If you take a minute
To watch the seconds
We ought to be careful
The hands of time
Hold our futures
Every piece of pride,
Pivoting on the pinnacle of pleasure,
Perishing on the petals of a rose,
A perverted willingness to pursue,
The spoils of what matters most,
Outshone a impossibly beautiful performance.
One meant for the faithful & virtuous.
Reality hanging by a thread.
Coke cans and cannons by my bed.
Show girls shooting up to the head.
Solace for the strong, seizures for the dead.
Pac in the boombox
If the packs don't boom I hope the boom pops.
If the boom don't pop she got a new pops.
Red lips serving blows up on the new blocks.
Humble pie in my abode in a bid to abide.
But the coke on the stove says the law is a lie.
Caught slipping, no snitching so my name shall survive.
Out in 10, when I return
Throw some paper to the sky, let the wind and caution colide.
I'll need a long island on the rocks.
Escape the piles we turn to rocks.
We held their lives within our glocks.
The doors were locked so we turned to the knocks.
Boys in the hood with the little coke babies.
Girls in the hood holding little hope babies.
Daddy never came but we live in hope baby.
All I had were bricks, had to build a home baby.
When Sophistication and Ignorance meet. Sparks fly.
I wrote this purely on impulse. I just woke up and started typing. Then I stopped, Listened to Kendrick's Section80, watched Al Pachino's Scarface and got back to it.
If you don't understand it you shouldn't. The echelons play a vital part in life, know yours.
I tore a hole in my forever.
I took my time
And lost it along the way
Maybe we're in the rapture
Maybe you weren't meant to stay
Maybe I'm too mellow
And you're too me
Maybe I'm Othello
And you're a Queen
Maybe I'm the bass
And you're the lead
Maybe it just
Wasn't meant to be
Life is for the livid
Live it without regrets
Don't let other people run it
They'll soon be out of breath
Pace yourself old sport
Your youngest years will be your best
Time is constant yet ever changing
Enjoy her spoils while you're still in her caress
For soon you will be nothing but a ball of wisdom and memories
With eyes which bear one simple plea
Love can be given
Love cannot give
Truth can be hidden
But love is a fib
Love doesn't live here
Love doesn't live
If love doesn't die
Then death is a myth
My eyelids paint a different shade of paradise each morning.
Forced to make a mural of the world I was born in.
Your barren brown and battered blue,
Are only beautiful to those you matter to.
The clouds, in their grey suits, had promised you greener pastures.
We could've taken better care of you, if only you'd asked us.
You're inanimate by definition,
To me you're the only thing truly living.
We're sorry for trashing the house as if it was our own.
We'll clean it up before dad comes home.
All this destruction is something I can do without.
Sorry mom, I'm moving out.
New planet anyone?
What's current is a stream
As the water falls so do the years.
The trickling time plays tricks.
That it never played when we were kids.
Money was useless on the river banks.
The **** water was rich in memories.
When we were water babies.
When the skies filled with tears we would wash away our fears.
Running in the rain we were only running from our pain.
We forgot about the ifs and maybes.
We were water babies.
All the waves and the smiles.
They were ****** into viols.
We had to spare them for the weekends "you're now a school child" We once.
Were water babies
So the tide raged on and so did our teenage hormones. For 'the thirst' can i get some...
Just an analogy of life and how we lost the plot when we decided to "grow up"... The structure of the poem is testament to the fact that life gets shorter (the stanzas decrease in length as the poem progresses). The aquatic theme is borrowed from someone I deeply care about, she who is as pure as water itself. Okay okay enough explaining. Bleh :')
I'll let you figure out the rest for yourself. Enjoy
Solace is found within Triumph
Triumph is brought by Trial
Trial is experienced through Pain
Pain is harboured in Words
Words are of the Tongue
The Tongue is taught by the Mind
The Mind is taught by the Eye
The Eye learns from People
People learn from books
Books harbour Words
Words must be written
Writing is Solace.
Dedication defined as the derivative of desperation.
Defined but not definite.
If only I could I'd find it.
A way out of the blue.
The blue is you.
A way out of your constant glare
Unaware you stare
I seek something to shade me
You are my shade
Yet you enslave me
The sky that raised me
The ground that grazed me
The trees that praised me
Now aim to sway me
They test me
They ask me
Who are you?
Who are you now?
Rocking all that gold from our bowel.
Why will you not bow?
I refuse to stand for it.
I will lie if I have to.
I will **** a man for it.
But this me.
This world is what I made it.
So sway all you want.
My success cannot be evaded.
Die every night.
Live every day.
Cease and become.
If you are truly living.
If you are living truly.
I wish death upon you.
Be you. A different one everyday.
May the last breath I draw
Be a masterpiece.
A restless sea of thought
Is trailing after me
Paint vivid waves of shore
Before the tidal cease
Inclined to the moons allure
I write for peace
The sea of life is rife
The rifle is loaded
I have fought my fight
Thankful to have known it
Morning settles on the dew.
Mirages of you, settle in my view.
While the sky settles with its hue.
I settle thoughts of settling with you.
I wouldn't mind settling for this.
Except, humming birds never settle in their nests.
East is what you know best
But It's always warmer in the west.
When the sky changes its hue it changes with you.
Looks can be deceiving but changes are true.
When the night comes, You come apart.
When the snow becomes dark, So does your heart.
The birds in the east never really gave you an option.
'No' only meant proceed
I find myself
All too often
To your many contortions
You'd bend over in every way for me, anytime.
What a short forever that was.
Learning to accept that humming birds never settle in their nests.
Learning that when the dew falls, it's only for the best.
Learning to live without the air that is you baby.
You were so hot last night, it turned you into dew baby
Gusts of genius
The lunar lunatic
Purple skies are vigil
Rife with enthusiasm
Quill to canvas
Flight is taken
Taken aback by the morning
In mourning we retreat
Maestro of monotony
Morrow I am bound to repeat.
She will die
Her legacy will dilate
She will diarise
Her dire straits
On diamond slates
She will die a dilute of what was once a concentrate.
Contemplate what her cons can connotate but exonerate all thoughts which harbour hate.
No, she is not a saint.
No, she is not a villain.
Oh she has made me great and
So she will make my children
Yesterday was the rain.
Today is the sun.
The son will reign.
Boreas winds undone.
I couldn't care less.
Less care more yes.
Liberation of lust but yet I lest
To deepen your detest.
Put your criterion at rest
Just live in the moment.
Let your worst be your best
Heir to the Alpha.
Beta to the wind.
Two is a cipher.
Second isn't a win
Is your life worth living?
Is your living worth life?
Are you bound by sinning?
Is divinity divine?
Are you your God?
Will your will just wilt?
God willing it might
A golden age is grey today.
The ash returned to dust.
Forgotten are those who reside in the residue.
Forgotten are those like us.
To live and die on the tip of the tongue.
We poets live forever but our words are hung.
You take the words but not the time.
You take the songs but not the chimes.
Go ahead and leave us sore.
Let them take it all.
They need it more.
They need us like we need the azure.
Respect the art.
Every moment I ought
To savour alone
Is haunted by thoughts
Of my dubious deeds.
Life was once so beautifully and seamlessly monotonous
Now its a kaleidoscope of chaos & regret.
Drawn to your canvas shoes and charcoal skin.
The temperate colors you were painted in.
2:45 and I'm mooning over your pure hue wondering,
Why you haven't squeezed out of that tubular life I found you in.
Watercolor tears emulsified by inert years,
Wash away the impressionism you pressed over your fears.
3:45 and I'm looking for a place in the sun to dry my freshly painted sin.
I guess it's safe to say, these tubular lives, we're bound by them.
— The End —