For a Love Lost

You gave the whole world what I called my own,
But the whole world knew that I could never really own you.
It’d be like trying to tame a shrew.
Is your heart made of stone,
Or even worse, steel?
Are you really “so apologetic right now” or do you secretly smile when you see my pride diminish.
Do you kiss my lips with the same lies you fuck my heart with?
Where does the love go when you cheat?
Does it go down with the cum, or does it just sit, on the middle of your tongue,
Or do you spit?
Honestly, I think you've been betrayed so many times that you think it's human nature,
But that does not vindicate your actions.
Do you laugh when you scrub away at the dirt you’ve tracked into our once happy home?
Using my heart like it’s nothing but a dirty rag; you ring my emotions out of me.
But tears quench the thirst of a dry heart,
So I’ll cry hard, and hopefully you’ll feel something.


I hate the woman you portray yourself to be,
Because deep down you’re still a little girl to me, yearning to be held in my arms and rocked
Until she knows that that there is more to her than the weight of that ass she must bear,
And that naturally she is beautiful with no makeup and no hair,
But you run, so used to being preyed upon,
That you leave the one you’ve been praying for, since age 12.
Burned, scarred, caged soul, you are beautiful beyond the pain you’ve endured,
And I don’t hate you.
Matter of fact I don’t even despise you,
I think I love you…still
Because I know that eventually you’ll cry too.
And it’s ok; tears quench the thirst of a dry heart.
So you cry hard, and hopefully I’ll feel something.

Release Me

You’ve ripped the seams from my heart and now you play with the strings,

Forming a puppet out of my guilt, my pity, and my dope feigning love for you

But my limbs are too heavy and too weak to dance the perilous tango you choreograph

For your heart jerks me back and forth with force that forces me to take the lead,

And leads me to believe that dancing to the beat of your drum will lead me to my grave.

Your drum of a heart does not pound as strong as it once did.

It is too muffled by cries of past heartbreaks.

Your song does not sound the same; the notes are too stained with guilt.

So I stand in front of you, a clock, a quarter past 12 and I’m still waiting.

My clock already went coocoo; you’re driving me insane, crazy

Crazy in love that is, and there is no scarier feeling than losing your mind and being unable to retrieve your heart,

Can’t go with your mind or with your heart.

There is no other choice but for me to take control of the wheel and wheel my own will until you will realize real eyes can see right past real lies.

So tell me the truth even if you’re afraid I’ll open my mouth and release flames that set fire to everything we have;

At least you’ll know the clock is ticking before the bomb explodes.

Don’t lie to me and tell me I ever asked you to lie to me because a lie to me lies too deep in my soul to ever allow room for forgiveness to grow.

Cut my strings, and let me go.

If a flower is constrained to a pot, it can never grow.

Cut my umbilical cord and allow me to breathe on my own.

Your life support is dangerous, you give up, on me, too easily.

- Breaking Up With Chicago

My Chicago,
You will always be my forever first love, My Chicago.
But I am tired of loving you…
Your strong arms come in light, medium, and dark
With attitudes of jerks and assholes.
Minds of cheaters, lovers, romantics, and haters.

Claustrophobic Chicago
So small you can fit everyone in your size 8 shoe so we don’t expand or get smaller.
Smell your different scents from masculine to feminine.
I am tired of loving you, My Chicago!
Bipolar Chicago.

It’s because your skin is soft…and your hair is long…
It’s because your style is different and your lips are full…

Because I can read your insides and bring them out…
Because I can’t turn your frowns upside down…
Always I will love you; My Chicago.!

But I can’t love you forever. I can’t hold on to you when you’re not mine to hold on to.
I can’t hold on to what once was, to what I’m not sure I want to rekindle.
My Chicago you have been my weakness for far too long and I will never draw rainbows if
You’re constantly giving me gray chalk…

You will always be my forever first love, My Chicago...
My Resident,

If forever your first love, then make me your only, for forever shouldn’t end so soon.
How dare you leave me with nothing to cradle in my arms, but the wind that penetrates the hole you left in my chest.
I know that when seasons change I can become colder than the lake my body lays upon,
But when the sun shines again you feel the warmth of my embrace, the warmth that you always knew was still inside of me.

I mean, don’t mean to be so vulgar baby but, I remember you used to sing melodic screams when my full lips kissed yours, the ones people can’t see when your smiling.
You wanna feel what paradise feels like? Well fill your interior with my exterior and feel how deep my love can really run.
Sweetie, you used to scream “Chicago”. I will still rock your map.
And baby, there’s more passion when we’re arguing.

Your body was sculpted to fit into the mold of my soul and sleep under the night lights that twinkle in my eyes.
You know me better than those who just tour my downtown area, looking for a good time.
Your love runs deep, to the hundreds, of projects, that were attempts to move my dignity to the southside, to the sky scrapers that allow me to rise my head high, as negative stigmas invade my westside.

You scrape my sky. Even if you move, you’ll take my winter coat, my Tims, my buck fifty hat, my Uggs, my scarf, and my skull cap,
Everything that kept you warm with me and allowed you to stick by my side, whether it be my west or southside, my north or east,
Your river of tears will always run through me.

I cannot count how many funerals, how many shootings, how many tragedies I’ve put you through.
You’ve watched seasons change, on your window pane, resting on a season’s pain, wishing I would stop the rain.
You’ve given me chance after chance to show you what real love means.
So if you must go, to save your heart, then leave.
Leaving me will be the most intricate exit thine eyes have ever seen.

Save Darfur Campaign/Show

Spring

Spring: la renaissance du monde, the renaissance of the earth, of the world.
We spring back into life like 1,2 CLEAR!
Letting the sun thaw our frozen hearts and set fire to hormones eager to arise from hibernation.
We spring into the beauty of this world like a new born baby from the womb.
We spring into sunshine, blooming and blossuming, ripping clothes from our backs like acid.
We spring into each other like bullets cause shit gets hot when spring begins
And when spring comes, she screams like a burning angel.
Brilliant it is
The feeling of flying through space and kissing the stars and making love to the moon
All because spring sprang you into it.

We spring into the sun because it’s hot and dangerous

and we know that if we touch it we’ll get burnt.

Our winter angels are now gone because of our spring devils.
Unable to obtain out feelings we sprout out onto other flowers.
Sucking the nectar and moving from one flower to another.
First a dandy lion, then a rose, to this beautiful flower called lilly.


We spring into the clouds like air planes but spring too far and we don't come back to earth.
See the winter keeps us grounded.
Heavy boots trudging through sticky snow we
Use to know how to keep our feet to the concrete
And the soles of our shoes to the souls of our hearts.


See the winter keeps us grounded.
Winter keeps our roots inside the cracks of the ground, so frozen that we are unable to move
But then the sun comes and melts the ice away and frees out leaves
so that we can grasp on to others.
And now look at us…look at us now
Unable to take care of our seeds.


So our seeds turn into limp stems
Afraid to lean towards the sun
So they walk around with their heads down like some sort of burden
Too heavy to spring itself up
Too heavy to look towards the sun
Or too light so it springs into life too fast
Not enough foundation so it dies too soon.


Our beautiful seed dies before getting a chance to even be able to drink the
earths natural waters
And since are heads are stuck in the sky and brains're being burnt away by
a devilish weed we tend to forget that we have a seed.

So they die.

Right before or eyes
But we don’t see it
And since seeds don’t have anything to
worry about they'll be ok until they turn up missing and then a couple of days turn up buried in the dirt.

Spring.

Spring.

My beautiful spring.
My god can't you grow the most ugliest things.

Will Definitely Write to This

Crash pt. 1

We used to promise each other forever.
When the sun shed light on our faces
We could see the beauty inside each other.
Our hearts as one sound
And when we made music you sounded like a marching band
And when you came you marched like a marching band
Shaking the surface we laid upon.
But now our surface is cracked
I on one region and you on the other
Floating farther away from me
As we hold hands and lock hearts
Hoping we don't fall apart.You tell me everything, even things that hurt.
I tell you some things, but hold onto secrets grasped by fear and it hurts.
I never wanted to hurt you.I wanted to love you, and hold you for as long as the night held the stars.
But somehow we could never get that far.
It's like we're riding in a car
And jealousy crashes into you, as infedelity hits my backside too,
Sending me through the window shield, shattering what's left of your heart.And we can't go back to the start so we move on.We said we'd last forever, but forever's just too long.And now only lust keeps us entact.

Fuck You with a Poem

Can I...
Fuck you with a poem?
Glide the tip of my pen
All over your soft radiant skin
Until you cum orgasmic metaphors.
Let me fuck you with a poem
Til ink drips and
Vibrates your hips
And you taste alliteration on my tongue.
Let me fuck you with a haiku, a free verse, or a sonnet.
Let me fuck you so hard u spit similies out your mouth while i taste the slant rhymes deep inside you.Let me recite a stanza that makes fire crackers moan inside you.
Let me...
Fuck you with a poem.

How to Love a Fallen Angel

A fallen angel weeps tacit cries.
Invisible tears stream down her face and dry up like a rose in a book.
Beautiful, she is for I have lack of a better word.
But her pain runs deep like basins and valleys.
Pain that rises in her eyes and sets in her tongue,
Pain that wipes away the condensation in the mirror.
Pain that makes Absolute taste unsure...
She deserves to be loved,
From the folicles of her hair down to her toe nails.
She deserves a thrown.
Let me be the one to untangle the strands of your trust and weave them together to patch up a wounded heart.
Together we could muffle the sound of the rain hitting the pavement with your sweet melodic moans.
Together we can kiss the sky and make love to the ground we stand on.
Let me revive you, fallen angel.
Let me tell you all the pretty truths and sweet everythings that simply reiterate how unworthy i am to hold a queen in my arms.
Let me kiss away all the bruises and hold a mirror up to your face to show you perfection's reflection.
Let me love you, simply.

Kill Me Hardly

Kill me hardly, don't give me no fucking lethal injection.
I want to feel your pain.
Stab me in the heart and make the sword come out through my back.
Shoot me in the head six times.
I just want to feel your pain.
Tape razor blades in my mouth and torture me until I scream and choke on my own blood.
Better yet, burn me alive, or push me in a tub of acid.
I just want reciprocity.
I just want to feel how you feel.
I just want to feel your pain so, don't kill me softly.
Then when all is done...love me gently.

Free Style Rap Verse

I'ma beast on a track like a horse with a jockey on his back.



I'm the shit. Try to flesh me down the toilet,


And it'll clog like a drain or facts in your brain.


I'm insane like a pshyco with a loose switch.


Flow retarded like a slowmo fucking lisp.


So fly like an eagle with new kicks.


Magical like Hoodini with a new trick.


So hot like a lighter with a new flick.


Haters barking like a pitt around Mike Vick.


Getting money like niqqas with white bricks.


But kinda bored so i'ma end this list...


(to be continued)

Untitled [The Genocides]

Today I shook hands with Genocide.
He just moved next door to me, and my mother made me say hello, out of courtesy.
His hands grasped mine like the sky holding on to a hurricane.
Ruff dry skin, filled with scars and invisible stains of blood touches my palms.
His fingers rap around my trembling thumb.
I hate him, even though we just met; my stomach boils like hot grits in a steel pot.
He smiles at me, teeth jagged like a coat's zipper.
He has machine guns for arms and grenades for hands,
Cannons for legs, and a gas mask for a head.
He lives right next door to me.

I walk to school with his sons.
They play games that give birth to death.
Games like "whites lynch them negros" and "Chinqs shoot the Japs",
Or "Spics stab the Beaners" and "Germans kill the Kikes".
These boys, that wear double Z's each turned 45 degrees, patched onto their arms,
They wore white bed sheets to school on Halloween.
They got white cotton and brown ropes.
They make tree houses with niggers as wind chimes,
That keep me awake at night, singing freedom songs.

His wife baked my family a cake yesterday,
Devil's food...
She asks my mother questions like how do you get your nigger naps so straight.
My father told her he was a painter.
She asked him to paint her a basket of mangosteens an guavas, strange fruit.

Tonight the Genocides invited us to dinner.
A feast of human flesh, ripped from bones, and bodies,
That once looked like ours,
But now show bones, that look white, like their oppressors.
They don't even like us,
But tonight we have a feast together.
Tonight I will lock eyes with the Genocides
And tonight I will converse with a Genocide.
So look, and listen closely, like a fly on a white wall.
Look and listen closely.
This is what Genocide feels like.

Grace

Her name is Grace; she used to be my best friend,
And every scar defines her.
The first scar she had ever gotten
Was from falling from a bike after her father let go.
And sent her, flying into the concrete and tumbling onto cracked pavement.
Glass pierced her skin like needles through a torn pair of jeans.
Blood trickled down the pavement forming a crimson river
As she laid at its mouth, like sediments in a rocky stream.


More devastating accidents were to follow
But the scars they left weren't nearly as deep as the one that tattooed her innocence, and left her heart with marks of disillusion,
These marks made by a father with no intentions of loving her
A father with every thought of lusting her.
His fist sent fierce blows to soft lips like bullets leaving automatic chambers of insecurity,
Followed by incestuous kisses and heartless moans.
Her vagina became the mold for his treachery
Leaving behind traces of disgrace,
These feelings that she will carry with her, into her grave.
These lips, that now speak words of physical desires to hide emotional despair,
wear fire-truck red and leave foot prints on body parts we only see behind closed doors,
Prostituting God's gifts in exchange for a lost love that she can only find in him.


Her body becomes poetry.
Lines as deep as valleys inscribed into weak arms and abused thighs, to make up for strong hatred and bruised ties.
She writes stories of a mother who puts her children on auction blocks in exchange for a fix.
She tries to form happy endings but these stories don't end happily.
These stories, she can never fix
So she rots, like flesh on a dead maids bones
After working on her hands and knees for all her life,
Heart heavy like a bruised fist hitting a hallow wall,
With a broken soul she has to endure.


An empty violin case, she is
Walking around an apartment that has potential to make music that the whole world can relate to
But who will she relate to?
No one
Because the world can never swallow the tragedy of a rose being raped by a weed, or gold being traded for seeds.
She she lives, in a broken shell, waiting for the world to put her back together again.

Her name is Grace; she used to be my best friend,
And every scar defines her.

Quick Update

Hey my fellow followers. I know that I haven't been active for a while but alot of work is going into my music as well as my poetry. More to come soon. Keep a look out for new songs through the facebook and facebook fan page. Peace. Stay True by Any Means.

If Heaven Had a Face

If heaven had a face she'd depict all of your imperfect perfections.
Your hair, striking like lightning but your smile, soft as the clouds God lays his head upon at night.
If heaven had a face she's smile like you.
If heaven had a face i'd build a stairway to get there.
If heaven had a face her eyes would hold my soul like yours do.
If heaven had a face her skin would shine light down upon me as i walk down that valley, of the shadows of death.
If heaven had a face no camera could capture all the beauty of her life-span, just like you.
But heaven has no face...
So i see heaven through you.

America! Awake!

America! Awake! Awake!
Awake to a poor woman feeding her son breakfast because all she has is two eggs, one piece of bread, a carton of milk, and a box of cereal.
Awake to eyes running and blood burning from watching a skeleton dangle from a tree, charred black; This was once a human being.
Awake to a baby being slaughtered, sucked out of a womb, and stuffed into the back of the mind, of a mother who was not ready.
Awake to a Hispanic gay boy being kicked out onto the steps of a Catholic church and being stuffed into Catholic school lockers for being gay.
Awake to an innocent Muslim woman wearing a hijab, being accused of terrorism against the U.S.
Awake to bloody leaders carrying life-sized wooden crosses down dirt roads to their own crucifixions.
Awake to black skin, and a white man staring you in your face, yelling , "You gon' die today nigger!"
Awake to the kiss of a gun's barrel, in the middle of your soft forehead, as sweat trickles down to your eye brow.
Awake to a jobless white man's sobs, because he had to look through a McDonald's dumpster for food again.
Awake to skin sliding off black backs, exposing white and red flesh.
Awake to your race being used as a team mascot.
Awake to being denied access to the "American Dream" because you're not American enough.
Awake to a frozen baby lying in a dumpster behind some old crack house.
Awake to a teacher telling you that you'll either be a nobody or be dead.
Awake to holding a gun while you shoot a civilian face to face, between his brown eyes, for a cause America has instilled within you.
Awake to being denied the right to marry the person you love.
Awake to a suicide attempt.
Awake to being stoned, and then burn alive.
Awake to seeing your reflection, while standing in front of a mirror.
And then...
Awake to the change you wish to see in yourself.

Making Love...

...I've never experienced this before. Having sex is fun but there is no connection. I wanna feel what it feels like to transfer love and emotions into a physical connection that only she and i can ever experience.

MisUnderstood.......

I feel like nobody fully understands me. People who try to figure me out get me totally wrong. Some people think I'm hyper-sensitive. Others think I'm an asshole. Most think I'm some poetic philosopher. But I'm none of these. I am a God of my being and most of all i am a human being. Please don't let me be misunderstood. 

Kill Yourself with the Truth

They say the apple never falls far from the tree,

Which means the fruit never falls far from its roots.

This means the strange fruit that once grew from those lynching trees

Never fell far from the slaves that knelt down on their knees

A hundred years ago, to pray to God that a change would come.

They told us that a change would come

But I haven’t seen it yet.

People gambling their souls to the devil

And he hasn’t even placed a bet.

The afraid might fear and the weak may tear

But you couldn’t hear my screams if I whispered them in your ear to you.

The United States is like a whore on the corner of a suburb,

And the government that’s pimping us isn’t the slightest bit disturbed.

Isn’t that absurd?

My pen bleeds for the seeds that never get the chance to grow past the first stage,

And my mouth is so sick and tired of speaking through a cage

That it would be an understatement to say that what I spit is just rage.

I’m furious.

Curious as to why inner city kids learn their ABC’s but don’t give a damn because their too concern with being a G

Or making one

Too busy trying to find their way instead of making one.

Two roads diverge into a wood but they’d rather take the taken one.

My brothers are the sons of guns

Because their daddies think with their triggers

Just like a Ni—

Nah I can’t even say that word

Because deriding one group is just absurd.

The Germans killed the Jews, rock music killed the blues, fake poets killed “The Cool”, and the mirror is killing you,

Because the more you see yourself, the more selfish you get.

The more you shoot blindly, the more innocent you hit,

And the more sins you commit the less innocent you get.

Karma’s effects…see?

Even if they aren’t directly,

You do me, you get done,

And that’s not a threat, see…

I’m trying to make you see everything has a consequence

Even if everything I say should be common sense.

Kids get buried before their grandparents do.

I told a mother her son got shot,

And she already knew.

It was bound to happen.

Isn’t that beautiful?

The only destiny for her kid in this world was death,

And speaking at the funeral would have been a waist of breath

So she killed herself,

Two days before the funeral,

So if you can’t live what I’m telling you,

Kill yourself.

Kill yourself with the truth.

Back on Campus

Being back on campus feels good although i miss home so much. I'm so happy to be back with my partner in crime and my wife. You know who you are.

It's You and Me Against the World

I love you. Without you i'm always lost. So it's us against the world. Fuck the haters and screw the spectators. Our love can't be seen through a snap-shot.

The N***** Word

This is how i feel about it. This is not an attempt to offend those who feel oppressed by the N word.
This song describes my entire view on it so thank you Nas.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=26zbagk1j4E&feature=fvw

My Addiction [old work]

I have an addiction;
And every night, I feel like I’m going through withdrawals.
I’m shaking and sweating;
And it’s getting…worse.
I need to do a line,
To write one I mean.
I need to pull up my sleeve and make a fist
And inject this pen tip into my wrist,
So words can flow through my veins and down my fingertips.
And I bleed all the results of my need onto the paper.
Yes I need to do this.
I need to write.
I need to write a poem.
I need to about how America is a melting pot but we’re all too busy to stir.
I need to write about how soldiers lose their brothers and come home with what’s left over.
I need to write about why we where crosses around our necks when crucifixes signify death.
I need to write about how I want to scrub the world on my hands and knees, but can’t because I don’t want to risk catching its disease.
I need to write about how I married poetry without a pre-nup.
Because I know if we break-up…she’ll take custody of our two kids, wisdom and insight.
I need to write about mother’s being fathers and fathers being martyrs.
I need to write about how drug-heads should lay in bed
And smoke shreds of my poetry
Or do a line of my lines, until they get high off my lyrical genius.
I need to write about how we are all born by a female but yet we still live in a man’s world.
I need to write about how now-a-days there is no distinction between a woman and a girl.
I need to write about how the recession is just another excuse.
I need to write about being homeless because home is where the heart is.
I need to write about how babies destined for greatness get slaughtered, sucked out, and fleshed away before their first breaths.
I need to write about Willie Lynch and Jim Crow.
I need to write about Hitler and Stalin.
I need to write about taking back our righteous minds.
I need to write about having an empty space where a heart should be.
I need to write about the other 85% of our brains since studies say humans only use 15.
I need to write about how slavery was abolished but black people still buy whips and chains.
I need to write about how I would lay in a ditch to be stoned or carry a cross to my own crucifixion if it meant we would believe in each other more.
I need to write about the pretty flowers whose absent fathers are the water they need to grow.
I need to write about how teachers are master gardeners that plant seeds of knowledge deeply rooted in our minds and pull up the weeds that try to shorten our bright futures.
I need to write about being alone because the people with money bought all the friends left.
I need to write about the rich being loveless since money can’t buy love.
I need to write the stories of all the sore losers since love is a losing game.
I need to write about being a loser since the good guy never wins.
I need to write.
I need to. I need to. I need-
My addiction is inevitable.

Nature vs. Nurture [old work]

The girl standing next to me has sweat glistening on the tip of her nose,
And the guy to my right is frozen solid with his hand on the buzzer, like the temperature suddenly dropped 100 degrees in the middle of his attempt to buzz in.
Yes, your guess is correct.
I am a contestant on Jeopardy,
And if I answer this next question correctly, I’ll have double the score of both my opponents.
I’ll take nature vs. nurture for 500 Alex.
I feel my jaw lock as my knees become weaker by the second.
“What is the most essential part of any plant’s growth?”
I buzz in with the speed of a raging bull stampede.
My mouth opens with caution and I respond.
Who is…its mother?
I stare at the question on the blue television screen.
I hear an up noxious buzz similar to a fire alarm.
“I’m sorry...but that is incorrect.”
I suddenly feel my face turn red with fury as I start to argue with him.
No sir I am the one that’s sorry sir!
No I must apologize to you sir!
For you must be deeply confused.
Because mothers nurture plants until they begin to shoot;
Into beautiful flowers from with strong roots.
Mother’s give us water and pull the sun over our heads
When the shadows of death hover over our beds.
Mothers are the gardeners,
Who pull up all the weeds before they harm us.
Mothers are the drops of water
That hydrate us when the heat beats down on our petals for too long.
Mother’s allow photosynthesis so that our stems stay strong.
And when sway left and start to hold our heads down,
Mothers pick us up again and plant us back on fertile ground.
So sir I’m sorry to have to correct you,
But mothers are the ones who protect you.

An Elegy for an Angel Lost [old work]

We all, used to be God-like beings,
Until a black cloud of insecure thoughts, and careless actions plagued the world in which we dwell upon.
And Lucifer wrapped it up, in a blanket of sin, to deliver to God as a slap in the face,
But we angels don’t give up so easily.
And even though he tries again and again to bring us, we remain victorious. God is just so glorious.
He leads us down the path of right and wrong, and even though we are tempted by Lucifer we remian strong.
All of us, together as one, bear down through hard times until we have won.
Even though the battle is between good... See More and evil is not yet undone,
We stand here together until we have won.
Won, ended the pain and strife so that all of us can have everlasting life.
We angels don’t give up; not even when our hearts are ripped half way out of our tired bodies.
It just makes it easier for us to love you.
Here on Earth walks a population of miracle workers that give life, and raise seeds, to become the beautiful flowers that bless the ground gravity pulls us to.
Angels walk upon this very Earth, and grow beautiful roses; from the cracks in the pavement.
Angels that grow daisies, in concrete jungles;
We call them Mothers.
They produce fresh air, in a world that will choke you to death, if you breathe it in too fast.
Because of this, Heaven waits for the gardeners of this world.
But Heaven could not wait for this one.

For Rana,
She lives in a penthouse, on the top floor of Heaven, right across the hall from God;
And if you listen closely, you can hear her singing a beautiful song of Cheyenne through the whistling of the trees as they hug the air at sunrise.
Cheyenne, the symphony she plays on the strings of her heart, makes God smile whenever he hears it.
Look closely into the eyes of the gorgeous people on this Earth, and you can see Rana’s beauty, through our inner Heavens.
Hold our hands, and feel the warmth of an amber stone flowing through our veins.
Embrace our chests, and hold onto our backs, as we hold you, until the pain seeps out of your heart onto the ground beneath us.
And I know some of our brothers and sister aren’t as merciful, but if you look pass the pain scraped onto their faces, you can see the God in them too.
Upstairs from an angel with gold wings, and right next door to Martin Luther King, Rana taps her foot to the melody of your voice Cheyenne.
So whenever you start to lose your breath from the rapid flow of tears, just feel the rhythm of your heart beat;
Feel the tap of your mother’s feet.
And every time the sun light shines down on your face,
Just know it’s your mother’s hand caressing your cheek as you go forth into the world.
And as you travel through this world, you’ll do whatever you feel is right.
And as the world silences itself at night; to let tragedy sleep,
Look closely at the night sky, and your mother will be sure to wink at your accomplishments.
So if there’s ever a time, when you can’t stomach not seeing the face of your beloved mother,
As your soul shatters under your soft skin and you lose what little strength you still have within you; stand in the mirror, and look up.
She will always lie within you.
And never forget, that Rana was a queen.
A queen, in the game of chess we call life; but the players, they just moved her forward too soon.
But remember, the queen will always be, on the winning side.
And the queen will always protect her platoon.
So when you feel the weight of your ever-so-welcoming heart, sink down into your stomach,
Know; that she is there for you.
And when you become tired of pulling the world’s burdens, let them go,
And we will be here to carry you the rest of the way.
We will carry you forever more,
A family separated only but for a short time.
And this family,
Will always feel for you,
Feel with you, because we are one.
We will move forward,
With hope and strength.
Remember everything you will do
Is because of her
For her.
For Rana.

Come See me Live

Check this site out. I'll be at alot of the poetry open mics on fridays and saturdays. Search the open mic guide to the right or the poetry calender also to the right. More details coming soon. http://chicagopoetry.com/ 

Food for Thought

The human mind is starving; Dying with every plate we push away,
Because knowledge, is food for the brain.
The bigots and the hypocrites cut down the tree that is missing,
So we hire liars, politicians, to fix it.
But our brains are yelling, feed me, feed me.
You need me.
But we ignore the growling of our brains.
Too busy trying to feed our stomachs, with envy
Greed is not even seen as a sin anymore
Because we plucked out our eyes, and placed them in front of TV screens,
As we binge on lies and fictional perfections
And when we are full; we go to porcelain thrones and puke up reality.
Our bodies become anorexic tombs
Because we starve ourselves of confidence while our souls die in our wombs.
And we tune in, to feed the children commercials
As out hearts sink into our stomachs.
We don't feel it though, because it's full.
But we fill our ears with concrete deceit because we don't want to hear our minds growing.
Feed me, feed me.
You need me.
More than you need make-up, or surgery, or a cigarette.
We try to get rid of it,
The hunger.
So we pick up an apple, from beside the waning tree stump,
And bite into it,
Hoping to get a taste of what knowing feels like
As we grind our teeth together, and we chew, and attempt to swallow.
But we choke,
Choke on pain
Choke on flaws
Choke on rejection
Choke on the truth;
We should have eaten when it was dinner time,
But we chose not to.
So now, we go to bed hungry,
And dream of food for thought,
While our brains growl inside our stomachs.

Quick Update

So yeah i just got back to school, and it's kind of boring. Luckily I can now post old/new work because I have retrieved my handy dandy notebook lol. So this is just a heads up. Stay True.

Don't Cry at my Funeral

Don't cry at my funeral.
Lay me in the back seat of a Cadillac so i can drive my way to heaven.
Bury me in a tomb so i can watch the flowers when they bloom in spring.
Make sure I'm in a suit tailored for a king,
and don't lay my arms across my chest.
Bury me like a soldier. 

Don't cry at my funeral.
Put a hundred dollar bill in my pocket so i can tip the gate keeper,
And put a fan in the trunk of my car just in case God isn't too happy with me.
Make sure you kiss my forehead for good luck.
Don't read me no Bible either cause i really couldn't give a fuck.
Time is already up,
So bury me like a winner.

Don't cry at my funeral;
And don't fill my empty shell with guilt,
But just in case it's chilly in heaven, you can knit me a quilt.
Don't feed me bullshit about how I'll be so very missed,
And don't weep over me because it's kind of annoying.
Just bury me like a legend.


Don't cry at my funeral. 

Put 4 pens in my hand,
And a notebook in my glove compartment.
Put Nas on my radio, with Common up next.
Give me a concept and an opinion,
But please don't tell me what and what not to write.
Bury me...like a poet.


But whatever you do,
Don't cry at my funeral.

So I'm in Love with a Girl

The Peace Maker

Skin dark like the night sky after making love to the stars,

I am an artist.

A graffiti artist painting chalk outlines.

I am a composer.

Hear my sweet symphony just before a life is ended.

Even a poet.

Reciting elegies when human clocks stop running.

My work

Is visible at bedsides of death beds and in guilt-filled caskets across the nation.

They call me

The peace maker.

Hold me close and grasp me in your sweaty palms.

See how my body just feels so good next to yours.

I make you feel power-full; or power-less depending on which end of me you face.

But don't stare at me directly in the face; Don't hold me too tight either because i just might,

Blow

Like a fire cracker inside of a bullet proof case, 

I explode at the sight of an enemy.

My song sings silently across battle fields as my heart beats rapidly on the offensive side.

Feel me up with emotions of pain and anger; Then  squeeze me at an adversary,

But be careful 

Because i pay no attention to name tags.

Only, death tags and body bags,

And if you don't aim me correctly,

You might not be on the winning side anymore.

Because losing is not at all a stranger to me.

Whether it be the loss of a life or the loss of the entire game it's

All the same, to me.

But I am the peace maker. 

Even though i keep ears covered and heads tucked below bed frames,

And even though i make fathers, sons, and brothers disappear.

I may take an innocent life now and then,

And i may have killed some of our best leaders or maybe the lesser men.

But I am.

I am the peace maker.

Tears and tacit cries pierce the ears of mourners across the world.

I am a universal concept.

I am the reason you fear walking the streets alone at night.

I am the reason you rot behind mind altering bars.

I am the street corner.

I am the battle field.

I am the dirt road.

I am 

The peace maker.
Squeeze my hand.
Make me sound.

And watch the world around you shatter into pieces.

Like a bullet, kissing the forehead of a glass doll.

Lust, Love, Sex

Lust

Our eyes catch each other in sweaty palms as we embrace each other,

Hearts beating the rhythm we shall make love to.

We fall like a feather from a cliff

And we take snap shots of each others insides,

Because we make each others insides smile.

Love

Put your heart inside my body

And my spirit fits so perfectly inside you.

We grasp each others feelings until we

Squeeze the love out of our souls.

We feed on mental fixations.

Sex

We wrestle like a hurricane being drowned by the sea.

I devour every inch of you

And fill your empty mold with cups of my soul.

I march into the valley of your beautiful body

And taste the rain drops that fall onto my tongue.

I tell you, follow me, follow me to the highest peak

You finally agree with this gesture.

And you come.

Now, we stare up into the sky

In awe.

Like vs. Love

I have a huge dilemma. What do you do when you start liking someone else while separated from the one you're in love with? Then, when it's time to go back to where you belong, you risk hurting the one you like...i don't know if this sounds confusing but hopefully you get the point. I'm supposed to think with my heart and not with my mind but it's hard to differentiate between the two at times...i have no idea what to do...but time will tell.

Topic Request

Okay so I need a sense of what people want me to discuss and what interests my followers so feel free to send topic requests. Thanx =) Stay True.

Hey

So I just started this blog page today thanks to my best friend Dyamond (http://dyamondt1.blogspot.com/). I'll try to post blogs everyday or every other day. Hope you all appreciate my thoughts, views, and opinions. Stay True.