Puff, Paaasssssssssss.........

(Wrote this one on receipt paper at that Hookah bar wit Paris, Krissy and Shavonne....Remember T)

Air blows through my brains
And circulates through my veins,
Up through my spine
And into mother earth’s vines
Until it creates carbon dioxides on my insides.
Then I breath fresh air again…..
It hits harder as I let the ink bleed from the pen,
And Then…….AND THEN!!!!
Not just trying to rhyme the tick-tock with time
I spit anatomic vomit of intellectual rhyme
Eases my mind when time vibes with the 1-2 step
Improvisation of life’s tick tock clock
It goes tick tock,
‘Til it reaches the epitome of the epiphany again I breath…..
Fresh air flows through my lungs and I see you standing at the end of my last breath
And I sing and I sleep and again I Breath.

New World Order

Now I wanna give you a word with my definition
Marijuana – a drug that includes the fumes that exude strongly from flaming hot writers. Dat T.H.C. Translating, Having, Creating.
Our architecture of lines and pages
Have kept humankind high for ages
And it will capture you

The Weed seed was not implanted virtually or
Spiritually……Naw dat shit was planted physically within
The scalp of “cottonpickinry” strands of trees
The result in form of nappy headed hoes
Who wear shoes that make them walk on their tippy toes
Just to be asked to bend over and touch their toes
To be raped, taped, and blatantly called hoes.
I suppose, I suppose maybe you think this is me having a hissy fit
But shit in the end, who really gives a fuck about it
I creep, I sleep, I stand, I expand, I breed power but chose to resume in the outer
It’s the inner realms that gain all the glory without even playing in the game
Yet we maintain and continue to help you sustain.
They remained, We remain, and they will remain
Smoke unfurls in plain sight what the lake breeze does in the shadows
There we are standing, watching the part played while hiding within the windows
Ghosts exist in the real world, and they are not the undead souls of former glory fighters.
No the real ghosts on earth come in the form of writers.

Dreamlover

When I close my eyes I tend to drift away,
When I open my eyes what I want fades away,
So I go through the day thinking about going to sleep,
Then hopefully whatever I see will become reality.
Self consciously I make myself think I'm complete,
Unconsciously I know I'm not where I want to be,
Since I'm writing this poem I guess I'm learning the truth,
I find true blissfulness when I'm thinking of you.
Now I'm finally awake and you're so far out of reach,
That's cause you only can be touched in the heart of my dreams,
I don't like the idea of you being away from me,
So the only thing left for me to do is go back to sleep...
Goodnight.

Past Tense

How do you say goodbye to the past?
It happened then and this is now so why is it present tense?
You happened once upon a time, I’m living happily ever after but I still can’t get past you!
What is this?
Thought I moved to something better
Found something different
And I Still think of your similar
Wish sometimes that I could hold it
It lies in the crevices of my heart but I can’t quite reach it
It is awaken by the sound of your name
Yes, your name makes goose bumps arise and something like butterflies make me fly to memories of you
Wish I could feel you again
See you look at me again
Taste heaven in your lips kiss again
Hear you say you love me again…
But that was then and this is now
Why is it I can’t get passed the past?

Pop goes the.....

I wrote this as a reflection on the disturbingly decadent lifestyles of a few females i've come in contact with... drowning in superficial BS will be the means to their end....


secrets slip past my thirsty ears
could lean and listen but
instead im drowning sunshine in barrels of beer
forever fancy
the world is my disco ball
loving the refractions and how they pulse my pupils
blindness is fun when it seems temporary

new shit new shit

red shit blue shit

love and the other shit that aint.
life is pretty when you see it through cream lace right?
forgetting most veils only come in black
toes painted promiscuous
eyes stabbing whatevers in view
as if they were creating a shish kabob of things to be had
to be had


i once was alright
now im swell
...and swellin

and the weasel foreshadows the sound of my demise

World is a Hustle-Lauryn Hill

kinna almost cried listenin to this

she has some unreleased tracks that have leaked

i think the same producers from her "The Passion" worked on this joint too

backslide

i hated him for you

scraped the insides of his integrity and checked for the truth

void.

probing,

engaging every morsel

where in that space, injections of secrets overdosed

and paralyzed perceptive mediums while distortions advanced

plunging into love

 

wounded and bare

i reflected through your many locks and prayed for his assassination

i hated him for you

and never projected beams of fury that potent before…

distorted sound patterns float atop  beige sheets like dew on shady roads

filling my ears with ringing cries

weeping.

i’m there when he’s not

it still swells though…

cramming anger into the barrel of my finger tips hoping to touch him away…

…the small of my back aches

and the pain shoots to the nape of my neck in seconds

jolting my greatest fears

but you’re still beautiful

even in your weakness