

-Marci H.

Another year has been added onto my life.
Everything is okay,
And I thank God I’m still blessed,
But my tears are just
Getting bigger as the time
Starts to trigger.
My heart starts to get swollen
As my mind still tries to
Figure exactly what’s really going on.
Why do I feel so alone?
I try and close my eyes and picture home,
But I’ve been gone for too long.
I’m living in miseries.
My only pain killer is a double shot of
Hennessy.
Lord give me ink and some paper
Please.
My soul cries out within the
Ink that bleeds.
Oct 6 was the day I was born.
God how long will I live and still remain
Trapped in this storm?
My heart for writing
Can’t be the reason I’m still alive.
God gave me another chance
To get my hands on the prize,
But it’s been too long to why I’m still living in
Disguise
Of pure evil that set fire in my
Eyes.
Aching bones in my body,
And a hopeless dream of
Corvettes and audi’s.
Entrepreneurship,
And dedication is what I feen,
But another year has been added onto
This helpless black queen.
I’m not sure why me.
My pencil is about to break,
And my paper is about to rip.
The hardness of my thoughts,
And my teeth that’s clenched and gripped
Is only another episode to why I’m still
Here.
#HAPPYBIRTHDAY





-Marci H.

It seems to me I’ve been set
Free.
It seems to me,
We all humans bleed.
The love of the fallen flower
Will never leave.
I have your fallen
Tears written upon my sleeves.
Love me my darling,
For I am guilty of greed.
Be at ease with a mind so lean.
With a heart so wise,
And head full of green.
Come closer sweet heart,
We’re getting closer to that
Dream.
We’re seeking light.
I have one question,
Do you mind if we take that
Flight?
Let’s touch the moon and back.
Let’s go to Jamaica and relax.
Let’s roll up blunts and
Reach the max,
Cause we’re flowers.
God stacking our blessings
Like towers.
One day we’ll make the world
Ours.
Just us.
I feel empty,
It’s not just lust.
I feel dead,
It’s not trust.
My tears.
My sleeves.
Our love;
Can’t leave.
Let’s stay;
Stay in the bed
And lay.
Let’s make our dreams come true.
Spark up some lights,
And start our life new.


Marci H.

Quiet whispers,
And thoughtless imaginations
Fulfill the truth
That lies within the heart.
The heart beats,
And uncontrollable defeats
With anger
And other stuff that contrast
The fears,
From damaging and preparing
It self to one’s peers,
That lies still,
And speak quiet whisper
In one’s ears,
With debatable beliefs
From the hard cold tears
That stays in the corner
Of one’s eye that
Makes it hard to fall,
And even easier to not
Cry.
The dents in the pillow to
Where one head rest and lay,
And the mind, body, and
Soul
Is released to God
To help the gray
That takes over your life,
Vanish and disappear
Which you is uncapable
Of controlling,
With quiet whispers.
And little whimpers,
That no one hears but you.
God take me to the point of
This poems,
Help my reader read,
And understand that my
Words are true.
I am itching to be loved.
I wonder if that itch really had
Grew.




-Marci H.

The world is a pattern
In my eyes.
Bigheads full of water,
And tongues that’s tied.
The world is a pattern,
And I can’t keep up with it.
Everything is the same,
It’s like looking at black and white swirls with
Different names.
My mind is confused,
And my heart is just screaming.
My *** is over boiled with hot water that’s
Steaming.
The steam blurs my eyes
From those filthy lies
That I deceive,
Is fulfilled to take away my needs,
Leaving me skinless with
No deeds.
I pray to God to keep the
Confusion away,
But something always seems to
Happened my way.
What can I do?
Where can I start?
I begin to lose my memory
That’s why I have it written
On a chart.
My heartless soul,
Filled with black blood,
Red eyes, and
Evil art.
I see the cross hidden.
I see it in the background
Blended in with a few others,
But I’m not focused
Because I’m ducking and dodging
The cutters.
My life consist on abuse,
And bad temper that fuse.
I’m like a snotty nose kid,
Empty and
Confused.



-Marci H.

Space and the bright galaxy has always been my escape.
I’m not my own creator,
And the untamed monster
I make,
To be believable and harsh.
So kind hearted and fine art,
Renewable human cycle, my role model use to be Michael,
The way he moved,
Swift and light, is the exact same way I would move
In the bright space and galaxy;
Light and smooth
Marijuana and Corinthians;
My problems I soothe.
Last night I hugged and kissed the moon. It smoked my marijuana and
nodded
Its head with my groove.
You’ll think I’m delusional with a few loose screws,
But I feel perfectly normal,
For this on spare times is all I
Do.

      #Lord Knows


-Marci Henderson

The helpless of my heart;
Pleads to remove these burdens.
My mind and I
Are having debatable
Conversations on whether I’m
Fine or not,
But my settings start to
Twist with my plot.
I was here,
Then there.
I’m so caught in my mind,
I didn’t notice the eye stares.
A normal day for me is rare.
Preparing myself for my long
Journey walk.
Only ashes and dust comes out
As I begin to talk.
Black is surrounding me with a splash
Of blood.
The insides of my hands is *****,
And my fingernails are full
Of mud;
From where I tried to bury;
My sins.
I try to drink my soul away
Just in case I don’t get in.
I close my eyes to a million
Memories,
Good and bad.
They flash before my eyes,
Like a movie being replayed.
The devil is feasting on me,
From Marci soul I prepared
And accidently made.
I feel homeless in time.
I feel I’ve been gone for
A decade.
Nothing will never change,
And my grin will remain false.
My pearly white teeth I smile
Will remain fault
To what’s hidden beneath.
My warm hugs I give for a greet,
Is only a cold shoulder I give
Because no one knows the
Real me.





-Marci H.

The man that stood in black.
That man that was there,
When I always turned back.
He, That man,
Was there,
Standing still.
Cold as ice,
But eyes warm,
And mind so nice.
The Man In Black, and I
Spoke thru silence.
We stood there.
Eyes growing wilder in violence,
But yet the conversation
Was so sweet.
Tender enough to the point
I needed no greet.
The Man In Black,
Was hard to make of.
I couldn’t see much of his face,
Except that his teeth and eyes
Was as white as a dove.
He showed much remorse
Thru smiles, and love.
He covered me thru all of my
Hard times.
When I had to push and shove.
But The Man In Black
Was a scheme and darkness.
Every talk we had,
My silence grew angry.
My silence was violence.
My silence became a riot…
It became a riot.
A RIOT!
RIOT!!
RIOT!!!
RIOT!!!!
I couldn’t hide it.
I loved The Man In Black,
But why couldn’t he stay for long?
Why when I had problems he
Seems to always be gone?
WHERE’S THAT MAN?!
Why…
I thought I had a friend.
I just wanted a friend.
That man in black,
Was a trace of myself.
My guilt.
My conscious.
My trend.
I no longer had a friend,
That was in all black,
That man became me.
Every time I turned back.


                  Marci H.

I’m the one wearing the
Rusted gold ring,
Hypnotized by my hard cold
Tears that sting
That rolls down to my open wound
That will never close because
Of the stress I bring.

-Marci H.

I’ll rather be high all time.
Keep my feet lifted,
And everything off of my mind.
Make me feel free,
And have a dope *** shine.
I’ll rather be high.
Smoking my soul away while
The time passes by.
I’ll rather smoke my ****,
Then drink a red bull to give me wings
To fly.
It’s better this way.
All my troubles die,
Some may stay in my head alive,
And some may sip on my joy of
Pride.
That’s why I’ll rather stay high.
Lord I know I said a long time ago
I was going to quit,
But I can’t help the strong T-H-C
It keeps my mind at E-A-Z
I’m staying away from trouble,
So I guess it’s helping me.
Reminiscing my time with a glass
Of wine.
Dank on deck and I’m looking
Real fine,
But I can’t help to get him
Out my mind.
We argue,
We fight,
We fuss,
Maybe all night.
That’s why it’s better high.
I thought me smoking my soul away
Would erase him,
But he still remains.
He will never know what kind of
Pain I gain,
But it seems like my dank takes me all
On the trips that’s the
Same.
I wouldn’t call it lame,
Cause it’s a game.
That’s why I’ll rather be high,
Cause people change at a blink of an
Eye.
I’ll always wear the red bow that
Tie.
So let’s all take a hit,
While our troubles die.  




-Marci H.

Words,
Thoughts,
Emotions,
And life
Surrounds me in one.
As I begin to write
It all turn into fun, then as I continue,
It starts to turn into violence, and shoot out like a gun.
Everything is so peaceful,
In other people eyes,
But the stream of words,
Titles
And thoughts keep coming in remind,
That I am a poet.
I get the urge to write.
I’m like a crack addict,
Addicted to writing, staying up all night.
Afraid to stop.
Paranoid that the words will
Stay.
Troubled by my thoughts,
As Ink bleed in repay,
Of redemption and
Sequel  settings
The hard times of one’s life is mine,
Which is not forgetting.
I seem crazy and quite threating to others.
I talk to myself,
Just quiet,
Unexplainable mutters.
Poetry took my heart and ran,
Made it paper thin,
And red ink span,
Grey lead as a tan,
Poisoning my heart, and making it into flying paper
Cranes.
In only minutes,
Seconds,
I am done with a poem,
That is ******* with the ends of my storm.
I am the devoted,
Thoughtless,
Emotionless,
Lifeless,
Poet.



-Marci H.

This is just a few words of a sinner
Not now or a beginner,
Fulfilling with anger,
And in need of a healing
Finger.



-Marci H.

One day my grandma asked me,
Am I happy?
I didn’t quite understand
So I said ‘what happy at home’?
She responded and said
‘No happy with life’?
I stopped to think,
Lied and said ‘yeah’
But deep down inside
I was walking in hell bare.
Gripping on my blunt,
While the loud music blare.
Hell no I’m not happy!,
Hell no I’m not fine!,
Hell no I can’t sit down,
And have a good time.
It’s hard to trust.
Love will get you killed
So watch yourself that’s a must.
Struggling thru my hard times.
Wondering if my mama still love me.
Will God forgive me for all the dirt I did?
All the sins I sinned?
Would he still love a broken heart,
That wont mend?
Breathe smelling like gin.
Heart tighter than skin.
Will he still love me?
I was born innocent and precious,
But now I’m about to cut my verses,
Here’s the message.
I’m reppin’ and spittin’,
Snitches looking and tellin’,
Snakes movin’ in lesson,
But see I don’t know who’s real,
And who’s not.
My life tangled in a knot.
I’m about to put a red laser dot,
Sticking to your forehead like a blot.
Stand still while your ******* head
Get shot.
Gma I want to sleep on a Marriott!
I dreamed of having a chariot.
But now I’m making money out the
Sticky ***.
Gunned down with a 50 shot.
Life coming to you,
Don’t get popped.
Stop pretending to be
Something your not.
Your skin huggin’ your bones.
You out reppin’ and spittin’,
But where’s your home?
Mama I’m sorry for
Causing so much pain.
So much pain became a
Memory lane.
I dream of ridin’ gettin’ high,
In my own private plane,
But it’s a **** shame,
I’ve been set by squares,
And a bunch of lames.
Real ****** lose to win,
But **** ****** lose the game.
I’m looking at the world thru my review,
With low eyes, and blind eyes.
Blind eyes,
Its show time,
Showtime It’s my time.
Cause Gma I’m not happy.
I’m not happy!
I’m not happy!
I want to go to the gun range,
And shoot off the oozi,
**** a ***** in a Jacuzzi,
Sit back and watch him do me.
Then cut his *** off like a butcher.
I’m trying to chase my dreams,
Before they leave.
Lord forgive me for I am guilty of
Greed.
I want to be rich.
I’m tryin’ make it out the
Gutta but life such a *****.
I thought my home girl was down,
But come to find out she was a snitch.
I got better so I won’t leave her in the ditch.
It seems like my life,
Changes a little bit by the day.
Obama trying to take a stand,
And have something to say,
But **** them!
I’m going to do it my way.
There’s kids crying,
And people weeping.
Preachers preaching,
And mama still teaching.
It seems like the devil having
A field day,
But ******* satan,
Yo *** going in the grave.
I got to stand up,
And make it happened.
I’m going to be somebody,
Just save the clapping.
Gma I love you,
And to answer your question-
No I’m not happy.



Marci H.

I sometimes wonder
What morning think.
I sometimes wonder when, where, and why
My eye lashes blink.
I wanted to relax,
Take time and think.
Meditate before I start my day.
Before the sun came up and show the
World beautiful displays.
I wanted to write my poetry,
And recite my words,
Put curves of my life on paper
So my voice can no longer
Be heard.
I wanted to pick flowers,
Pray,
And grant wishes,
Maybe.
Just maybe,
I wanted to eat my breakfast,
And not clean the dishes.
Call it a lazy morning,
Before the sun comes up.
Its 4’oclock,
And the coffee makers is empty,
Right along with my cup.
It’s 5’oclock,
And yet the sun hasn’t risen.
I think I’ll play soft reggae.
Close my eyes,
And just listen.
It’s 6’oclock,
Maybe 6:30.
The sun is now up,
And the mocking birds
Are in a hurry.
Reggae,
And my curved lines are still
Telling a story.
It seems like
The coffee is on,
And my cup is ready.
My mind has stimulated.
My words are now written.
7’oclock is almost near,
And my coffee has started Beginning.

       Marci H.

The scarlet letters burn thru my chest,
And leave me helpless to a bullet proof vest,
And yes,
Shame and guilt has rained upon my soul,
And thru my body.
I feel like Hester when she stood
In front of the crowd;
Shameful, and guilt.
My tears and pain I’ve
Knitted in a
Quilt;
To perfection for sinners, and the starters for
Beginners.
I have the whole alphabet across
My chest in stone.
I stand in pain by myself,
Alone;
While eyes consistently stare,
That leaves me to feel naked and bare,
With a big burn hole in my chest.
The smoke still flares the air,
So my wound is fresh.
Some people take a look at the scarlet letters,
And try to guess my sins,
But you can’t judge me, if you haven’t
Looked
Within.
The devil is laid back watching with a grin.
I’m falling deep in the dark,
Confident that God won’t let me in.
No not this time.
I can feel it.
I know,
He has given me many chances,
But the alphabets on my chest show,
The cruel and impurity of my heart.
I’ve bared pain from outsiders already.
I’m walking on the edge
Firm and
Steady,
Wishing everything will get better,
But the more stares I get,
The more burn and pain I retrieve that
Flows lightly like a feather from the bittersweet
Chest holes that remains from
The Scarlet Letters.

  

  

  
-Marci H.

Today is your birthday,
And I should be happy,
But my grief from your lost
Is causing me despondency.
Our memories flash in my head constantly,
And honestly,
I still wish you was here so I can be
Daddy’s little
Girl
To.
Maybe that’ll take away my
Fears
Of guns and bullet wounds.
The blood that splatters and fumes,
And nothing that I can do to stop
My mind that assumes
The president will continue to let
This resume in the sake
Of living I wish I had you to groom
My life when needed.
I see little girls hugged in their daddies arms,
And all I can do is close my eyes
While my insides are screaming.
I wish this despair would go away.
Lord is this a wakeup call
For the sins I have to pay?
The grief that takes over my
Life,
And the non-existence of allay,
But you know everything happens for
A reason,
Even though sometimes in my heart
I feel treason of betrayal and
Cool season.
Daddy my time with you
Was very
S
H
O
R
T.
I’ve became anti-social,
And built my own private
Fort.
Lord I have no resorts, and I’m down to my last.
Lord what am I supposed to do when,
School, friends, family, and life
Kicking me in the a$$?
Daddy you’re rested up and gone,
I just pray you left me a spot
Next to you when I get
Home.
I pray when I start feeling like this
That you’ll never leave me
Alone.
Daddy I will try and make
My success seen for your sake,
And finish what you didn’t.
So upon your decease,
Daddy may you rest in peace.
~October 27,2001- November 16,1974~



Love, Your Daughter
Marci Henderson.

Words in a whisper
Death and a sinner,
Peace and a nerve wrecker,
Is best kept quiet
In a whisper.
Trouble told me in my ear,
That
It’s almost near.
Trouble spoke to me
With blankless
Emotions,
And little fear.
It felt cold as
Ice.
It split minds,
And rolled off its tongue
Like dice.
Every whisper
It spoke,
Every nerve it provoked,
Every strand of my hair
That stood up
With fear.
My past was
Coming,
And I didn’t have
Enough time to run,
But that whisper
Shot me like a
Gun.I couldn’t move,
I couldn’t speak.
I sat there,
As that whisper
Caused contractions
And heat.





-Marci H.

Perception is just another way to detect things through your senses. For every minute we scope out a situation, or anything in general, we become very counterintuitive and have the tendency to gain propensity to understand the logic of our interpretation.

-Marci H.

I left a mark;
A stain of my love
Onto your heart the very same
Day you met me.
I took the bus home,
And you took the taxi.
We made an eye contact,
And your smile was very catchy.
I almost missed the bus,
And you almost missed
Your taxi.
I glazed out the fogged,
Uncleaned window,
And you glazed down low;
At your heart beat that steadily
Pumped.
I seen your taxi # the night
I got off the bus.
There I walked over,
And seen you sitting there.
You didn’t see me because of
Your heart beat that caught your
Attention.
The same smile you gave me;
Was the smile before your name
Was mentioned;
So I called you guy.
I stood in the street
Waiting for you to
Notice me.
Maybe if you would look up
And smile again;
This time I would've crack a grin…
But there I stood on the
Hollow, dark, gloomy, misty
Street called Maine,
And there you remained;
In the taxi car;
With your head down, looking
At your heart beat
That I stained.



-Marci H.

I’ve been mistaken
As the chosen one.
I’m not a role model.
You’re surrounded by love,
And I’m surrounded by none.
Your eyes and ears wide
Open,
Mines has never begun,
To open and spread.
I feel lonely and dead.
I feel chastised in the head.
No milk or bread.
Mama left me no choice
But to go chase this bread.
Poison ink,
And pencil led,
Notebook paper,
And eyes that’s red.
A hungry soul that needs to be fed.
My mind,
Seems to be ahead of the average teen.
No I’m not trying to be
Mean,
I just have a guilty
Heart
From what my
Weary eyes has seen.
I’m not dead,
Just been mistaken,
From the wrong way
I’ve been lead.



-Marci H.

The highlights of my
Life,
My generation
And the love of my mediation
Is only a glimpse
Of preparation
Of the future that
Lies within the back of
My mind at night.
The inflammation of my
Heart
That stops to my toes.
It leaves my neck and up
Half dead, and half froze.
The highlights of my life,
Is the temptation to my fantasies.
The highlights,
The gleams and
Beams.
The highlights of my life
Isn’t just what it seems.

-Marci H.

Let’s paint a vivid picture,
Up under the movie screen,
Making a love scene,
That’s my favorite part.
Let’s get connected, and
Smoke each other HEART,
Cause I love this part.
Let’s kiss and touch,
If I asked to cuddle would that be too much?
Not too hard,
Or too rough,
I don’t really need LOVE,
I just want LUST,
You ask why?
Because I threw away the key
So it’s hard to TRUST.
Keep going, I haven’t had enough,
This my favorite part.
Don’t stop.
Let’s trace over our beautiful art,
Gleaming in the NIGHT
FEENIN’ for your light
MOANIN’ cause it feels just right
Smiling cause it’s just nice,
This my favorite part.
****** still high,
My FUSTRATION is leaving
I’m MEDITATING, while the air still
STEAMIN’
I’m feeling the inflammation of our
FIRE.
I can’t help what my ****** frustrations
DESIRE
Your **** body I admire,
Bring your “A” game, and your
TONGUE,
yes, it’s REQUIRED
I been tensed up for a min,
I put the kitty on pause, so yes
It’s RETIRED,
Love higher than a TOWER,
Climb up then fall down into
A bed of FLOWERS.
I’m digging you,
And you digging me,
We’re both BLIND to what the
Naked eye cannot SEE,
And that’s love,
We’ve been HYPOTIZED
By laughs and hugs.
****** appeals,
Your time, yes, I STEAL,
Remember we made a DEAL,
But do we have to stick to this
Deal?
Do it have to be a MUST?
Am I under DISGUSIE
To a beautiful heat that LIES?
A tongue SILENCING my cries,
Speechless cause I’m so surprised,
You did all your speaking,
So now it’s time to
WINE and DINE.
Can we CHANGE or minds?
Is it a CRIME,
Can we RECITE this just one more
Time?
It may be too late,
To change back our words,
No longer you HEAR me,
No longer you HEARD.
Your plate has been FINISHED
Your mouth is no longer FULL,
Your plate is CLEAN,
Now my hands is on PULL,
Hanging to your shirt,
Where I can no longer feel like
DIRT,
Here come back,
You can have my SKIRT,
Don’t go you haven’t finished
Have you seen the eye that was
WINNING?
The smile that was GRINNING?
The time that I was STEALING?
The flower that was laid out on the bottom of the tank?
I should be your commander solider,
I should be TOP RANK!
So STOP!
Don’t leave,
I ******* hate doing this,
I hate the GREED,
The FEEN,
It’s KILLING me
So PLEASE,
Let’s talk again,
About the LOVE and LUST
I know this is your favorite part,
But just HUSH
Listen.
I don’t want to RUSH.
I just want to cuddle,
Am I ASKING for too much?
My famous WORDS, and special TOUCH.
If you THINK about it,
This could be our favorite part too.



                                             Marci H.

Let The Marijuana Be The Healing Of Your Nation, Let The Blunt Be the Soul Of Relations, Let Your Lighter Be The Flame Of No Hesitation, Let Your Lips Be The Feel Of Sensations, And Let Your Mind Wonder Into Vacations  

-Marci

I seek myself in this pen, and paper. I visualize my life on this sheet. Sometimes, I just lay in my bed and look up at the ceiling. Sometimes my heart races, and mind wonder for a title to “my life”. Sometimes it gets too boring saying life. Why couldn’t I just say, “the storm” or “my light” or “my rain”. Why “my life”? it has a lot of meaning, yes I do agree, but to take up my time my poetry I do read

Short or long I love writing my poetry, from cursive to chicken scratch, but now I’m in my bed trying to relax. Life doesn’t get any better. I’m freezing in this cold world with no sweater.

I love writing my poetry. Can you feel it a little bit? Can you feel yourself deep, caught up in a day dream? Seeking knowledge from your ceiling while God mellow words creep into your ears, can you feel it? The anger around, arouse your soul.

But yet I love writing my poetry. My poems are my home, my escape, my way of peace, sometimes I just want to sleep.

I love writing my
Poetry.
It's just apart of me.

-Marci H.

My dreams,
Wasn't just any dream.
It took me into the deserts,
And made me into a cold
Feen,
A cold killer with a pierced heart ring.
I slowly fell into that dream.
Sinking like quick sand.
My head went first then my hands.
Unclean,
And dark tan.
I sunk.
I sunk into your quick sand,
And you left me there;
Selling false dreams with no care,
But who ever really cares?
I feel reincarnated wearing all
Black everything,
And a tattoed red tear drop that stains.
The stains that slowly rain,
One by one.
Two by two.
I've been playing fools gold,
But who would've ever knew,
That this day would come true?
I need your direction.
The only thing I ever knew was your
Protection.
I breathed you,
And your imperfections of lack of
Rotation to change your ways,
But it doesn't work like that,
That's just how the game plays.
Now i'm reincarnated in all black.
I had a knife cut in my heart
And thru my back,
But I still stand because at the time
I didn't know that I was sinking into
Your quick sand.
You know its funny,
Now;
Because you had me on hold,
But now all along...
I can truly title this
Fools Gold.
I was digging deep
Praying my soul would mold,
But that's just another story
Being untold.


-Marci H.

The shared tears of fate,
Those harmful conversations
Of,
“should I **** myself”
Debates.
You feel that you have another
Chance,
But that other chance maybe
Too late.
Those ****** memories,
And your murderous
Enemies,
That “Get the **** out my face!
Your no kin to me”
Type attitude.
Your zero tolerance
Have you floating
With no gratitude.
You’re lost,
And misunderstood,
Your crown of success weighs heavy
And far way too good-
With a mean-timid beast
Like yourself.
Theirs hope for the hopeless.
You feel 10 times worst when your words
Are respoken.
Your problems are now soakin,
But again as I say,
There’s hope
For the hopeless.


Marci H.

Our destinations lies in our own hands.
Dirt will be spilled on our names
Just to say;
We have a few fans,
But we’re still moving slow
While there’s no time left.
We’re falling out of place,
And on the edge of the clef.
Why?
We may perhaps ask;
The common question that is,
And will always be asked.
Even Albert Einstein asked questions
That he never held back.
We don’t live for today because
We’re scared to open our eyes.
Everything is a living nightmare hidden
In terror disguise,
But here’s our favorite question,
Why?
Why, we may never know why
The world really spins and move.
Scientists aren’t able to prove,
The changes, and different experiences
We go thru;
Not even a psychologist,
Or school.
We live in a generation,
Where being evil rules,
Killing is fun,
And swag is cool.
What happened to life?
The real meaning and definition.
The cool season, and the feel of
Being loved and seen by
Recognition.
Blazing temper fuels the world,
Along with sad frowns that we put on
For the show that is titled
“The confused clown.”
We are our own destination.
We live captivated under circumstances
We invade, spilling out our cries;
While playing Charades.
We get too hung in a daze.
We are our own destination…
Just wait

  

  -Marci

A guilty heart of a unsteady beat.
Shooting up fire to the ones who couldn’t stand the heat.
Exorcising my own demons,
The ones that creep.
A sorrow so long,
And a pain so deep.
In and out of mischief,
Was a soul to reep.
Praying, crying to God,
‘Please don’t let this be’
Mama talking to me,
Daddy gone.
I felt no love sitting in the passenger side all alone.
Ready to **** something,
High as hell way too gone,
But I have a warm heart,
Just didn’t know when to love,
Or how to start.
I was once taught how to love,
But now reminiscin’ I no longer
Get hugs,
Only a okay, and a shoulder
Shove.
Looking up at the sky one day hoping to be that dove.
In that clear blue sky,
Looking down at this empty world,
That us humans created.
Me and my sins debating,
Rather my anger and pain has truly
Deflated.
I tried to escape it.
Hold the handkerchief mama,
Away with it.
I’ve been up and thru it.
Yes it’s phenomenal.
Hard cold blood,
I’ve been thru the rain and the mud.
So there’s nothing you can really tell me,
At the end of the day I’ll still be-
Me.
Singing my soul away,
I should have been on glee,
Closed casket,
6 feet deep.
Going up the hill but the **** too steep.
Smoking real good,
But it’s too hard too sleep.
It’s too hard to be-
Me.
Deep in the world,
My name is a number.
They recognize me as a number.
Sleeping on the floor in that 2 bedroom house,
Mama you remember?
When shad wasn’t here that and this December,
The sweet scent that lingers,
Tongue rolling and sticky fingers.
My shirt,
My chest,
My heart,
Is where it hurts.
Inflammable, but so sweet,
Is it true?
I can’t be.
Am I?
A CRIMINAL


                                              Marci h.

Feel the beat,
And feel the heat.
Never underestimate your feelings,
That’s such a discreet.
Move your head and
Tap your feet.
Swing your arms,
And move your hips.
Hop side to side
While this wonderful lust take you on a
Trip.
Taste the music notes.
Hear every tune.
Make it shine bigger and brighter,
Even deeper than the moon.
Can you feel it?
So soft and sweet,
So lovely, and so neat.
Listen to the music of my wonderful
Heart beat.
Can you hear it?



-Marci H.

My demons follow me;
In my sleep,
In my head,
In my past,
And my future.
Am I known for my past?
I understand it was bad and I was
Moving to fast,
But as I turn around and start
Moving slow;
Am I recognized as the clown…
Of the show?
I feel like a homeless person
Getting rich.
Crying to myself at night
Because my problems are
Getting thick;
Which all turns out to me
Being a b..ch to everybody
Else,
Then afterwards I say sorry,
Because it wasn’t the real me,
It was just my stress that
Took over.
I’m pulling off the leaves of
A few four leaf clovers,
Just to get lucky or
Recognized for a one hit
Wonder.
I drop down to my knees,
And try to pray away my
Thunders,
But the more I try the harder
The rain,
The more I pray;
The dirtier my knees.
The harder I strive;
The louder my pleads.
The more positive things I try to feel;
The redder I bleed;
Of recognition and a pat
On the back,
Love or something,
But I just get lack;
Of claps and smiles.
I guess love in my past
Just wasn’t my style.
Am I recognized as my past in
This present?
The things that I feel isn’t
Pleasant;
For one human
Stressin’.
Its indescribable
And feel unrealistic.
I’m breaking every bone
In my back just to get some
Recognition.
I’m bursting every vain in my neck,
Just to get a pair of eyes to
See;
But I’m walking quiet in the
Storm,
Washing my tears away remembering
Where I grew up;
And living hard and rough.
I remember not caring,
And hurting my people,
But my present time is here.
Am I made equal?
I’m growing sadder and sadder.
My chest grows heavier and heavier.
My mind is over thinking;
And floods out with my
Thoughts.
I’m choking myself with
My own
Faults.
I’m wheezing helpless,
And emotional with scratch marks
All over my body,
From scratching and itching;
Just for a little
Recognition.





-Marci H.

The screams and terrors of unburied souls makes
It even more believable that the devil is in
Control.
The sleepless nights that one may live
Leaves it harder to escape and even more realer to
Feel.
But, why? Is always the number one question to be asked.
We’re living in color that leaves us like sardines that’s
Packed,
Together for a new war.
We’re supposed to be getting prepared but the sins is just
More distraction and controllable, our life changes from bad to
Horrible,
And you still wonder why God haven’t closed the
Portable.
Silly and easy to say, we’re becoming slaves, and buried in an open
Grave.
Say your prayers,
For God ears are always open, and our mouths are always
Frozen.
We penetrate into temptation and fantasize about dreams that’s
Hopeless.
Your words and my words together is respoken into an open
Chant,
And a revised message that screams loud like thunder and roars
Louder than a lion
Cry,
That leaves us under the devil control. Why is always the question,
And the word that ***** the life out of our body,
That leaves us lusted
And tempted again
To ask…
Why?





-Marci H.

Is this how it feels?
When the wait seems so long?
Mind in different places
And people’s judgments all wrong?
Heart waiting for the worst
And eyes following a curse,
But there’s no one to tell
Cause your voice
Is all hoarse,
And your tongue is all moist,
Head full of thoughts,
With a world full of doubts.
People doing their own whereabouts,
Government can’t have their way
So they sit back and pout.
Praying to the evil to help their
civilization and problems.
The conspiracy is causing problems,
Killin’ and stealin’
The devil is trying to rob em’.
But it seems like the wait is
Too long.
Blacks scared to come
On the street,
Bums looking for something
To eat,
But yet it’s such a discreet.
Feeling in with so much
Disgreet,
But in God we trust
In due time as we meet.
We cooking in the kitchen,
But can’t stand to feel the heat.
We’re all wrong.
The devil makin’ a tune,
Believe it or not
It’s our favorite song.
Sit back and hear it.


                          Marci H.

The reflection
Of myself.
The reflection of my skin.
My big nose,
And wide grin.
My thick brows
Before their arched.
My flaws
Before their touched with
Beauty marks.
Add a little tingle,
And a little spark.
Now my reflection
Of myself,
Remain worthy
Of good wealth.
Praying the mirror
Don’t break.
The fresh blood
With tender ashes,
That lay on my skin,
And drape.
I am your highness,
Feed me grapes.
I am the vein,
The heart,
In this mirror.
Only thing I ask for is,
Can my reflection
Be a little
More
Clearer?


Marci H.