I put justice in just ice,
Frozen in righteous, but the heat of your arrogance
Melts away the corner stone of life that was built in the fluidity of our history.
We are changing and spilling over...we can be changed...but never contained.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Sankofa
And that's where we are.
Thriving on the last pocket of life before we slumber.
Like the world was our party hall..
Nights over, stop the music, bring the lights down.
This is just the beginning.
No the rewind.
This is the birth traveled in tracks already impressed with steps learning how to guide.
The black flower grew greater, stronger, and younger as time pressed on.
Off axis this bloom became bud and I prayed.
Thanking God for teaching us to sleep only when we know the meaning of each step we take.
As if salvation was a word we were born with,
And learning to be was forgotten in an attemp to allow our conscious to bloom.
Being responsible was washed out with the idea of fear.
Our need to examine unlearned to relying on outside inspiration when the ability to exist and experience still swells joy in my heart.
I can't help but let my tongue learn the palets of all the wonderful dishes each breath of life grants us.
Impervious as you may think you are to the harsh and brutal realities you must face daily,
Are you strong enough to exude the vulnerability it would take to allow someone to share this journey with you,
As well as be giving enough to let them take lead in order to make it all the way home.
Night time comes,
Or is it leaving.
Her star shines brighter,
The east is in flames, blinding us to the destruction of now
And forging our trip back westward
Hoping to reach back to where it all began..
Return of the waves of sound back to the drum.
Home.
Thriving on the last pocket of life before we slumber.
Like the world was our party hall..
Nights over, stop the music, bring the lights down.
This is just the beginning.
No the rewind.
This is the birth traveled in tracks already impressed with steps learning how to guide.
The black flower grew greater, stronger, and younger as time pressed on.
Off axis this bloom became bud and I prayed.
Thanking God for teaching us to sleep only when we know the meaning of each step we take.
As if salvation was a word we were born with,
And learning to be was forgotten in an attemp to allow our conscious to bloom.
Being responsible was washed out with the idea of fear.
Our need to examine unlearned to relying on outside inspiration when the ability to exist and experience still swells joy in my heart.
I can't help but let my tongue learn the palets of all the wonderful dishes each breath of life grants us.
Impervious as you may think you are to the harsh and brutal realities you must face daily,
Are you strong enough to exude the vulnerability it would take to allow someone to share this journey with you,
As well as be giving enough to let them take lead in order to make it all the way home.
Night time comes,
Or is it leaving.
Her star shines brighter,
The east is in flames, blinding us to the destruction of now
And forging our trip back westward
Hoping to reach back to where it all began..
Return of the waves of sound back to the drum.
Home.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Dichotomy
I try to make sense of things.
I think that what I think is sensible,
Though sometimes I can't always explain the sense in it.
My dreams Elysian to a sankofa not wrongly theorized,
Nutshell sized holocausts hide behind the mirror we call pupils.
Nurtured 2 full grown M80s behind exercises of free will.
I willed rose petals into steps,
Mountains into heavens,
And heavens into tap water.
Ripples form tidal waves of the thought falsely informed as I continue to try to read your actions.
I am tired.
Your name changes, facial features alter, and still...
I can't seem to shake you.
It's like you follow the part of me that luminates your dream and sucks the life away.
The problem is, it's my life.
My energy you drain with second guessing, doubting, and fearing that you'll succeed.
You are not just the catalyst,
You are the pivotal moment in my life where even sunshine burns as apposed to shines.
The fire of your passion's flame is blue...and I..
I am just flesh and blood born on the planet Earth.
I am not Kryptonian,
Beneath these clothes are only under garments.
No red and blue tights, no family crests.
I am built in the perfectly adequate image of a supposed God figure.
But I am not God, we are not deities...
We are only two I's, not seeing the same vision.
Neither being perfect, you not seeing past what's in front of your face,
And me, so caught up in what's to come, I can't see what's right in front of me.
Life is not a masquerade, though all the masks and colorful costumes speak otherwise.
I truly believe that you are the mask-less frame in this world full of exaggerated characters.
I want to believe you are who you say you are,
You don't just aspire to be better, but are proactive in its execution.
Assassinate these notions of that you are not good enough for the happiness that stalks you.
Pierce your self pity through the heart with the conviction that you are an example that anything is possible through being able to persevere.
I stare deeply into this mirror...
Not made of reflective glass, paneled in wood.
But flesh...bone and skin...
Soft and uncallused.
You are an image of me past.
I imagine what my past would have been with you..
Wonder if I have traveled too far and passed the place where we would have been able to be...
Wondered if I passed you on my way to figuring out our simple, yet complex dichotomy.
I think that what I think is sensible,
Though sometimes I can't always explain the sense in it.
My dreams Elysian to a sankofa not wrongly theorized,
Nutshell sized holocausts hide behind the mirror we call pupils.
Nurtured 2 full grown M80s behind exercises of free will.
I willed rose petals into steps,
Mountains into heavens,
And heavens into tap water.
Ripples form tidal waves of the thought falsely informed as I continue to try to read your actions.
I am tired.
Your name changes, facial features alter, and still...
I can't seem to shake you.
It's like you follow the part of me that luminates your dream and sucks the life away.
The problem is, it's my life.
My energy you drain with second guessing, doubting, and fearing that you'll succeed.
You are not just the catalyst,
You are the pivotal moment in my life where even sunshine burns as apposed to shines.
The fire of your passion's flame is blue...and I..
I am just flesh and blood born on the planet Earth.
I am not Kryptonian,
Beneath these clothes are only under garments.
No red and blue tights, no family crests.
I am built in the perfectly adequate image of a supposed God figure.
But I am not God, we are not deities...
We are only two I's, not seeing the same vision.
Neither being perfect, you not seeing past what's in front of your face,
And me, so caught up in what's to come, I can't see what's right in front of me.
Life is not a masquerade, though all the masks and colorful costumes speak otherwise.
I truly believe that you are the mask-less frame in this world full of exaggerated characters.
I want to believe you are who you say you are,
You don't just aspire to be better, but are proactive in its execution.
Assassinate these notions of that you are not good enough for the happiness that stalks you.
Pierce your self pity through the heart with the conviction that you are an example that anything is possible through being able to persevere.
I stare deeply into this mirror...
Not made of reflective glass, paneled in wood.
But flesh...bone and skin...
Soft and uncallused.
You are an image of me past.
I imagine what my past would have been with you..
Wonder if I have traveled too far and passed the place where we would have been able to be...
Wondered if I passed you on my way to figuring out our simple, yet complex dichotomy.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Tone Deaf
Said she couldn't hear me over the music...
She couldn't hear me over the myuu-oo-oo-sic..
She couldn't hear me over the music...
She never really knew my song...
She spoke every word as if they left my lips,
And traveled directly to her ear
Without a solitary soul hearing my thoughts.
She brought tightly rolled L's to my cove..
We wrapped in each others psychie
Strummed the strings of our past lives
To play the Now melody.
With staccato movements,
Tight lipped ombresher,
And heavy sticking...
Our percussion was 3 bass,
With twice the sound,
Three snares with 3 times as much flare.
Our decibels were peaking.
I was so caught up in the melody I paid no attention to the chord changes.
Our conversation became flat.
We would argue and throw sharp insults back and forth like knives.
What was a quick paced fortissimo has become a sfortsando...careening into a decrescendo.
I raised my hands to signal the volume to rise..
And realized I was no longer the conductor.
I was part of the audience..
So caught up in my own show that I had not realized the curtain closed,
The day ended,
And there was a new show,
You left my orchestra to joint his quintet.
To feel like you served a bigger purpose.
To feel like you were more than just ambient noise
To feel like you were the harmony.
It was too late for me to tell you...
It was too late for me to scream over the climax of our overture!
You were the melody...
I just tried to help you stand out...
So the world could see how intricately you were scored...
But...
She couldn't hear me over the music,
She couldn't hear me over the myuu-oo-oo-sic.
She couldn't hear me over the music,
She never really knew my song.
She couldn't hear me over the myuu-oo-oo-sic..
She couldn't hear me over the music...
She never really knew my song...
She spoke every word as if they left my lips,
And traveled directly to her ear
Without a solitary soul hearing my thoughts.
She brought tightly rolled L's to my cove..
We wrapped in each others psychie
Strummed the strings of our past lives
To play the Now melody.
With staccato movements,
Tight lipped ombresher,
And heavy sticking...
Our percussion was 3 bass,
With twice the sound,
Three snares with 3 times as much flare.
Our decibels were peaking.
I was so caught up in the melody I paid no attention to the chord changes.
Our conversation became flat.
We would argue and throw sharp insults back and forth like knives.
What was a quick paced fortissimo has become a sfortsando...careening into a decrescendo.
I raised my hands to signal the volume to rise..
And realized I was no longer the conductor.
I was part of the audience..
So caught up in my own show that I had not realized the curtain closed,
The day ended,
And there was a new show,
You left my orchestra to joint his quintet.
To feel like you served a bigger purpose.
To feel like you were more than just ambient noise
To feel like you were the harmony.
It was too late for me to tell you...
It was too late for me to scream over the climax of our overture!
You were the melody...
I just tried to help you stand out...
So the world could see how intricately you were scored...
But...
She couldn't hear me over the music,
She couldn't hear me over the myuu-oo-oo-sic.
She couldn't hear me over the music,
She never really knew my song.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Seven Pounds
There is so much of life we live for ourselves . Never taking stake in the lives of others or exert the energy it would take to fix whatever problems we have to fix. I wonder if any one man amassed the fortune it would take to heal all the wounds from the worlds many lacerations, would he. An addage I've heard since I was too young to remember is, "You can't take it with you." Which raises the question, why work so hard to have something you'll ultimately lose. As with love, we search for it for, thrive for it, pain from the loss of it, and swell from idea that you may have a chance at it. Eventually, if you are lucky enough, you find that man/woman who sets your soul on fire at the thought of them. If you're luckier than that, you date, fall in love, and marry. Live, have children become old...and here's when the fairytale ends. One of you leaves this world before the other...and everything you've existed for shifts. The center of your world is disappears. Your core dies and the process to find a new core weight begins, as if you are reliving all the events of your life if you've chosen a different path to execute it. These different variables draw question upon question which all comes back to why. The finite of the five inquisitions which plagues humanity to find reason. Life is too short not to share or experience. Not to feel, grasp by its very essence and hold on to each moment. They are each the most important seconds of your existance because you cannot get them back. We think ever so little of seconds we take to predetermine how important any persons welfare, feelings, or existance is to us. These type of judgements, if they are ever needed to be made should require more than the seconds we take to bat our eyes away the homeless, turn our noses up at dreamers, and throw daggers at those who dare to live to their own standards. We are imperfectly exact to whom we are all supposed to be...no one else. Sometimes the seven tons of pressure we allow our judgement to anchor our lives down with is really as light as seven pounds.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Earth and Air
You are the air that I breathe
And I your fertile ground.
We plant these seeds, with the need to learn patience,
So latent from a feeling that sparked when eyes met.
This may sound pathetic,
But the energy between us is kinetic.
I'm serious!
If I stare into your eyes long enough,
I can hear your thoughts.
I can feel you blushes
Like words left your mouth
And it was my heart it touches.
You are so luscious,
Cocoa whipped cream
That I feen for,
But slowly take steps so it means more.
More...
More time for you, Venus,
Cause you're too heavenly to just be my Earth.
I don't wish to be Jupiter,
Cause what good is a king without his queen?
No, I'm merely Saturn,
Daydreaming of the day she wears my rings,
And I carry her across the threshold of our personal universe.
My air princes,
With wintery cold fronts I never wish to see.
Can I exist on just one of your summer breezes?
Can your warm air ease in through my nostrils,
Live in my chest,
And transform into a million, "I Love You"s as it exits through my mouth.
I stand vigilant,
Your rock century.
Who life blew across time from a pebble into a mountain.
Broken down by past love into the form you see...
Willing to brave the world for you
Simply because I would get to share the world with you.
We are earth and air, with us life can exist.
My Libra enchantress,
Thank you for allowing this Capricorn's sun to finally shine through.
And I your fertile ground.
We plant these seeds, with the need to learn patience,
So latent from a feeling that sparked when eyes met.
This may sound pathetic,
But the energy between us is kinetic.
I'm serious!
If I stare into your eyes long enough,
I can hear your thoughts.
I can feel you blushes
Like words left your mouth
And it was my heart it touches.
You are so luscious,
Cocoa whipped cream
That I feen for,
But slowly take steps so it means more.
More...
More time for you, Venus,
Cause you're too heavenly to just be my Earth.
I don't wish to be Jupiter,
Cause what good is a king without his queen?
No, I'm merely Saturn,
Daydreaming of the day she wears my rings,
And I carry her across the threshold of our personal universe.
My air princes,
With wintery cold fronts I never wish to see.
Can I exist on just one of your summer breezes?
Can your warm air ease in through my nostrils,
Live in my chest,
And transform into a million, "I Love You"s as it exits through my mouth.
I stand vigilant,
Your rock century.
Who life blew across time from a pebble into a mountain.
Broken down by past love into the form you see...
Willing to brave the world for you
Simply because I would get to share the world with you.
We are earth and air, with us life can exist.
My Libra enchantress,
Thank you for allowing this Capricorn's sun to finally shine through.
Friday, October 31, 2008
49er
I'm a forty niner,
Not pigskin and grid iron but,
Pick axe and dungarees searching for,
Praying for,
Yearning for,
Golden bars of poetry and verse.
Sifting through your bullshit bravado,
Say-ying your heart-less rhymes in sta-cca-to
No dough rays me fa prose or cheap flows.
Those keep my heart closed from these hoes.
Pimps, tricking their treasure for leisure,
Suited for suicide, burlap guillotine tie
With kerosene combed hair
Dripping wet and trailing behind you from show to show.
You are fool's folly, dumby rock, the piss covered salt stone,
Alchemists who are trained to feign the philosopher's,
Stone cold frauds!
I am a forty niner.
In search wealth and a better life,
So I sacrifice my soul to rhythm of hymns,
Humming Tao tones,
Which sound like dial tones.
Operator, is there a long distance number for me to reach Dilla on.
Can I call collect to Scott La Rock cause the bridge is out.
I'm out of range, can you please give me the exchange to Isaac Hayes suite on the seventh tear of heaven.
Cause to get through one more day of this foolishness I need healing from Black Moses.
I'm loosing it!
Slipping on this phone trying dial heaven from earth,
Thinking I could piggy back my signal from from a satelite I confused for angel's wings.
I am a forty niner!
I am the listener of lies,
The meditator of myths,
That scribed the hieroglyphs on sandstone and pressed them on the foreheads of kings till they became legend.
I am legendary!
I am now!
I am this very moment mounted on the precipice of your earlobe.
Waiting to be blown full force into your eardrum by sound of my voice.
The vocal hurricane which you had more than enough time to avoid,
But is so strong you were bludgeoned by pieces of levy...
Wait.
That's your ignorance caving in from all my mining...
Burrowing through your bones till hollow.
Hollowing out your heart and I borrow,
From my well to refill you inspiration...
So you can have your own water to sift through the bullshit...
I am a forty niner...
I mine souls to find gold so bright and bold it blinds the sun.
I am forty niner, from Monday to Friday,
Twenty four sets of eyes gaze upon me as I,
Try my damnedest to find gold so bright it blinds the sun within them.
Except for the one whose twin...was ripped out by a gun.
Leaving one.
I am a forty niner!
Not pigskin and grid iron but,
Pick axe and dungarees searching for,
Praying for,
Yearning for,
Golden bars of poetry and verse.
Sifting through your bullshit bravado,
Say-ying your heart-less rhymes in sta-cca-to
No dough rays me fa prose or cheap flows.
Those keep my heart closed from these hoes.
Pimps, tricking their treasure for leisure,
Suited for suicide, burlap guillotine tie
With kerosene combed hair
Dripping wet and trailing behind you from show to show.
You are fool's folly, dumby rock, the piss covered salt stone,
Alchemists who are trained to feign the philosopher's,
Stone cold frauds!
I am a forty niner.
In search wealth and a better life,
So I sacrifice my soul to rhythm of hymns,
Humming Tao tones,
Which sound like dial tones.
Operator, is there a long distance number for me to reach Dilla on.
Can I call collect to Scott La Rock cause the bridge is out.
I'm out of range, can you please give me the exchange to Isaac Hayes suite on the seventh tear of heaven.
Cause to get through one more day of this foolishness I need healing from Black Moses.
I'm loosing it!
Slipping on this phone trying dial heaven from earth,
Thinking I could piggy back my signal from from a satelite I confused for angel's wings.
I am a forty niner!
I am the listener of lies,
The meditator of myths,
That scribed the hieroglyphs on sandstone and pressed them on the foreheads of kings till they became legend.
I am legendary!
I am now!
I am this very moment mounted on the precipice of your earlobe.
Waiting to be blown full force into your eardrum by sound of my voice.
The vocal hurricane which you had more than enough time to avoid,
But is so strong you were bludgeoned by pieces of levy...
Wait.
That's your ignorance caving in from all my mining...
Burrowing through your bones till hollow.
Hollowing out your heart and I borrow,
From my well to refill you inspiration...
So you can have your own water to sift through the bullshit...
I am a forty niner...
I mine souls to find gold so bright and bold it blinds the sun.
I am forty niner, from Monday to Friday,
Twenty four sets of eyes gaze upon me as I,
Try my damnedest to find gold so bright it blinds the sun within them.
Except for the one whose twin...was ripped out by a gun.
Leaving one.
I am a forty niner!
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