Sunday, August 10, 2014
Saturday, August 9, 2014
Love language
Love spoke to me today,
she told me that she's me now.
Love spoke to me today,
she told me she's free now.
I can't believe the future I see now.
Lust keeps me looking back.
I'm distracted by the acts of agony and mishap,
That break my stride and mute my song,
I'm right here but still so gone,
and I keep grinding pushing on,
because I'm too strong to move on.
My mother's mad at me my auntie is disappointed,
two women one voice; they're words are so anointed.
They're prayers saved my life on nights I made poor choices.
Grown man grabbing bull by the horns no more boy shit.
Love spoke to me today,
she asked why we live so far away.
Love spoke to me today,
she asked why after I come I can't stay.
I told her she's a star and I'm a comet,
we talked about Muhammad,
and then she said I need pray more.
I told her we all do.
She said why you never txt back,
or pick up when I call you.
I was silent she continued,
she said after all we been through,
you don't love me you just fuck me.
Nigga I hate you I don't get you.
Tears streaming down her cheeks,
while we were steaming the leaf,
Then I touched her somewhere deep,
told her I was dreaming of peace.
She said you're a liar,
You're with me when you sleep.
I asked her how she knew,
She replied love is true.
I said I gotta go,
she said you always do.
I said I'm sorry,
she said no you're not your Lawrence.
We laughed a little,
she cried some more.
She asked me what I was dying for.
I was silent,
Love spoke to me today,
she told me she's me now.
Love spoke to me today,
she told me she's free now.
She won't answer tomorrow,
she won't answer tomorrow,
she won't answer tomorrow,
she won't answer tomorrow,
she told me that she's me now.
Love spoke to me today,
she told me she's free now.
I can't believe the future I see now.
Lust keeps me looking back.
I'm distracted by the acts of agony and mishap,
That break my stride and mute my song,
I'm right here but still so gone,
and I keep grinding pushing on,
because I'm too strong to move on.
My mother's mad at me my auntie is disappointed,
two women one voice; they're words are so anointed.
They're prayers saved my life on nights I made poor choices.
Grown man grabbing bull by the horns no more boy shit.
Love spoke to me today,
she asked why we live so far away.
Love spoke to me today,
she asked why after I come I can't stay.
I told her she's a star and I'm a comet,
we talked about Muhammad,
and then she said I need pray more.
I told her we all do.
She said why you never txt back,
or pick up when I call you.
I was silent she continued,
she said after all we been through,
you don't love me you just fuck me.
Nigga I hate you I don't get you.
Tears streaming down her cheeks,
while we were steaming the leaf,
Then I touched her somewhere deep,
told her I was dreaming of peace.
She said you're a liar,
You're with me when you sleep.
I asked her how she knew,
She replied love is true.
I said I gotta go,
she said you always do.
I said I'm sorry,
she said no you're not your Lawrence.
We laughed a little,
she cried some more.
She asked me what I was dying for.
I was silent,
Love spoke to me today,
she told me she's me now.
Love spoke to me today,
she told me she's free now.
She won't answer tomorrow,
she won't answer tomorrow,
she won't answer tomorrow,
she won't answer tomorrow,
Monday, June 16, 2014
Nia
Because it will be so much greater later I know that now doesn't matter,
this is the peace of mind you find,
when you can ignore before and focus on after,
this isn't the next chapter;
it's a foot note to make feet move the right way,
an announcement of a coming event,
an invitation to save the day,
half way through the half way point,
two steps beyond the fork in the road,
a battle cry for peace,
a song to save my soul,
I can remember what hurt feels like,
this ain't that,
I paint prayers with my pen,
to better where I'm at,
Sometimes I feel trapped,
Freedom is a struggle,
I can always see the trouble,
blood, sweat, and tears in a puddle,
All I ever do is hustle,
Survive;
Pray for the souls of those who died,
Get lost in my own mind,
Wondering why it wasn't my time,
I saw a flat line in a dark room,
I remember thinking this is too soon,
please Lord not yet,
and he gave me more breaths,
He granted me more days, weeks, and months,
now I can't sleep, all I do is seek, and hunt,
Serve my God,
Try to raise boys to men,
Teach them in all they do,
first acknowledge him,
I give to be forgiven,
I live to a rhythm,
Whatever it takes to try and make a better place to raise kids in...
Friday, February 21, 2014
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Living on the dance floor
Lost in the wilderness,
I'm practicing happy,
I'm counting the steps,
measuring the beat,
memorizing the rhythm,
of my own smile,
blinded by my surroundings,
tirelessly I dance,
retracing movements,
like smiles and laughter,
I work through the routine,
trying to romance the nuance,
of this dance,
sweat pours,
with each step more,
exhaustion is maddening,
I don't stop because I can't,
I don't stop because I can't,
when it gets quiet,
I wipe my brow,
find my mark,
count myself in,
and begin the dance again
I'm practicing happy,
I'm counting the steps,
measuring the beat,
memorizing the rhythm,
of my own smile,
blinded by my surroundings,
tirelessly I dance,
retracing movements,
like smiles and laughter,
I work through the routine,
trying to romance the nuance,
of this dance,
sweat pours,
with each step more,
exhaustion is maddening,
I don't stop because I can't,
I don't stop because I can't,
when it gets quiet,
I wipe my brow,
find my mark,
count myself in,
and begin the dance again
Thursday, February 6, 2014
On your 19th Birthday I wrote...
Happy Birthday Trayvon,
I wonder what the moon said to the rain,
on the night you were slain,
I imagine the bullets were sad leaving the gun,
nothing wants to destroy something beautiful,
nothing right does wrong without regret,
the world is filled with tools for freedom that are used to oppress,
I HAVEN'T GIVEN UP HOPE YET,
No,
I'm a dreamer,
the only way I know to stop the hurt I feel,
knowing your story, is to make stars of boys,
Who bare a resemblance to you,
All-american boys with nappy hair,
Football players, and future rappers,
The kind of kids who wear hoodies and eat skittles,
they hang on my words, look to me for guidance and direction,
My opinion matters to them, they actively listen to me,
So I tell them,
their hoodies make them look suspicious,
To crazed hateful men who would kill them,
because that's what your murder taught me,
Ain't no agenda in that,
that's the profane truth, a truth so loud and so constant,
it drowns out the sounds of progress,
it makes old revolutionaries and so called radicals say; see I told you so,
the fact that you're gone and I have to tell my boys; be careful wearing your hoodie,
please be careful wearing that hoodie,
boy they will shoot you out here!
some crazy man with a gun will run you down,
say you're looking into cars,
because you're dressed like a gang member,
young gang members,
whom many would call thugs,
dress like children because they are,
because the last three generations of men in America,
were much better at raising guns and bottle than sons and daughters,
the last two generations way better at first person shooter video games,
violent rap songs,
fascist faux patriotism,
Vigilante cowboy justice,
and other misogynistic, selfish, narcissistic fantasies,
than existing in the reality that human life is precious,
and children need to be taken care of,
protected, valued and taught to strive for something more,
so they can be something better than the world they were born into,
I indict the United States of America for your murder,
I refuse to accept what that man did, on that night like,
he was performing some type of service,
enforcing the law that you, me and people who look like us,
have no business in his neighborhood,
have no business in his town, no business in his country,
it all runs together, it all sounds familiar,
like Jim Crow and apartheid,
like caste and class structure and the brown paper bag test,
like old cop movies, and fireworks on the fourth of July,
I charge America the beautiful for stealing your 19th birthday from you,
and not even looking guilty because she got away with it,
I think of you on cold nights when my boys wear hoodies,
I hear them laugh as they run and play,
I wonder how your father feels today,
I hold myself responsible to tell all my boys,
black, white, brown, beautiful shades of all three,
to be careful wearing their hoodies,
because if America kills one of them,
that bitch will have to answer to me
I wonder what the moon said to the rain,
on the night you were slain,
I imagine the bullets were sad leaving the gun,
nothing wants to destroy something beautiful,
nothing right does wrong without regret,
the world is filled with tools for freedom that are used to oppress,
I HAVEN'T GIVEN UP HOPE YET,
No,
I'm a dreamer,
the only way I know to stop the hurt I feel,
knowing your story, is to make stars of boys,
Who bare a resemblance to you,
All-american boys with nappy hair,
Football players, and future rappers,
The kind of kids who wear hoodies and eat skittles,
they hang on my words, look to me for guidance and direction,
My opinion matters to them, they actively listen to me,
So I tell them,
their hoodies make them look suspicious,
To crazed hateful men who would kill them,
because that's what your murder taught me,
Ain't no agenda in that,
that's the profane truth, a truth so loud and so constant,
it drowns out the sounds of progress,
it makes old revolutionaries and so called radicals say; see I told you so,
the fact that you're gone and I have to tell my boys; be careful wearing your hoodie,
please be careful wearing that hoodie,
boy they will shoot you out here!
some crazy man with a gun will run you down,
say you're looking into cars,
because you're dressed like a gang member,
young gang members,
whom many would call thugs,
dress like children because they are,
because the last three generations of men in America,
were much better at raising guns and bottle than sons and daughters,
the last two generations way better at first person shooter video games,
violent rap songs,
fascist faux patriotism,
Vigilante cowboy justice,
and other misogynistic, selfish, narcissistic fantasies,
than existing in the reality that human life is precious,
and children need to be taken care of,
protected, valued and taught to strive for something more,
so they can be something better than the world they were born into,
I indict the United States of America for your murder,
I refuse to accept what that man did, on that night like,
he was performing some type of service,
enforcing the law that you, me and people who look like us,
have no business in his neighborhood,
have no business in his town, no business in his country,
it all runs together, it all sounds familiar,
like Jim Crow and apartheid,
like caste and class structure and the brown paper bag test,
like old cop movies, and fireworks on the fourth of July,
I charge America the beautiful for stealing your 19th birthday from you,
and not even looking guilty because she got away with it,
I think of you on cold nights when my boys wear hoodies,
I hear them laugh as they run and play,
I wonder how your father feels today,
I hold myself responsible to tell all my boys,
black, white, brown, beautiful shades of all three,
to be careful wearing their hoodies,
because if America kills one of them,
that bitch will have to answer to me
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