Within twenty-four hours everything changed.
The old man kicked me out again
so I was back in that twin sized bed
surrounded by my mother's boxes & plastic bins
my clothes in big piles
with the hangers left in, just dying for a home.
And the day I got kicked out
I got the call
the one I didn't think would ever come.
It was for a transcription job
doing reality t.v. shows
typing what the cast members said
in the interview room
word for word
every burp, ****, and studder.
A foot pedal is used to stop, play, rewind, and fast forward.
She asked me to come in for an interview
but then the next day
she had someone call out sick
so she called me back,
"**** the interview. Do you just wanna start? Like...today?"
So I went in that day and got typing.
The office was located in a 1960's trailer
in the middle of a small trailer park, next to a little house.
The boss was a middle-aged Rasta lady
with straight brown hair
and a very kind face.
Turned out she also ran the trailer park.
I asked her about one of the trailers with a 'For Rent' sign
the only one available in the whole lot of seven trailers.
She said it was a one bedroom and less than $500 a month.
Two days later
I got a few hundred bucks from my financial aid
that I had been waiting on.
It was my only way out
my only way in.
After I paid the move-in expenses
I only had $13 to my name
but it was alright
my good luck just kept on rolling
I found a $200 balance on my food stamp card.
At the end of the day, my face hurt
from smiling so big, for so long, I'm not used to all this.
I have a porch that's mine
Mason jars with ice water
good food in the fridge
It's only a short walk across the trailer park
to get to work everyday.
My rasta boss landlord lady
has two little boys
around my sons age.
Ever since we moved in
all he's done is play outside with them
running around with rocks, sticks, dirt, and random objects
the way kids are supposed to play.
I almost can't type this
can't put into words
what this means to me.
No more father looming over me
or mother yelling my name.
To be able to
step out onto my porch at night
seeing the Gilbert water tower lit up in white light, the scent of Joe's Real BBQ blowing in the breeze
or to walk the downtown streets
with it's old west, wooden awnings, hanging overhead.
the old tyme tattoo shop
with it's old style custom flash.
the wooden little two window, one door, the front
of my Dad's former bar
'The Mustang Lounge', where I watched him sling drinks, while I played the entertainment trivia touch screen, sipping Shirley Temples.
But the best part
and it's such a simple thing
just walking the sidewalks of my neighborhood
which are stamped, AA Beardon, 1930.
It's everything I've ever wanted
but
it's just dumb luck.
To find a job and a home
in one fell swoop like this.
I feel like I've run off and joined a commune or something
I'm on a writer's retreat
where I practice typing all day
and then cook myself dinner
at sundown.
T-Bone Walker's voice fills my little trailer
as I take in a sunsets from my porch
leaned against the railing
a jar of ice water in my hand
my stomach full
having that after dinner smoke
not having a care in the world
besides
the next cigarette
and
the next page here.
Finally.
I can put my feet up
and hold my head high.

uh strippin' ya titles n fame
Ya got no game shame I had to show up in flame
burn every last one of y'all til a single grain
snorts of ******* to rush into my brain
gives me crazy pump
like kriss kross I'll make ya jump
got ya body arched like camel humps smokin' punks like a smoke blunts pull stunts more than steevo straight evil
ya can peep me on underground radios
**** mainstream and pipe dreams
make this ***** jalel sings
more than crows gathered around for the wicked sound
body molded to th ground for tryna step to Htown fools drown
with no water slaughter
Like shots from a thousand mortars
got bids on the Satan's daughter's
ya need to get smarter y'all fallen like denzel welcome to yosef cell no bail no fairytales as I silence ya yell
from my lyrical gat that goes through ya medulla oblungata
got more ranks than shabba mister lover lover undercover like brother as I smother
ya baby mama and ya mother like no other duck her with no rubbers
cut into ya head piece like cookie cutters
see ya in sta sta sta studder
yosef be hoppin' like hoes like mudd rudders
straight from the gutters
I got rhymes for days that's was displayed before even my rhymes was said
plus **** what ya said
I'll  leave ya dome open like a Sun roof
catch. spoof off my tactics
my lyrics be more controversial than the gulf tonka make ya wonder magnificent blunders sound the thunders
once yosef grabs the Mic enticing brawls under heat lights
sweatin' cuz I'm a threat ending ya fate and might uh

Just like i told ya ya can't stop the reign
as i bring the pain more than major playa hatas
move over theres a new sheriff in town puff by the pound
its goin' down in htown time to ****** crowns
off unknown clowns whos rounds
ain't hittin' nothin' but air as i heir
the rhymes from my hip hop ancestry
like i said who spit it better than me
****** is what i write
check the obituary even burn ya cemetery
while enemies stay worried i stay buried
with rhymes that pull like tech 9s through ya mind
as ya touch the flat line
give em pump up so he get the adrenaline up
only to get knocked the ****** up
by the mister evil sinister preach lyrics as a minister
this ain't the last inning
we goin' all out til we fall out got guns that clear the skies out
nuclear blast spin around emceez like taz hit ya with jazz razzamatazz
that's the sounds of gats bustin' that ***
left ya body soakin' breath chokin' hopin'
to make it but can't shake it as i mold it then break it
like my last drip a *** i shake it
til its nothing left cook up these lyrics like a chef
even make ears open of the deaf
cuz my lyrics be so powerful irresistible hard for ya know to go
and bob ya head to my **** i hit like rockets outta space
loose ya paper chase for tryna step into yosefs face
with that disgrace that ******* you call hip hop?
i got heat tha'tll make ya lip lock hip go hippy to the hop
naw talkin' sugar hill deliver more dead than clothes to Goodwill
we ***** as the Goodfellas knockin' tailfeathers money come like atm tellers
no pin toxic rhymes poisonous as donna,bella

i won't have to
touch you, to
feel you.
peel back your
scalp, so i can
see the real you.

i could caress the answers right out of your mind
rob you blind
of your tattered old heart.
i could turn it into art.
make it better than before..
i could flourish you, grow you..
take heed of my words,
because you'll choke on yours.

underminding my ability
to have you weak in the knees,
won't help you walk.
you can barely talk.
your knees will still be weak,
i mean you studder when you speak
at least to me.

because you know your mind's at stake,
and if i want,
you'll be mine when it's late.
when the sun is underway
you'll be here
doing as i please, and what i say.

**that's why you hesitate.

My heart keeps ticking so it must be a time bomb,
when it runs out all I'll say is "Hi mom."
I've gone to hell and back without even a hand basket.
I'm just one man asking, to be void of these dreams.
I am annoyed by the screams
that haunt my serene scene of the obscene and unseen.

Can your sun lit thumb tip touch the horizon like I can?
Or will you be swallowed by the monster in my darkness,
and fill up the belly of the beast?
Piece by piece you would be quite a feast.
If truth is a religion then I am a priest,
but no where near a saint in the least.

I walk the tight rope of high hopes,
with past and future on each end of my pole.
Beneath me a hole, full of lost souls.
All mixing together in a devilishly dense soup.
Senses acute, observations astute,
I place boot in front of boot.

It's a tough balancing act, some what malice in fact.
But I can not fall and there is no room to crawl.
As if I have a choice I express my distress through my voice.
I don't studder or mumble, I make my words are clear.
I don't slip or stumble, each step is sincere.
I don't falter or crumble, I've been made strong by the fear.
Come over here and lend me your ear.
Just a storyteller telling stories if you're willing to hear.

That night when lights go out in the house,
And everyone starts to meet in one room and get scared,
because for the time being we think our sight has been blocked.
But the reason I don't move and lay inside my tomb,
to meet you all in the living room,
is because my sight is blocked because of how this is place began.
Hoping that my sight will be recovered,
But everytime I try to leave you start to studder.
And cry begging me "Please don't go! Will you ever return? For I love you oh so dearest!"
My.. I'm not so sure how I truly feel to the deepest.
For my thoughts have truly drained from me like the grains beneath us slowly returns to Mother Earth.
I cracked a window every night just to feel how cool it was outside,
when inside it felt nothing but hot and boiling,
Because every time I was inside I was busy toiling.
Away and away I would go into the depths of thought,
When everytime you all sat at dinner you forgot,
That we were born to truly believe and feel on our own,
But everytime I would share my thoughts you would always say "You're not grown!"
Just because everytime I would bash the throne
For which you sat upon when I was handling something you've thrown in my face.
This house is not a house, it's much deeper than that.
But that's for what you decide, and I'll wait for the replied.

With every ripped, ****** wing
We sin and curse the lords
And for the consequence
We depart from the heavenly gates
Forever cast away
Our own creators
Send us a-stray
As we descend from the golden gates
With blood and scars apon our face
The blasting heat of the atmosphere's force
Burns the silky skin
  
Now apon this a-cursed earth one more
We fight ourselves inside
We rip at the vacant hole
That use to contain a soul
The acid tears run down our cheeks
As all our memories remain bitter-sweet
  
We shudder when the warmth of the sunlight falls apon our face
The glistening silky touch of the rays
Burn like the reality we must face
The reality
That we are trash
That we were not wanted to live in peace
That we must walk the earth for a Melania
Never to find
That we can not die
  
Instead
We creep into the cities
We live among the humanoid figures
That we once were
We dress in the same attire as anyone else
We hate, and love like anyone else
We eat, we drink like anyone else
We shed dark maroon blood like anyone else
We can feel the silky touch and tingle of a kiss apon the lips or body like anyone else
  
Yet
We do not die like anyone else
We do not age like anyone else
We do not live as anyone else
For we have already passed away
Eternal rest
Our bodies cursed
To walk this earth
For eternity
  
Yet
We look as anyone else
For we cover up
What should be revealed
The walking dead
Our wounds never heal
  
Tormented daily
By the pain of a never resting body
The tension we face
When we finally break
snap
The sudden rush of misery
Of reality
Of the years
And years
We've been forced to cry
And plead that we may return
To the one place we can rest
So that we may somehow find inner peace
So that we may sleep
  
But no
That will never come again
We were fools
And we paid the price
These acid tears run down our face
Once more
  
As we find a shallow ditch to hide
A shallow ditch in which we lay
To somehow cry the years away
This shallow ditch
Is called a grave
  
The very grave in which our earthly humanoid bodies lay
As the bones and flesh rot away
The stench of the dead that lay so silent
Fills our noses
We lay next to our former selves
And wonder
Why?
  
Why was it I who shall be cast down back to earth?
To live out this evil curse
As we scream at the top of our lungs
A simple question that will never be answered
"Why?"
  
Although there is more to this simple word
What we define with that simple word
Has more energy than we have left
So we sum it up with "Why?"
  
We try to pray every day
Alas we studder
We choke on the holy words
That spill out from our lips
They do not fit the tongue
They sound as foreign as our own presence on this earth once more
Though we say them every day
"Father into your hands I commend my spirit,
Father. . . . . . Why?
Why have you forsaken me?!"
The prayer is broken by betrayal
  
We ponder at the thought
Of why we still pray
Most likely
To be cast away
Once more
  
We break the thoughts with acts of hate
The hate comes from the reality
That the lord sits and smirks
As we suffer and crawl in the mud
As our spirits are broken
And the mind snaps
As we break our backs
As we try to become sane once more
  
Fallen angels
Of hate
Of lies
Of Blood and gore
Of death and light
Of lust
Of ******
  
As these broken hallow bodies
Walk once more
Their wings ripped from there skin
By their very own creator
Only long scars along the back can be seen
  
As our looks remain pristine
We walk among the living
As though we are real
But alas
We are but spirits that seem so life-like
You can touch
The very fabrication we are
Nothing but light and heavy iridescent chains
Though the hands run straight through them
As if they shan't weigh us down
To earth to live out this curse
  
Once more
We live
But not so as the simple mind it seems
We
Are fallen angels
Of the lords creation
Gone wrong

Crossing that border. Hope that we don't studder. Or ponder. What's the next step?
The screech from a cracked window. And the memories flood again. Going to serve the poor. A piece of glass. The separation of life and death. He took it all. And He first loved me. With eyes of compassion He bore my cross and set my dry bones free. Gave me wings to fly. All the glory is for Him, who has healed all my scares. And helped me breathe again.
Return to the dirt. Opened eyes. The light inside. Truly see them. The smiles and waves. The little hands and ***** faces.
The pure hearts in a darkened place.
Waking up to praise His name. Walking bold with our hearts a flame.
We find peace in eyes of the old.
Freckles and winkles. Little laughs and curios glances. Questions. Oh questions.
The ruins and faded stains of graffiti, the crumbles of trash and the dust keeps you sneezing.
The heat on your back, am I going to be fine? Trust in God. With all my heart. My soul. And mind.
Moving forward. Can't turn back now. These wings are meant to fly. Preach with our mouth closed and sing with new hope.
Heart begins to beat. One body. One stride.
Let's be His hand and feet and keep our heads high.

God Ordained Moses to Lead Israel Out of Egypt

Moses was out for a leisure walk and saw a fire
and upon taking a closer look at what was burning,
he was greatly surprised to discover a bush was on
fire, but was not being consumed. As he stood wondering at it, a voice boomed out of it, saying, "TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES! YOU ARE STANDING ON SACRED GROUND!"
As Moses was taking off his shoes, the voice continued speaking:" I am the God of your father,
of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. I have been listening to
the prayers of my people in Egypt, and see the affliction upon them from their taskmasters, and am moved by their sorrows. I am going to rescue them
from the slavery of the Egyptians and lead them to a land of milk and honey.
Moses, I have chosen you to go talk to the Pharoah of Egypt and lead my people, the children of Israel out of Egypt"

And Moses said, "I am greatly honored that you think enough of me for such a worthy responsibility,
but I am not your man for such a task. For one thing
I am not a good talker, and besides that I am slow of speech."

God replied to Moses
"Moses" said God "Throw down your rod on the ground." And Moses did as God told him, and his
rod became a snake. "Now pick it up by it's tail" And when Moes did so, the snake returned into Moses rod.
Then God spoke again to Moses saying, " Now put your hand under your shirt."  And when he pulled his hand out, it was white with leprously. "Now return your hand, which Moss did and when Moses drew his hand back out, it was as healthy as his other hand.
"Now Moses, if my people will not follow you by
these signs, dip some water from the river and pour some on the ground and it shall turn into blood."

But Moses still was not convinced he was the man for the task God was calling him to do.

He began making excuses why he was not God's man for the task.
"I am not eloquent"
"I am not a speaker"
"I studder when I talk"
"Th e leaders of Israel will not believe me"

God had an answer for every excuse Moses came up with.
He recruited Aron, Moses's brother, to convey to Moses His
words to tell Israel and Pharaoh.

Is the only thing I think about now
Being tired is the only thing that consumes me
The obsessiveness to sleep eats me whole
And I just…

want
to
sleep

Everything seems like its swirling around me like a tornado
but to you it's a draft in a vacant house
Sleep, it's so simple
but it's the hardest thing I could ever obtain
the thought of never waking up again
is a craving i cannot feed
the cold fingers of anxiety grip me
and it's what leaves burn marks during steaming hot showers
it's the feeling of drowning in heavy piles of words made of dirt
mud, grease and sweat
every word has a taste, texture and smell that makes you
Lust for more. Ache for the words that will quench your thirst
Those words….they are the ones that keep you up at night

Those words are the ones that keep you waiting till 1 am but
they never seem to show
they are the ones you can't seem to grasp
The unspoken ones
The ones that make you studder
The ones that make you so frustrated that you can't think straight
They are the ones that make your lip quiver and heart ache
And that feeling for me will never go away

Creative genius.
Left the room.
No soon.
Too soon.
We thought the habit
Leached and drew.
A poisoned wound.
But none knew.
Just what the **** youd come to do.
You changed the world.
Accept it.
Your made for excellence.
Not second best and.
If your fed up.
Make your mind become.
A messenger of truth.
In place of critics. Fakes.
And jesters...
Blessed is the hunter.
Keep my brother safe. If he loves her.
Give them comfort.
Help. The studder in my veins.
Impart the arch Angel's gabriel. To lift me up n give their  wonders
Come from rumblings.
Of hunger.
In the den of Odin's offspring.
Give me. Glares of wildfire
Come from lightning
In the summer.
But make it known.
My throws of toxic body odours.
Are the keeper of the dungeons
Wonders.
My body. Reeks of *** and slumber.
Peek obsession.
Bleed the demons. That live under
Covers. While my stomach suffers.
**** it. I'm the last to know it...
It's a mass emotion.
I display the world. My joy devotion.
In Hope's I'll make it out
In fact. And grow a set of ****
You witless *****.
Your still the **** we know it