I had a conversation with my baby the other day
I caught a glimpse of her on my way past my mirror
And she asked me,
mommy, why did you get rid of me
I know I was conceived in your misconception of what love was
But how could you just give up on me so easily,
You never even gave me the chance to prove I was worth giving birth to
Didn’t your mother ever teach you patience is a virtue?
And I said baby, your father would’ve never wanted you
He would have tried to beat you out of me
And I rather you die by my hand
Than by the fist of the man your suppose to call daddy
Try to understand me
I could never take care of you
I can’t even take care of myself
I’m only 17
And I couldn’t afford for you to defer my dreams
But mommy you didn’t have to willingly choose to miscarry me
I could have taught you how to take care of me,
how to hold me,
how to love me
and now you’ll never have the luxury of hearing my laughter
my first words
or the sounds of my first steps
do you even have any regrets?
Yes, you were suppose to be my angel,
I was suppose to cradle you in the pieces of my broken halo
You were my redemption
My second chance to prove I was worth giving birth to
You just came too soon for me
You scared me
I swear I felt you move before I ever knew you existed in my womb
I dreamed about you before you were ever conceived
Then why would you defer my dreams to breathe
All I ever wanted was to feel my mother’s touch
All I ever wanted was to feel my daughter’s touch
You don’t know how much I want you to just wake up
You don’t know how much I just wanted you to wake up and realize I was worth it
Baby nobody’s perfect, I make mistakes and I’m sorry that you have to learn that this way, but trust me I loved you
How could you love me, you never gave birth to me, you never cried for me, never got the chance to meet me, don’t lie to me
I’m not lying, and I tried crying but I never thought my tears were suitable enough for you I’m dying for you to forgive me
Well I’m already dead and my heart has turned as cold as my skin, instead of the forgiveness you seek it’s my havoc I reek, you see I’m the period that always comes at the wrong time, I’m the tears you shed in the middle of the night, I’m what cause your spirit and your soul to fight, it’s me
But my baby, why do you insist on torturing me, why can’t you just forgive me, how can I prove to you that I’m sorry, I’m tired of your face taunting me on the surface of the moon, and I swear your tears get heavier every time you let your pain rain down on me, baby you’re drowning me, and I can’t seem to catch my breath
I never caught mine either, but unlike you I will give you a chance to breathe, just as long as you never forget me
Just as long as you forgive me
Deal. But mommy, I just want to know, what would you have named me
And I told her Emonie
Words motivate me to move mountains. Cast light into the shadows that hang darkness over my valley. I construct cathedrals of conscious thought. Move me… Flow through this thicket of thought and caress purpose. Feel me… I am hidden in plain view. Waiting for you to stop trying to use your eyes to catch a glimpse of vision. See me… A rarity like daylight accented by the moon. I have so many stories for you to stroll through…
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Gun Shots
Cause they scores feel like gun shots
5.8, 5.9, SHOT, 6.0, 6.1, SHOT, 6.2, 6.3, SHOT, 6.4, 6. Gun Shot
Raise your score boards
let the corrosive acid that spits from that maker eat at her till her soul bleeds rivers of blue ink
the same shade her pen bleed the day she wrote her first slam piece
but she, doesn't want to slam any more
cause through your felt markers she has felt you mark her down to nothing more but a mere number
she leaves her life on stages
and gives her soul to complete strangers
blessing them with the privilege of thinking they are superior enough to judge her
and you
degrade her
making her feel like her words ain't worth a pot for you to piss in
like her words ain't worth the time it took for you to listen to what the fuck she was saying
like her words ain't worth jack squat
every time she hears your gun shots
6.5, 6.6, SHOT, 6.7, 6.8, SHOT, 6.9, 7.0, SHOT, 7.1, 7. Gun Shot
But she,
I mean I
don't give a fuck about the score no mo
don't give a fuck about the judges no mo
cause you mother fuckers can go suck on the BIC I wrote this poem with
I am the epitome of my own damn epiphany
and I don't need you judging me
so go ahead
give me a low score
and I'll tell you EXACTLY where you can put that damn board
cause you have not swam through the currents I've swam through
haven't even seen some of the things I've had to live through
I have nothing to prove to you
I now know my own self worth and it's way more than any damn 2 figure score you could give me
And I know this poem ain't exactly what you wanna hear but it's exactly what needs to be said
Cause you can believe what I'm spitting has been in every poets head at least once
And I know few poets have said what I've said and lived to slam another day
But I am no longer afraid
So I'm a go ahead and take this hold your tongue condom off cause I don't need it's protection anymore
I'm a get in this shit raw
So go ahead and try to fuck me
but I've already been train raped by your scores
and I refuse to remain your poetry whore
see I don't do this cause it's cute
I do this cause it's my stress relief despite how brief it is
I do it so I can help somebody who thought they where alone
realize they aren't they only one standing in the middle of a war zone.
I do this so I can make that one picked on out cast realize he ain't got to blow up that school,
all he got to do is pick up a pencil.
I do this so that little girl realizes that though somebody has laid their hands on her inappropriately I understand, I know how it feels to have somebody groping me in the middle of the night and though it hurts right now baby girl it'll be alright.
I do this so that one suicidal teen realizes that he ain't got to go that route,
and there's a better way out trust me
look at me and realize that I've been there
our scars
match
perfectly
I do this for everyone that some how reminds me of me
And the only one that can ever really judge me besides He,
is me
so now when your shots ring out freely all they'll sound like to me is
7.2, 7.1,
10
6.0, 6.9,
10
6.8, 6.7,
10
6.6, 6.5,
10
5.8, 5.9, SHOT, 6.0, 6.1, SHOT, 6.2, 6.3, SHOT, 6.4, 6. Gun Shot
Raise your score boards
let the corrosive acid that spits from that maker eat at her till her soul bleeds rivers of blue ink
the same shade her pen bleed the day she wrote her first slam piece
but she, doesn't want to slam any more
cause through your felt markers she has felt you mark her down to nothing more but a mere number
she leaves her life on stages
and gives her soul to complete strangers
blessing them with the privilege of thinking they are superior enough to judge her
and you
degrade her
making her feel like her words ain't worth a pot for you to piss in
like her words ain't worth the time it took for you to listen to what the fuck she was saying
like her words ain't worth jack squat
every time she hears your gun shots
6.5, 6.6, SHOT, 6.7, 6.8, SHOT, 6.9, 7.0, SHOT, 7.1, 7. Gun Shot
But she,
I mean I
don't give a fuck about the score no mo
don't give a fuck about the judges no mo
cause you mother fuckers can go suck on the BIC I wrote this poem with
I am the epitome of my own damn epiphany
and I don't need you judging me
so go ahead
give me a low score
and I'll tell you EXACTLY where you can put that damn board
cause you have not swam through the currents I've swam through
haven't even seen some of the things I've had to live through
I have nothing to prove to you
I now know my own self worth and it's way more than any damn 2 figure score you could give me
And I know this poem ain't exactly what you wanna hear but it's exactly what needs to be said
Cause you can believe what I'm spitting has been in every poets head at least once
And I know few poets have said what I've said and lived to slam another day
But I am no longer afraid
So I'm a go ahead and take this hold your tongue condom off cause I don't need it's protection anymore
I'm a get in this shit raw
So go ahead and try to fuck me
but I've already been train raped by your scores
and I refuse to remain your poetry whore
see I don't do this cause it's cute
I do this cause it's my stress relief despite how brief it is
I do it so I can help somebody who thought they where alone
realize they aren't they only one standing in the middle of a war zone.
I do this so I can make that one picked on out cast realize he ain't got to blow up that school,
all he got to do is pick up a pencil.
I do this so that little girl realizes that though somebody has laid their hands on her inappropriately I understand, I know how it feels to have somebody groping me in the middle of the night and though it hurts right now baby girl it'll be alright.
I do this so that one suicidal teen realizes that he ain't got to go that route,
and there's a better way out trust me
look at me and realize that I've been there
our scars
match
perfectly
I do this for everyone that some how reminds me of me
And the only one that can ever really judge me besides He,
is me
so now when your shots ring out freely all they'll sound like to me is
7.2, 7.1,
10
6.0, 6.9,
10
6.8, 6.7,
10
6.6, 6.5,
10
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
She Never Deserved You
She never deserved you.
Truth be told the bitch never deserved to even look at you,
she was never women enough for you
hadn't yet learned how to grow the fuck up.
Still playing little girl elementary school mind games
thinking that you were the same as all these
other lame brain ass little boys.
But you're not,
you never were.
All you were tryna do was treat her like the Queen that she could never be
cause she doesn't know how.
She could never define the word
cause she was use to all these
playa type niggas that was only interested in doing her wrong
so of course when you came along she didn't know what to do with you.
She was confused
and she only knew how to play you the way she'd been played
so at night,
I prayed for you.
In the hopes that He would help you see clearly.
But I guess it's true that love is blind
cause despite the signs,
you stayed with her…
But I was always right here.
Waiting for you to look back and see me standing here
I was the one that held you when she couldn't find the time
And when she lied to you and hurt you
you were on my phone line
It was me,
it was always me crying when you couldn't
Letting me eyes leak so yours wouldn't have to
Apologizing for her wrong
Apologizing for shit that I knew I would never do to you
I was the one,
It was me,
Shay.
It was always me opening my arms to you.
Cutting opening my heart for you so you could sleep inside it,
lay your head on it's soft bruises.
And if you asked me to
I would bleed for you .
Bleeding the ink from my pens until the wells of my mind ran dry for you
If you needed me,
I was there for you…
And you did the same for me,
when I need you
you came to me
comforted me.
But it was only…
momentary
Cause you,
would always go back to her
Even after her 1st offense
Her 2nd offense
Her 3rd
4th through 12th offense
You loved her
And I don't even know her
but I hate her.
It's like you were addicted to her punishment,
her lies entangled you until you became intangible to me.
She kept you from me when you were mere inches away from me
she kept you from me even when you were dying to
feel me
hug me,
touch me,
kiss me…
But now it's seems like my prayers were answered
cause she's out of the picture.
She's fixed her lips to spew lies to you for the last time
But I…
am still on the side lines…
and it's killing me watching you hurt
killing me knowing that I can't comfort you.
I miss you,
wish that you were here
wish that you would let me treat you the way you need to be
wish that you would just let me in.
I'm dying to love you,
waiting for you to realize that I'm still here
And I'm never
going
no where.
Truth be told the bitch never deserved to even look at you,
she was never women enough for you
hadn't yet learned how to grow the fuck up.
Still playing little girl elementary school mind games
thinking that you were the same as all these
other lame brain ass little boys.
But you're not,
you never were.
All you were tryna do was treat her like the Queen that she could never be
cause she doesn't know how.
She could never define the word
cause she was use to all these
playa type niggas that was only interested in doing her wrong
so of course when you came along she didn't know what to do with you.
She was confused
and she only knew how to play you the way she'd been played
so at night,
I prayed for you.
In the hopes that He would help you see clearly.
But I guess it's true that love is blind
cause despite the signs,
you stayed with her…
But I was always right here.
Waiting for you to look back and see me standing here
I was the one that held you when she couldn't find the time
And when she lied to you and hurt you
you were on my phone line
It was me,
it was always me crying when you couldn't
Letting me eyes leak so yours wouldn't have to
Apologizing for her wrong
Apologizing for shit that I knew I would never do to you
I was the one,
It was me,
Shay.
It was always me opening my arms to you.
Cutting opening my heart for you so you could sleep inside it,
lay your head on it's soft bruises.
And if you asked me to
I would bleed for you .
Bleeding the ink from my pens until the wells of my mind ran dry for you
If you needed me,
I was there for you…
And you did the same for me,
when I need you
you came to me
comforted me.
But it was only…
momentary
Cause you,
would always go back to her
Even after her 1st offense
Her 2nd offense
Her 3rd
4th through 12th offense
You loved her
And I don't even know her
but I hate her.
It's like you were addicted to her punishment,
her lies entangled you until you became intangible to me.
She kept you from me when you were mere inches away from me
she kept you from me even when you were dying to
feel me
hug me,
touch me,
kiss me…
But now it's seems like my prayers were answered
cause she's out of the picture.
She's fixed her lips to spew lies to you for the last time
But I…
am still on the side lines…
and it's killing me watching you hurt
killing me knowing that I can't comfort you.
I miss you,
wish that you were here
wish that you would let me treat you the way you need to be
wish that you would just let me in.
I'm dying to love you,
waiting for you to realize that I'm still here
And I'm never
going
no where.
China Doll
She collects them,
Has them scattered across her room as if they were a porcelain comforter
They comfort her
Their painted on faces never seem to judge her
So she confides secrets to them even her children will never know cause she will never remember
Her china dolls help her go on trips to far away lands that she can't even afford to dream about
And she loves them for that
Each one introduces her to a new culture as she imagines what its life would be like
She wishes she was more like them
Young like them
Beautiful like them
But most of all
Immortal like them
You see she's afraid of dying
But she's more like them than she thinks she is
She's fragile
As if she was made from the same valuable glass they were
She sees herself as broken
And her reflection only makes glass melt and leak from the windows to her soul like rain
She wishes she was young again
But this old girls been around the block
Been dropped too many times and the glue that is her sanctity is no longer strong enough to hold her together
You see she's tried talking to Him
but all she can manage to say is "Help Me"
cause she doesn't remember how to pray
maybe that's why it seems like He's always too busy to answer her
why it seems like He's always punishing her
Taking from her things that she always held so dear
She doesn't even recognize herself when she looks in the mirror
The first thing she lost was the sight in her left eye
As if it became a bleached stained glass window
Clouded with her faded memories that would seem to just get cloudier over time
Cause the next thing He took from her was her mind
Shooting holes into her most precious memories
Till it was hard for her to recognize her daughter's smile
Her son's eyes
Her granddaughter's complexion
All the things that she gave both generations
But she remembers her dolls
She holds on to them because they are the only thing that keeps her from connect to this world that she's slowly slipping away from
She doesn't want to die
She's afraid of even going to sleep
Haunted by her dreams of being trapped in the very same bed she lays her head in
But she amazes me
She stronger than she gives herself credit for
Cause she's held on longer than what was expected of her
Gripping her life so tight between her hands that her fingers go as numb as she feels when she looks into the stranger they call her husband's eyes
I wish I could give her back everything she's lost
Taking on to me everything that plagues her
And maybe I can be as blessed as to have as much strength as her
As much courage as her
Cause though she is afraid
She's never given in and she's never given up
She's accepted fate but she has never let it defeat hershe's a soldier
Fighting a war with no weapon other than her will to live
An Earth bound Angel
And I see beauty in her even when she fails to see it in herself
Cause she makes me want to hold on when I have nothing at all
She is and forever will be
my China Doll
Has them scattered across her room as if they were a porcelain comforter
They comfort her
Their painted on faces never seem to judge her
So she confides secrets to them even her children will never know cause she will never remember
Her china dolls help her go on trips to far away lands that she can't even afford to dream about
And she loves them for that
Each one introduces her to a new culture as she imagines what its life would be like
She wishes she was more like them
Young like them
Beautiful like them
But most of all
Immortal like them
You see she's afraid of dying
But she's more like them than she thinks she is
She's fragile
As if she was made from the same valuable glass they were
She sees herself as broken
And her reflection only makes glass melt and leak from the windows to her soul like rain
She wishes she was young again
But this old girls been around the block
Been dropped too many times and the glue that is her sanctity is no longer strong enough to hold her together
You see she's tried talking to Him
but all she can manage to say is "Help Me"
cause she doesn't remember how to pray
maybe that's why it seems like He's always too busy to answer her
why it seems like He's always punishing her
Taking from her things that she always held so dear
She doesn't even recognize herself when she looks in the mirror
The first thing she lost was the sight in her left eye
As if it became a bleached stained glass window
Clouded with her faded memories that would seem to just get cloudier over time
Cause the next thing He took from her was her mind
Shooting holes into her most precious memories
Till it was hard for her to recognize her daughter's smile
Her son's eyes
Her granddaughter's complexion
All the things that she gave both generations
But she remembers her dolls
She holds on to them because they are the only thing that keeps her from connect to this world that she's slowly slipping away from
She doesn't want to die
She's afraid of even going to sleep
Haunted by her dreams of being trapped in the very same bed she lays her head in
But she amazes me
She stronger than she gives herself credit for
Cause she's held on longer than what was expected of her
Gripping her life so tight between her hands that her fingers go as numb as she feels when she looks into the stranger they call her husband's eyes
I wish I could give her back everything she's lost
Taking on to me everything that plagues her
And maybe I can be as blessed as to have as much strength as her
As much courage as her
Cause though she is afraid
She's never given in and she's never given up
She's accepted fate but she has never let it defeat hershe's a soldier
Fighting a war with no weapon other than her will to live
An Earth bound Angel
And I see beauty in her even when she fails to see it in herself
Cause she makes me want to hold on when I have nothing at all
She is and forever will be
my China Doll
A Poet's Last Stand
I am a poet.
But sometimes I wish…
That I wasn't
My words can't keep me warm at night and despite how many I write my poems will never be able to turn into the currency I need to survive
It's like you fall further in dept the longer you stay alive
So what's the point of living
of creating poetry when there are no job openings for word tacticians
No one really cares to hear the song of a poet beat through the rhythm of their words,
I need money,
Not poetry or reflection
Cause poetry don't pay bills
And reflection is only good when used to remember which creditor you need to strike deals with just to keep food on the table
I change lives on this stage by speaking to souls solemnly seeking to be saved
But yet it's your psychiatrist you pay to sit in silence
Ain't that ironic
You rather feed the silence and allow it burn, and starve the truth,
The solution,
I mean the poet, cause face it
Though I may be speaking to you in a manner that touches your soul
You would much rather spend your money on Lil' Wayne's Cd than one featuring me
This ritual is old, cause if I had dollar for every time some one comes up and tells me
"I love your work"
but yet my chap book remains unsold then I would have enough to feed every starving third world country including the one that exists in my home
And I know my dreams don't pay the light bills but
If I had a giant for every broke poet in the world then i would have an army big enough to put an end to activity in all war zones, return soldiers to their homes, and give the billions of dollars wasted on so called peace wars to every poet that has been denied a job because they were not able to hold their tongue, every poet who doesn't get the fame of people who get paid for making songs about girls with "donk"
every poet who's had his light's turned off
Cause poetry just ain't currency
But it should be
Cause I've heard poems that can make you see God quicker than any green piece of paper with His name on it
I rather pay a poet for doing something that frees his soul then pay to have something made to contain him
And they say a mind is a horrible thing to waste
But you tell me you how a poet can get his word out if bars are covering his face
And the people telling him to speak are the same ones that put his noose in place
Cause sometimes even poets won't support poets
Unless you giving it to them for free
And it's funny to me
Though we are all connected by this strange thing called poetry
Secretly, we want each other to fail,
just so we can succeed in getting our own hands green
we are all paper pushers
we all wish we were able to push paper into our pockets by the means of pushing words on to paper
See, I leave my life on stages
And I realize now that I get paid every time my feet grace a stage
My job is to breath realization into color blind minds
Through the colorful pictures I paint on to empty lines
And your job is to pay me with your attention
Your love and your affection
Cause if I can get just one genuine Thank You
Letting me know that I touched at least one of you
Then you've paid me enough
But sometimes I wish…
That I wasn't
My words can't keep me warm at night and despite how many I write my poems will never be able to turn into the currency I need to survive
It's like you fall further in dept the longer you stay alive
So what's the point of living
of creating poetry when there are no job openings for word tacticians
No one really cares to hear the song of a poet beat through the rhythm of their words,
I need money,
Not poetry or reflection
Cause poetry don't pay bills
And reflection is only good when used to remember which creditor you need to strike deals with just to keep food on the table
I change lives on this stage by speaking to souls solemnly seeking to be saved
But yet it's your psychiatrist you pay to sit in silence
Ain't that ironic
You rather feed the silence and allow it burn, and starve the truth,
The solution,
I mean the poet, cause face it
Though I may be speaking to you in a manner that touches your soul
You would much rather spend your money on Lil' Wayne's Cd than one featuring me
This ritual is old, cause if I had dollar for every time some one comes up and tells me
"I love your work"
but yet my chap book remains unsold then I would have enough to feed every starving third world country including the one that exists in my home
And I know my dreams don't pay the light bills but
If I had a giant for every broke poet in the world then i would have an army big enough to put an end to activity in all war zones, return soldiers to their homes, and give the billions of dollars wasted on so called peace wars to every poet that has been denied a job because they were not able to hold their tongue, every poet who doesn't get the fame of people who get paid for making songs about girls with "donk"
every poet who's had his light's turned off
Cause poetry just ain't currency
But it should be
Cause I've heard poems that can make you see God quicker than any green piece of paper with His name on it
I rather pay a poet for doing something that frees his soul then pay to have something made to contain him
And they say a mind is a horrible thing to waste
But you tell me you how a poet can get his word out if bars are covering his face
And the people telling him to speak are the same ones that put his noose in place
Cause sometimes even poets won't support poets
Unless you giving it to them for free
And it's funny to me
Though we are all connected by this strange thing called poetry
Secretly, we want each other to fail,
just so we can succeed in getting our own hands green
we are all paper pushers
we all wish we were able to push paper into our pockets by the means of pushing words on to paper
See, I leave my life on stages
And I realize now that I get paid every time my feet grace a stage
My job is to breath realization into color blind minds
Through the colorful pictures I paint on to empty lines
And your job is to pay me with your attention
Your love and your affection
Cause if I can get just one genuine Thank You
Letting me know that I touched at least one of you
Then you've paid me enough
Nigga Please
I hear you…
and your voice ricochets of the walls of my mind
"Ay yo shawty, you need to be with a nigga like me"
and it's funny
cause I hear this line all time
constantly referring to yourself as a nigga so
Nigga please
not in good game are you attempting to step to me
cause a nigga like you could never in God's grace attempt to even be on my level
Cause niggas idolize gangsters greatly avoiding the truth,
escaping reality,
worshiping colors more than the women that deserves it most,
your mother
The women that gave birth to you and willing gave up her figure…
just so you can call yourself a…
NIGGA?
Nigga please!
And dropping the e-r don't make it no better
you see we've used this terminology
so loosely that we even have Mexicans calling each other nigga too,
Oh naw boo boo,
maybe I missed the memo that said changing nigger
to nigga
Changes it's definition and is no longer an insult
but in reality
we've been brainwashed into thinking that calling each other ignorant,
Is cool …
but if you notice it's only minorities that have been played the fool
cause we have it stuck in our minds that to fit in
you have to invest in
every pair of shoes that come out every other weekend,
Cause you can't be caught dead wearing the same pair of shoes in a week,
and you know every true nigga needs a main freak,
but always keep backup,
and backups for your backups,
Cause you can only be measured by how much of a nigga you are
by what grows between your legs,
and by how many females you can make spread
leaving them tainted,
trashed
and tarnished
spiritually,
mentally,
and sometimes even physically
Cause every nigga knows how to beat it up,
but see that's where ya'll are fucked up
Cause trust karma's a bitch,
and a bigger one than any woman you've ever called one,
cause just like you doggin' her,
believe somebody's gonna dog your daughter,
or cousin,
or your niece,
or maybe even your baby sista,
MAN UP NIGGA,
And look at the legacy you are leaving,
have you realized why niggas love saggin'?
Maybe it's because if you reverse the letters the 2 words are 1 in the same,
and this,
this is the image you are burning into baby boy brains,
Literally…
cause they watch you lit
and puff…
puff…
blow…
Exhaling your so called problems they're too young to know,
or you say they're too young to understand
But they will when they finally grow up and be a man
but how can they if you never have
and your just stuck being a nigga,
Nigga…
and your voice ricochets of the walls of my mind
"Ay yo shawty, you need to be with a nigga like me"
and it's funny
cause I hear this line all time
constantly referring to yourself as a nigga so
Nigga please
not in good game are you attempting to step to me
cause a nigga like you could never in God's grace attempt to even be on my level
Cause niggas idolize gangsters greatly avoiding the truth,
escaping reality,
worshiping colors more than the women that deserves it most,
your mother
The women that gave birth to you and willing gave up her figure…
just so you can call yourself a…
NIGGA?
Nigga please!
And dropping the e-r don't make it no better
you see we've used this terminology
so loosely that we even have Mexicans calling each other nigga too,
Oh naw boo boo,
maybe I missed the memo that said changing nigger
to nigga
Changes it's definition and is no longer an insult
but in reality
we've been brainwashed into thinking that calling each other ignorant,
Is cool …
but if you notice it's only minorities that have been played the fool
cause we have it stuck in our minds that to fit in
you have to invest in
every pair of shoes that come out every other weekend,
Cause you can't be caught dead wearing the same pair of shoes in a week,
and you know every true nigga needs a main freak,
but always keep backup,
and backups for your backups,
Cause you can only be measured by how much of a nigga you are
by what grows between your legs,
and by how many females you can make spread
leaving them tainted,
trashed
and tarnished
spiritually,
mentally,
and sometimes even physically
Cause every nigga knows how to beat it up,
but see that's where ya'll are fucked up
Cause trust karma's a bitch,
and a bigger one than any woman you've ever called one,
cause just like you doggin' her,
believe somebody's gonna dog your daughter,
or cousin,
or your niece,
or maybe even your baby sista,
MAN UP NIGGA,
And look at the legacy you are leaving,
have you realized why niggas love saggin'?
Maybe it's because if you reverse the letters the 2 words are 1 in the same,
and this,
this is the image you are burning into baby boy brains,
Literally…
cause they watch you lit
and puff…
puff…
blow…
Exhaling your so called problems they're too young to know,
or you say they're too young to understand
But they will when they finally grow up and be a man
but how can they if you never have
and your just stuck being a nigga,
Nigga…
If I Could
She asks me…
why am I not pretty…
like you…
And the question lingers as if her smile is fading…
Londa if I could
I would let the answers to you questions roll of my tongue
just so your days would be so bright the sun would be envious of you,
I would return the rhythm that was stolen from you
so the song that beats inside that broken music box you hold in your chest could finish itself, lil' sister
if I could…
I'd help,
but your questions complexity confuses me
cause baby sister
I don't know why these boys think you're not pretty,
I don't know why you are not able to catch the attention of these boys
who seem to always catch yours,
I don't know why your attempts go unnoticed
and never lures their eyes to you
but I do know you're beautiful
your talents are remarkable,
your heart is ineffaceable,
and your strength is untouchable,
baby sister
like me,
your perfectly…
imperfect
and I would willingly give up my soul
and put my life in the Lord's hands for you cause I know that you're worth it,
you are the last angel to ever fall from Heavens skies
and I know their missing you,
your deserve the world and so much more
and I wish I could give it to you
but I can't,
I can't make these boys see beauty,
I can't make them realize what's in front of them
when they are constantly condemning themselves to chase after the "perfect woman",
constantly condemning themselves to find out there is no such woman,
constantly condemning themselves to realize they let the good ones go,
but until they wake up
they will never know how extraordinary you are,
cause you see they chase these girls who they think is everything they want,
beautiful mind,
soul
and heart,
someone who is stunning inside…
and out,
but the ones they are running to
are not suitable cause they
are not you,
you are so much better than they could ever be,
they just don't know it yet,
they're blind,
in every sense of the word
cause they are not able to see you as you really are,
but time,
time will be their enemy cause eventually
you will develop wings and finally be able to soar,
And my sister looks at me,
and a new question crosses her face
but before she can ask
I answer,
baby sister,
I've been in your place,
pain is no stranger to me
and my eyes have rained rivers that have flooded my face too many time to count
My heart has been shattered like my bathroom mirror I always use to want to break,
I've hated my self,
or at least what I thought the mirror reflected,
and believe I have been rejected more than my fair share of times,
I have laid in my bed at night
with only my pillow to hold
and cried
myself
to sleep,
baby sister,
I've shared your pain,
I've questioned my beauty,
I have wished that I…
was not me,
wished that I could reform my body,
and wished that God…
never made me,
It seemed like I was always too dark,
to short,
to flat,
too skinny,
or not skinny enough,
they hated me,
NO
they hated my beauty,
they tried to get me to believe I was ugly so I would not be a threat to them,
they wanted me to see everything they said I lacked,
till I realized my beauty
and started
fighting
back,
they could not break me,
I…
like you,
am a Queen,
a Nubian goddess finally spreading my wings,
so baby sister
break free,
and
come
fly
away
with
me
why am I not pretty…
like you…
And the question lingers as if her smile is fading…
Londa if I could
I would let the answers to you questions roll of my tongue
just so your days would be so bright the sun would be envious of you,
I would return the rhythm that was stolen from you
so the song that beats inside that broken music box you hold in your chest could finish itself, lil' sister
if I could…
I'd help,
but your questions complexity confuses me
cause baby sister
I don't know why these boys think you're not pretty,
I don't know why you are not able to catch the attention of these boys
who seem to always catch yours,
I don't know why your attempts go unnoticed
and never lures their eyes to you
but I do know you're beautiful
your talents are remarkable,
your heart is ineffaceable,
and your strength is untouchable,
baby sister
like me,
your perfectly…
imperfect
and I would willingly give up my soul
and put my life in the Lord's hands for you cause I know that you're worth it,
you are the last angel to ever fall from Heavens skies
and I know their missing you,
your deserve the world and so much more
and I wish I could give it to you
but I can't,
I can't make these boys see beauty,
I can't make them realize what's in front of them
when they are constantly condemning themselves to chase after the "perfect woman",
constantly condemning themselves to find out there is no such woman,
constantly condemning themselves to realize they let the good ones go,
but until they wake up
they will never know how extraordinary you are,
cause you see they chase these girls who they think is everything they want,
beautiful mind,
soul
and heart,
someone who is stunning inside…
and out,
but the ones they are running to
are not suitable cause they
are not you,
you are so much better than they could ever be,
they just don't know it yet,
they're blind,
in every sense of the word
cause they are not able to see you as you really are,
but time,
time will be their enemy cause eventually
you will develop wings and finally be able to soar,
And my sister looks at me,
and a new question crosses her face
but before she can ask
I answer,
baby sister,
I've been in your place,
pain is no stranger to me
and my eyes have rained rivers that have flooded my face too many time to count
My heart has been shattered like my bathroom mirror I always use to want to break,
I've hated my self,
or at least what I thought the mirror reflected,
and believe I have been rejected more than my fair share of times,
I have laid in my bed at night
with only my pillow to hold
and cried
myself
to sleep,
baby sister,
I've shared your pain,
I've questioned my beauty,
I have wished that I…
was not me,
wished that I could reform my body,
and wished that God…
never made me,
It seemed like I was always too dark,
to short,
to flat,
too skinny,
or not skinny enough,
they hated me,
NO
they hated my beauty,
they tried to get me to believe I was ugly so I would not be a threat to them,
they wanted me to see everything they said I lacked,
till I realized my beauty
and started
fighting
back,
they could not break me,
I…
like you,
am a Queen,
a Nubian goddess finally spreading my wings,
so baby sister
break free,
and
come
fly
away
with
me
I Wish...
I watch him,
wishing I could be the pen he holds in his hand
giving birth to his word flow,
filling his paper with curves that resemble my own
so with every poem he spits he tastes me on his lips
I wish I could be his favorite song so that every time he would hear me he'd tell his homies
Damn!
She's my jam,
she's the groove,
she's that hit,
she's my SHIT!
He'd turn me on,
he'd turn me up,
and leave me on repeat while he sleeps,
just so he could wake up to a new part of me daily.
I'd be stuck in his head constantly
and he would always be humming my tune
I wish I could be his studio…
and his microphone.
Amplifying the tone of his voice so much so…
that it boost his ego
every time he heard how good his voice sounded ricocheting of my walls
He'd stay inside me diligently;
working long hours that would make him so tired he'd fall asleep in me.
and together…
we would make music.
I wish I could be his favorite shirt
the one that he never gets tired of wearing
'cause I just fit right
and I feel nice.
I wish I could be his notebook
And he could fill me with his ideas
along with his dreams
and his fears
Confiding secrets to me his tongue could never tell
He would find safety in me
And sometimes…
I wish I could make him blind.
Just so I could be his Braille
and he could read me continuously
Running his fingers across me,
he'd be able to read my history.
Losing himself inside stories of my past
and dying to be included in my sequel
I wish I was his everything,
'cause he's already mine.
But he doesn't understand that we were conceived from seeds in the same fruit
But our roots grew,
separating me from him
I broke his rib
So I could put myself directly over his heart and protect it
So I…
could be his Queen.
But he doesn't notice me…
he thinks of me as nothing more than a baby.
Too young to know how to take care of him
too young to know how to understand him…
but he doesn't know that we could complete each other
Me completing the song to his heart,
and he completing the poem I forgot to start
He could be my ending,
if only we had a beginning…
wishing I could be the pen he holds in his hand
giving birth to his word flow,
filling his paper with curves that resemble my own
so with every poem he spits he tastes me on his lips
I wish I could be his favorite song so that every time he would hear me he'd tell his homies
Damn!
She's my jam,
she's the groove,
she's that hit,
she's my SHIT!
He'd turn me on,
he'd turn me up,
and leave me on repeat while he sleeps,
just so he could wake up to a new part of me daily.
I'd be stuck in his head constantly
and he would always be humming my tune
I wish I could be his studio…
and his microphone.
Amplifying the tone of his voice so much so…
that it boost his ego
every time he heard how good his voice sounded ricocheting of my walls
He'd stay inside me diligently;
working long hours that would make him so tired he'd fall asleep in me.
and together…
we would make music.
I wish I could be his favorite shirt
the one that he never gets tired of wearing
'cause I just fit right
and I feel nice.
I wish I could be his notebook
And he could fill me with his ideas
along with his dreams
and his fears
Confiding secrets to me his tongue could never tell
He would find safety in me
And sometimes…
I wish I could make him blind.
Just so I could be his Braille
and he could read me continuously
Running his fingers across me,
he'd be able to read my history.
Losing himself inside stories of my past
and dying to be included in my sequel
I wish I was his everything,
'cause he's already mine.
But he doesn't understand that we were conceived from seeds in the same fruit
But our roots grew,
separating me from him
I broke his rib
So I could put myself directly over his heart and protect it
So I…
could be his Queen.
But he doesn't notice me…
he thinks of me as nothing more than a baby.
Too young to know how to take care of him
too young to know how to understand him…
but he doesn't know that we could complete each other
Me completing the song to his heart,
and he completing the poem I forgot to start
He could be my ending,
if only we had a beginning…
We Kept Waiting
We kept waiting for the beat to drop….
off us
cause what was spewing form this music box sounded off
shaking "booty meat"
to same beat
used a thousand times
stuck in this repeated melody of bitch,
hoe,
girl slide down that pole
cause apparently
that's the only thing this God given temple is good for
Apparently
our curves are more important than depths of the oceans of our souls,
our hearts
and our minds
the names that have been branded on us
are heavy enough with hate to break spines
but as long as I can be referred to as a "top dolla hoe"
then everything is fine
and no I wont mind
if this beast music corrupts my 14 year old little sister in to thinking that her breast should be bigger,
her ass should be thicker,
and she should work on her flexibility
to please the visual needs of these men who's eyes still find the need to breast feed
and hug momma's thighs,
And no I wont mind
if this music brainwashes young men into thinking that every time they see me
they should be viewing my anatomy
rather than looking at me
and automatically classify me
as "a very freaky girl"
pardon my French…
but Baiser Cela
I will not allow this beast music to
feed my insecurities
so I have low self esteem
that makes it easier for these so called artists to use me,
abuse me spiritually
and treat me worse than the dirt they walk on,
so excuse me if I seem a little withdrawn
from this crap
that has innovatively been labeled "rap"
cause last time I checked
I could have sworn it stood for "rhythm and poetry"
not "rape and pornography"
and though my name is not Maya,
I am a woman…
phenomenally,
so name you spit at me
can hurt me
or change my views of me
cause some one wise once told me
that it ain't what you called
but what you answer to…
so I will answer to respect
and nothing less
you will step to me correctly
or you just might get cut with the razor God blessed me with for a tongue,
Step Back
cause I am not the one you can come to
with these supposed "game"
you picked up from these so called artist
that pollute our air waves with the sounds
of our dying dynasty…
off us
cause what was spewing form this music box sounded off
shaking "booty meat"
to same beat
used a thousand times
stuck in this repeated melody of bitch,
hoe,
girl slide down that pole
cause apparently
that's the only thing this God given temple is good for
Apparently
our curves are more important than depths of the oceans of our souls,
our hearts
and our minds
the names that have been branded on us
are heavy enough with hate to break spines
but as long as I can be referred to as a "top dolla hoe"
then everything is fine
and no I wont mind
if this beast music corrupts my 14 year old little sister in to thinking that her breast should be bigger,
her ass should be thicker,
and she should work on her flexibility
to please the visual needs of these men who's eyes still find the need to breast feed
and hug momma's thighs,
And no I wont mind
if this music brainwashes young men into thinking that every time they see me
they should be viewing my anatomy
rather than looking at me
and automatically classify me
as "a very freaky girl"
pardon my French…
but Baiser Cela
I will not allow this beast music to
feed my insecurities
so I have low self esteem
that makes it easier for these so called artists to use me,
abuse me spiritually
and treat me worse than the dirt they walk on,
so excuse me if I seem a little withdrawn
from this crap
that has innovatively been labeled "rap"
cause last time I checked
I could have sworn it stood for "rhythm and poetry"
not "rape and pornography"
and though my name is not Maya,
I am a woman…
phenomenally,
so name you spit at me
can hurt me
or change my views of me
cause some one wise once told me
that it ain't what you called
but what you answer to…
so I will answer to respect
and nothing less
you will step to me correctly
or you just might get cut with the razor God blessed me with for a tongue,
Step Back
cause I am not the one you can come to
with these supposed "game"
you picked up from these so called artist
that pollute our air waves with the sounds
of our dying dynasty…
Letter To You
Letter to you,
you who created this hate that grows inside me daily
you who ripped away my innocence and left me with the fear of asking someone to save me
you who left me so messed up I couldn't even help myself
you who melted my memories into the tears that tread my face
filling my heart with hate for you,
you who left me in this darkness
blanked in the reflections of my sins
trapped in the stories of my nightmares without sight of an end
lovelessly caressing me with your lies of loving me
pleasing yourself with the indecency of almost destroying my dignity
but you couldn't break me
you could abuse me mentally but you could never scar my spirit
so I consider your mental bruises as nothing more than beauty marks
that trace my mind with our history
entwining with each other poetically teaching me how
to forgive you,
you who left me this woman trapped in a girls mind frame
tired or a world you made so mundane
trapped in a body you made an alien to me
with my soul beating at my chest
needing to burst free
so I write…
to you
and my words fill out my paper
with the curves you always said you wished belonged to me
and each letter
each sentence
cascades freely from my pen tip to make you see
as I see
feel
as I feel
every time I look in the mirror
and see the surreal world you created in my eyes
yes
you scarred me deeply
but you could never cut deep enough to scar my spirit
you broke my angel wings
but you could never break me
I am still able to soar over the lakes of my melted memories
cause you were never worthy enough to break me
you who created this hate that grows inside me daily
you who ripped away my innocence and left me with the fear of asking someone to save me
you who left me so messed up I couldn't even help myself
you who melted my memories into the tears that tread my face
filling my heart with hate for you,
you who left me in this darkness
blanked in the reflections of my sins
trapped in the stories of my nightmares without sight of an end
lovelessly caressing me with your lies of loving me
pleasing yourself with the indecency of almost destroying my dignity
but you couldn't break me
you could abuse me mentally but you could never scar my spirit
so I consider your mental bruises as nothing more than beauty marks
that trace my mind with our history
entwining with each other poetically teaching me how
to forgive you,
you who left me this woman trapped in a girls mind frame
tired or a world you made so mundane
trapped in a body you made an alien to me
with my soul beating at my chest
needing to burst free
so I write…
to you
and my words fill out my paper
with the curves you always said you wished belonged to me
and each letter
each sentence
cascades freely from my pen tip to make you see
as I see
feel
as I feel
every time I look in the mirror
and see the surreal world you created in my eyes
yes
you scarred me deeply
but you could never cut deep enough to scar my spirit
you broke my angel wings
but you could never break me
I am still able to soar over the lakes of my melted memories
cause you were never worthy enough to break me
I'm Often Asked
I'm often asked why I back away from the mic on the last line of my poem,
and I usually say…
it's just simple because I fear if I step too close they'll charge me for a new mic cause I shatter them,
or I'll say
it's because the rhymes that cascade from me cause lyrical disasters and massacres cause it seems like the world's been waiting for me so long they'll get to hear me…
or die trying
and I know my answers sound cocky so don't take this the wrong way
but I believe I'm the one they sent to set the sun on these so called poets and start a new day,
a new era
of spoken word artist
and define poet in a new way
so listen
cause I'm about to rain down truth on you today
but are you ready?
cause once you take this blue pill there is no way for you to climb out my rabbit hole,
so sit back,
relax,
kick up yo feet and let my story unfold,
cause as I stand on this stage you see me
but you don't really see me
cause I don't know you and
you don't know me
so let me be the first to introduce myself to you,
I am from the womb of a dope feign that that got her life together and has been 13 years clean,
and I thank her
cause weather she's knows this or not I see her in me,
but sometimes this,
well this confuses me
cause I don't know weather or not this will drive me to make the same mistakes as she
or correct them
but she means the world to me
and I'm proud of her
cause she raised 5 of her 6 children with the exception of me who she couragesly gave to my father…
and his mother…
who claims to love me but how can she if she hates where I come from
and my daddy…
well he's a different poem
See my momma,
she made me stronger,
she helped shape me into this woman that stands before you today,
she gave me this swagger,
this rhythm that flows from me when I talk,
and this beat that these hips make when I walk,
she made me beautiful
cause it is in her shadow that I grow
and I know she's wondering how she helped me if she has never really been around me
but I see her constantly,
in my sisters,
in my brother,
and in me…
so to answer the question why I back away from the mic on the last line of my poem truthfully it's just simple because I step back …
to let her shine through.
and I usually say…
it's just simple because I fear if I step too close they'll charge me for a new mic cause I shatter them,
or I'll say
it's because the rhymes that cascade from me cause lyrical disasters and massacres cause it seems like the world's been waiting for me so long they'll get to hear me…
or die trying
and I know my answers sound cocky so don't take this the wrong way
but I believe I'm the one they sent to set the sun on these so called poets and start a new day,
a new era
of spoken word artist
and define poet in a new way
so listen
cause I'm about to rain down truth on you today
but are you ready?
cause once you take this blue pill there is no way for you to climb out my rabbit hole,
so sit back,
relax,
kick up yo feet and let my story unfold,
cause as I stand on this stage you see me
but you don't really see me
cause I don't know you and
you don't know me
so let me be the first to introduce myself to you,
I am from the womb of a dope feign that that got her life together and has been 13 years clean,
and I thank her
cause weather she's knows this or not I see her in me,
but sometimes this,
well this confuses me
cause I don't know weather or not this will drive me to make the same mistakes as she
or correct them
but she means the world to me
and I'm proud of her
cause she raised 5 of her 6 children with the exception of me who she couragesly gave to my father…
and his mother…
who claims to love me but how can she if she hates where I come from
and my daddy…
well he's a different poem
See my momma,
she made me stronger,
she helped shape me into this woman that stands before you today,
she gave me this swagger,
this rhythm that flows from me when I talk,
and this beat that these hips make when I walk,
she made me beautiful
cause it is in her shadow that I grow
and I know she's wondering how she helped me if she has never really been around me
but I see her constantly,
in my sisters,
in my brother,
and in me…
so to answer the question why I back away from the mic on the last line of my poem truthfully it's just simple because I step back …
to let her shine through.
Love Poem
I am in love with you…
So much so that when we're apart the beat to my heart stops pumping out its rhythm 'cause it's grown so accustom to your voice.
Your smile replaces my sun every time you tell me I'm the one you've been waiting for
and the more your name rolls off my tongue
the more I realize just how good it tastes,
just how benevolent your kisses are to me.
And if the eyes are really the windows to the soul then yours is filled with your dreams of loving me
I see my life in your smile
And every time you touch me it's like I just learned how to breathe….
Mozart has nothing on the symphonies that exist in your laughter
your voice was crafted to soothe me.
Cradle me like that hook in your smile was made for my worries to drift away in.
You comfort me.
Like the only reason God breathed life into you…
is so you can exhale blessings onto me.
And let me take this time to say that I love your mother
She's a queen cause she raised you to be the man that you are
And I love your father, though I've never met him but without him your mother could have never birthed something so beautiful.
And you tell me that you love the color of my skin, it reminds you of Hershey kiss that I give you, you love to taste my chocolate, and I love to taste yours too, that's why when you kiss me I tend to bite your bottom lip
See, I don't think you really understand me,
Every time you run your hands over my hips it's like you're telling me that they where made to carry your kids
Your touches translate whispers that send shivers down my spine
And make my skin cry in places that are not appropriate for me to tell you in this poem
By the way, my beautician is mad at you cause you keep making me sweat out my perm
Baby you got me writing to you in a foreign manner
Cause I'm really not the love poem type
But you,
You make me want to write like metaphors are going out of style
And I need a poem for every pearl in your smile
You make me want to run the ink out of every pen that I own just so I can begin to try and explain just what your tone does to me
Baby, I don't even really know what to say right now,
And that's a first
you got me twisted
'cause you can ask anyone that know me, shit I'm never speechless
Every time I see you I see some new part of you that I fall in love with
I'm on my hundred and sixty fifth one and Baby I'm still counting
So much so that when we're apart the beat to my heart stops pumping out its rhythm 'cause it's grown so accustom to your voice.
Your smile replaces my sun every time you tell me I'm the one you've been waiting for
and the more your name rolls off my tongue
the more I realize just how good it tastes,
just how benevolent your kisses are to me.
And if the eyes are really the windows to the soul then yours is filled with your dreams of loving me
I see my life in your smile
And every time you touch me it's like I just learned how to breathe….
Mozart has nothing on the symphonies that exist in your laughter
your voice was crafted to soothe me.
Cradle me like that hook in your smile was made for my worries to drift away in.
You comfort me.
Like the only reason God breathed life into you…
is so you can exhale blessings onto me.
And let me take this time to say that I love your mother
She's a queen cause she raised you to be the man that you are
And I love your father, though I've never met him but without him your mother could have never birthed something so beautiful.
And you tell me that you love the color of my skin, it reminds you of Hershey kiss that I give you, you love to taste my chocolate, and I love to taste yours too, that's why when you kiss me I tend to bite your bottom lip
See, I don't think you really understand me,
Every time you run your hands over my hips it's like you're telling me that they where made to carry your kids
Your touches translate whispers that send shivers down my spine
And make my skin cry in places that are not appropriate for me to tell you in this poem
By the way, my beautician is mad at you cause you keep making me sweat out my perm
Baby you got me writing to you in a foreign manner
Cause I'm really not the love poem type
But you,
You make me want to write like metaphors are going out of style
And I need a poem for every pearl in your smile
You make me want to run the ink out of every pen that I own just so I can begin to try and explain just what your tone does to me
Baby, I don't even really know what to say right now,
And that's a first
you got me twisted
'cause you can ask anyone that know me, shit I'm never speechless
Every time I see you I see some new part of you that I fall in love with
I'm on my hundred and sixty fifth one and Baby I'm still counting
If I Could Speak To The World
If I could speak to the world…
I'd tell them to wake up
I'd tell these young girls to stop depending on this make-up thinking it will make up for the thing these boys say they are missing
Are you listening
Cause the world is def to the screams of infants starving
Craving the warmth from a mother never found
It's like they're screaming silence
Holding conversation with absolutely no sound
Eating violence
for breakfast
Robbed
of their metamorphosis into adulthood
I'd scream for them if I could
But I can't
I can't find their families that are missing
Are you listening
Can you hear the burning heartbeat of a thug
This thug who's blood has turned into liquid ice because his life has been
Sacrifice,
after sacrifice
This "True Hero Under God" who's chance to live up to that name has been stolen by these new aged gangs like Trae Mob
Thug,
father,
brother,
son,
stop,
Stop bleeding this block cause these concrete streets hold more ounces of blood than the whole human population
Thug,
my eyes can't shed any more fears for you and my soul can't bleed anymore tears for you
You have to grow up
Cause no matter how many times you call her that
your girlfriend can never be your ma
Your mamma
It's not her job to take care of you
It's not her job to raise you to be the man you say you already are but you are so far from being
Cause the world is stopping you from seeing
From growing
Baby boy…
Are you listening…
Cause I'm about to cause the last revolution
And the government won't have any solution to me
I'll hit harder than the aids epidemic cause see
I'm about to free the world from this self-induced slavery
This is your rude awakening to my world
This is your christening
But I have to know…
Are you listening…
Did you hear hip-hop's dying breath
Were you there or even aware when they put hip-hop to rest
So now we're stuck in this "crank dat" generation
But please come to the realization that if hip-hop is dead
Then it is re-incarnated in me
Consider poets it's revival
Cause it's depending on us for it's survival
It's depending on us to make you see
Clearly
that it still..
has…
a heartbeat
It still has a pulse pumping in it's veins
and this beat hungry beast can not be tamed
it's taking no prisoners as it's words spill from me
so it your feelings get hurt easily…
then I suggest you leave…
cause this fire flowing from me will give you burns in the 3rd degree
please just listen to me
cause if I could speak to the world…
naw see,
the world ain't ready for me.
I'd tell them to wake up
I'd tell these young girls to stop depending on this make-up thinking it will make up for the thing these boys say they are missing
Are you listening
Cause the world is def to the screams of infants starving
Craving the warmth from a mother never found
It's like they're screaming silence
Holding conversation with absolutely no sound
Eating violence
for breakfast
Robbed
of their metamorphosis into adulthood
I'd scream for them if I could
But I can't
I can't find their families that are missing
Are you listening
Can you hear the burning heartbeat of a thug
This thug who's blood has turned into liquid ice because his life has been
Sacrifice,
after sacrifice
This "True Hero Under God" who's chance to live up to that name has been stolen by these new aged gangs like Trae Mob
Thug,
father,
brother,
son,
stop,
Stop bleeding this block cause these concrete streets hold more ounces of blood than the whole human population
Thug,
my eyes can't shed any more fears for you and my soul can't bleed anymore tears for you
You have to grow up
Cause no matter how many times you call her that
your girlfriend can never be your ma
Your mamma
It's not her job to take care of you
It's not her job to raise you to be the man you say you already are but you are so far from being
Cause the world is stopping you from seeing
From growing
Baby boy…
Are you listening…
Cause I'm about to cause the last revolution
And the government won't have any solution to me
I'll hit harder than the aids epidemic cause see
I'm about to free the world from this self-induced slavery
This is your rude awakening to my world
This is your christening
But I have to know…
Are you listening…
Did you hear hip-hop's dying breath
Were you there or even aware when they put hip-hop to rest
So now we're stuck in this "crank dat" generation
But please come to the realization that if hip-hop is dead
Then it is re-incarnated in me
Consider poets it's revival
Cause it's depending on us for it's survival
It's depending on us to make you see
Clearly
that it still..
has…
a heartbeat
It still has a pulse pumping in it's veins
and this beat hungry beast can not be tamed
it's taking no prisoners as it's words spill from me
so it your feelings get hurt easily…
then I suggest you leave…
cause this fire flowing from me will give you burns in the 3rd degree
please just listen to me
cause if I could speak to the world…
naw see,
the world ain't ready for me.
I Am A Phenomenon
I am a phenomenon,
fire flows freely every time I part my lips,
it's translated through my very fingertips,
they blasted holes in the night to try and get it to bleed sunshine
But what they got was me,
And now the sky is darker then they even thought it could be,
I am Heaven and Hell's bastard child born from the womb of demons on the wings of angels,
A well kept secret, locked away
but ever since the day they set me free the 2 worlds have been on bending knee,
cause heaven refuses me
Hell's afraid I'll be the new owner
so I'm forced to flood the world with my furry that rains from the corners of my eyes till every poem I write turns into the tears that fall from the skies
so baby get it straight,
my name's not Shay...
It's S-H-A-N-I-T-R-I-A
So brace yourself,
cause it will be a cold day in Hell before you ever get a chance to receive another blessing like the one I'm about to exhale onto you,
but all I can do is breathe truth,
it's up to you to inhale the words I speak on the subjects taboo,
and I know that might scare you,
but trust and believe the world would be a better place if they would just shut up and listen to
we…me,
cause our voices have been silence for far to long,
let the words that I speak fill
your soul,
your heart,
so it can learn to beat to a different theme song,
GET UP
DO YOUR PART,
let my voice be a siren,
let it cause a chain reaction,
I want every one screaming in unison,
NO
you won't sentence me…we ,
my son
my daughter,
my brother
my sister,
my mother
my father,
not another soldier to the Iraqi death penalty,
If your jail cells are too full
might I suggest you look into setting some of those encaged angels free,
cause trust me
not everyone locked in Guantanamo is guilty,
they say the truth hurts
but not as much as the lies society has spread,
spit from the government's tongues unfurled,
I beg you,
throw up all the lie that you have been fed,
wake up from the nightmare that is our world,
let the government know,
that we are sick and tired of their pimping,
we will no longer be their hoe.
We will no longer strike down the innocent and watch them bleed oil,
Watch them water soil with the red water that flows from their veins
Watch their bones turn into dust
I refuse to pledge my allegiance to any flag that Bush owns,
My loyalty does not lie with this society that's screams about injustice but is in itself unjust
In this land were the garbage man gets paid more than the teachers
And the next pedophile could be you oh so loving preacher
They want our voices silenced, poets get no recognition
We, me, us word tacticians get nothing in return for spilling our blood on paper
Bleeding our lives from our souls on stages
we're just said to be going through rebellion phases
But despite judgmental stares I, me, we remain a phenomenon
Cause fire flows freely every time we part our lips,
It's translated through our very fingertips
they blasted holes in the night to try and get it to bleed sunshine
But what they got was we,
And now the sky is darker then they even thought it could be.
fire flows freely every time I part my lips,
it's translated through my very fingertips,
they blasted holes in the night to try and get it to bleed sunshine
But what they got was me,
And now the sky is darker then they even thought it could be,
I am Heaven and Hell's bastard child born from the womb of demons on the wings of angels,
A well kept secret, locked away
but ever since the day they set me free the 2 worlds have been on bending knee,
cause heaven refuses me
Hell's afraid I'll be the new owner
so I'm forced to flood the world with my furry that rains from the corners of my eyes till every poem I write turns into the tears that fall from the skies
so baby get it straight,
my name's not Shay...
It's S-H-A-N-I-T-R-I-A
So brace yourself,
cause it will be a cold day in Hell before you ever get a chance to receive another blessing like the one I'm about to exhale onto you,
but all I can do is breathe truth,
it's up to you to inhale the words I speak on the subjects taboo,
and I know that might scare you,
but trust and believe the world would be a better place if they would just shut up and listen to
we…me,
cause our voices have been silence for far to long,
let the words that I speak fill
your soul,
your heart,
so it can learn to beat to a different theme song,
GET UP
DO YOUR PART,
let my voice be a siren,
let it cause a chain reaction,
I want every one screaming in unison,
NO
you won't sentence me…we ,
my son
my daughter,
my brother
my sister,
my mother
my father,
not another soldier to the Iraqi death penalty,
If your jail cells are too full
might I suggest you look into setting some of those encaged angels free,
cause trust me
not everyone locked in Guantanamo is guilty,
they say the truth hurts
but not as much as the lies society has spread,
spit from the government's tongues unfurled,
I beg you,
throw up all the lie that you have been fed,
wake up from the nightmare that is our world,
let the government know,
that we are sick and tired of their pimping,
we will no longer be their hoe.
We will no longer strike down the innocent and watch them bleed oil,
Watch them water soil with the red water that flows from their veins
Watch their bones turn into dust
I refuse to pledge my allegiance to any flag that Bush owns,
My loyalty does not lie with this society that's screams about injustice but is in itself unjust
In this land were the garbage man gets paid more than the teachers
And the next pedophile could be you oh so loving preacher
They want our voices silenced, poets get no recognition
We, me, us word tacticians get nothing in return for spilling our blood on paper
Bleeding our lives from our souls on stages
we're just said to be going through rebellion phases
But despite judgmental stares I, me, we remain a phenomenon
Cause fire flows freely every time we part our lips,
It's translated through our very fingertips
they blasted holes in the night to try and get it to bleed sunshine
But what they got was we,
And now the sky is darker then they even thought it could be.
I Wonder What Language Angels Speak
I wonder what language angels speak….
It must be similar to the babble of infants cause those are the only angels I've ever seen
see, I fiend for the feel of the rain,
just so I can drown myself in the Lord's pain and with every drop I could wash away my impurities with the tears of angels and maybe my broken wings would heal…
But I'm forced back into the real world and my dreams shatter like fragile china and lay on the floor and I leave them there,
Cause like a child-
my innocence slowly turns to ignorance cause I do not know how to fix my mistakes and the shame is more then I can take so I run
and I try my best to fly but I stay grounded cause you can't soar when your wings are deflicted,
and unfortunately for me,
5'3 and dark skin is not how angels are depicted
And unlike the rest of the angels who's wings were removed and sent to do God's dirty work
my wings were never reattached,
and the only thing I was given was 2 Band-Aids to cover the scars on my back
I bear wounds created by the razor sharp scriptures spit at me from the serpent tongues of pastors,
I bleed the stories of the damned and all of God's bastards,
see
they remind me of me,
and it's for them I cry,
but my tears turn into nothing more than another crack in my mirror cause like my mirror I'm broken,
and no matter how hard I try,
I can't
be
perfect
But then again,
I don't want to be,
and you're not completely understanding what I'm about to say to you is an inevitability,
cause I'm complicated,
I always do but I don't,
I want to drop to my knees and ask God to just forgive me but I won't cause I don't consider myself worthy,
and I don't want Him to control me,
and I don't know how to be holy,
but my ignorance is bliss,
and all I can do is sit in church and believe what the stranger I'm told to call pastor tells me to believe about the father of a child a virgin managed to conceive?
…. but "God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten son", but last time I checked, Jesus was the one nailed to that cross dying, and I know it took everything in him to not start crying, and the Lord did nothing,
and you want me to call him Father? but who's to say he won't do the same thing to me, but I will tell him I'm sorry,
sorry that I couldn't live up to be the angel he wanted me to be,
sorry that I'm not perfect and I don't always understand what the pastor is trying to tell me,
sorry I didn't learn how to talk to you and pray correctly
So,
Dear Lord,
please consider this my formal apology,
I stand on this stage bearing my soul and giving you my heart in this testimony,
And showing everyone what a black angel can look like,
and despite my questions, I know it was you who blessed me with this ability to let the truth roll of my tongue in this hypnotic beat and be able to relay my message to the people that fill these seats, and maybe…
I could help somebody like me whos skin holds invisible scars that only they can see that entwine to make an intricate road map that leads to self-destruction,
self-corruption,
some one whos veins pump out self-hate so much so that it constricts the heart and makes it forget it knows how to sing,
but a wise man once said….
the best angels,
… are the ones with broken wings.
It must be similar to the babble of infants cause those are the only angels I've ever seen
see, I fiend for the feel of the rain,
just so I can drown myself in the Lord's pain and with every drop I could wash away my impurities with the tears of angels and maybe my broken wings would heal…
But I'm forced back into the real world and my dreams shatter like fragile china and lay on the floor and I leave them there,
Cause like a child-
my innocence slowly turns to ignorance cause I do not know how to fix my mistakes and the shame is more then I can take so I run
and I try my best to fly but I stay grounded cause you can't soar when your wings are deflicted,
and unfortunately for me,
5'3 and dark skin is not how angels are depicted
And unlike the rest of the angels who's wings were removed and sent to do God's dirty work
my wings were never reattached,
and the only thing I was given was 2 Band-Aids to cover the scars on my back
I bear wounds created by the razor sharp scriptures spit at me from the serpent tongues of pastors,
I bleed the stories of the damned and all of God's bastards,
see
they remind me of me,
and it's for them I cry,
but my tears turn into nothing more than another crack in my mirror cause like my mirror I'm broken,
and no matter how hard I try,
I can't
be
perfect
But then again,
I don't want to be,
and you're not completely understanding what I'm about to say to you is an inevitability,
cause I'm complicated,
I always do but I don't,
I want to drop to my knees and ask God to just forgive me but I won't cause I don't consider myself worthy,
and I don't want Him to control me,
and I don't know how to be holy,
but my ignorance is bliss,
and all I can do is sit in church and believe what the stranger I'm told to call pastor tells me to believe about the father of a child a virgin managed to conceive?
…. but "God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten son", but last time I checked, Jesus was the one nailed to that cross dying, and I know it took everything in him to not start crying, and the Lord did nothing,
and you want me to call him Father? but who's to say he won't do the same thing to me, but I will tell him I'm sorry,
sorry that I couldn't live up to be the angel he wanted me to be,
sorry that I'm not perfect and I don't always understand what the pastor is trying to tell me,
sorry I didn't learn how to talk to you and pray correctly
So,
Dear Lord,
please consider this my formal apology,
I stand on this stage bearing my soul and giving you my heart in this testimony,
And showing everyone what a black angel can look like,
and despite my questions, I know it was you who blessed me with this ability to let the truth roll of my tongue in this hypnotic beat and be able to relay my message to the people that fill these seats, and maybe…
I could help somebody like me whos skin holds invisible scars that only they can see that entwine to make an intricate road map that leads to self-destruction,
self-corruption,
some one whos veins pump out self-hate so much so that it constricts the heart and makes it forget it knows how to sing,
but a wise man once said….
the best angels,
… are the ones with broken wings.
This Is Nothing New
I sit with my red permanent marker in hand and cross out the faces of my dead peers in my yearbook,...
Most were buried with that same expression on their face,
Yeah, that gansta-fied look,
This is nothing new,
Every year,
New book,
New faces to slash through
So I bleed the pages of my yearbook and leave it bloody with the exception of the crips that I cross out in blue,
See even dead,
They won't wear red
With the main crime that they are guilty of is wanting a family, they are sentenced to the death penalty, cause for their new "family" they go to war with each other, no not because of the color of their skin
They consider themselves better than Bush; a war over skin color is beneath them
They go to war with each because of the color of the clothes they're in and our government marks them down as nothing more than a simple casualty, these new age souljahs that are doing nothing more than what they're breed to be
And this, well this is nothing new, but I did write this poem for you, for everyone of you that have been touched by the lies society spread, for everyone of you that can be represented by someone in my yearbook I have marked dead, and not just the ones that lay under 6ft of dirt, but every one of you that people have some how managed to invert, everyone of you that just didn't seem to make it and found yourself incarcerated, every high school drop out that hides behind that purple haze, and whose schooling consists of only 75 spread out days,
Cause see…
You are dead…
At least from my point of view, and no matter how many poems I write,
I can't change the things you do…
So I sit with my red permanent marker in hand and cross out the faces of my dead peers in my yearbook,
But this is nothing new,
Every year,
New book,
New faces to slash through
So I bleed the pages of my yearbook and leave it bloody with the exception of me, that's why every year engraved on my yearbook is
"R.I.P."
Most were buried with that same expression on their face,
Yeah, that gansta-fied look,
This is nothing new,
Every year,
New book,
New faces to slash through
So I bleed the pages of my yearbook and leave it bloody with the exception of the crips that I cross out in blue,
See even dead,
They won't wear red
With the main crime that they are guilty of is wanting a family, they are sentenced to the death penalty, cause for their new "family" they go to war with each other, no not because of the color of their skin
They consider themselves better than Bush; a war over skin color is beneath them
They go to war with each because of the color of the clothes they're in and our government marks them down as nothing more than a simple casualty, these new age souljahs that are doing nothing more than what they're breed to be
And this, well this is nothing new, but I did write this poem for you, for everyone of you that have been touched by the lies society spread, for everyone of you that can be represented by someone in my yearbook I have marked dead, and not just the ones that lay under 6ft of dirt, but every one of you that people have some how managed to invert, everyone of you that just didn't seem to make it and found yourself incarcerated, every high school drop out that hides behind that purple haze, and whose schooling consists of only 75 spread out days,
Cause see…
You are dead…
At least from my point of view, and no matter how many poems I write,
I can't change the things you do…
So I sit with my red permanent marker in hand and cross out the faces of my dead peers in my yearbook,
But this is nothing new,
Every year,
New book,
New faces to slash through
So I bleed the pages of my yearbook and leave it bloody with the exception of me, that's why every year engraved on my yearbook is
"R.I.P."
Letter To Dad
Shhh… can you hear it…
Can you hear me….
Daddy, can you even see me,'cause right now, I feel the biggest void there could ever be,
and I know you've always provided the material things I need,
but, Daddy, have you forgotten that I am my father's seed?
My hunger is more than material, Daddy.
Emotionally feed me, 'cause now I'm starving and it seems like death is a luxury.
It seems like everything around me remains frozen in time,
'cause it seems like the closer that I get to you,
the more I realize that your attention isn't really mine
I slowly feel it pulling,
you slipping,
away from me Daddy,
you got your eyes wide shut,
so of course you can't see
You left me,
even after I tried my best to make you proud
and every night I prayed I vowed
that if He would just help you love me,
I would be the best me I could be
every birthday, all I really wanted was your time,
for you to show me that at least for that day,
you were mine,
but all I ever got was just another toy.
I wonder….
would love me more if I was born a boy
Maybe if I was your son I would be closer to you,
but right now,
I don't even know you,
Dad, where are you?
Cause I still carry your last name like a badge of honor that I have to own up to
So I will carefully follow the blueprints for my life that you drew,
hoping you notice me,
eventually…
cause right now it seems like your attention
has been on suspension
since the day I learned how to talk…
or maybe it was the day I learned how to walk that you abandoned me.
Just like every other dead beat father.
FATHERS!
Why walk if you don't want to be followed,
you're the reason so many kids hearts are hollowed,
cause poppa's a rolling stone,
just another dog tryna find a new place to bury his bone,
Why even bother calling yourself a man?
But what's the use of trying to make you understand,
you never were the brightest,
and people don't ask me about the absence in my eyes because they always knew it was you.
Daddy, Daddy,
you bastard,
I'm through...
I'm through crying for you
I'm through tryna fix what's wrong with me,
daddy i'm not perfect and you gotta understand that I can never be,
but if you would just look,
look at me and see i'm perfectly...
impefect
embrace me daddy cause I know that I'm worth it
and I'll tell you a secret
something I bet you never even realized
you listening?
Daddy I have your eyes
And they've rained rivers that I wish I could pour down on you
just so you could finally get a chance to feel me
And I go through this shit daily
All the while waiting for you to save me,
and realize that I'm still waiting to be…
daddy's baby.
Can you hear me….
Daddy, can you even see me,'cause right now, I feel the biggest void there could ever be,
and I know you've always provided the material things I need,
but, Daddy, have you forgotten that I am my father's seed?
My hunger is more than material, Daddy.
Emotionally feed me, 'cause now I'm starving and it seems like death is a luxury.
It seems like everything around me remains frozen in time,
'cause it seems like the closer that I get to you,
the more I realize that your attention isn't really mine
I slowly feel it pulling,
you slipping,
away from me Daddy,
you got your eyes wide shut,
so of course you can't see
You left me,
even after I tried my best to make you proud
and every night I prayed I vowed
that if He would just help you love me,
I would be the best me I could be
every birthday, all I really wanted was your time,
for you to show me that at least for that day,
you were mine,
but all I ever got was just another toy.
I wonder….
would love me more if I was born a boy
Maybe if I was your son I would be closer to you,
but right now,
I don't even know you,
Dad, where are you?
Cause I still carry your last name like a badge of honor that I have to own up to
So I will carefully follow the blueprints for my life that you drew,
hoping you notice me,
eventually…
cause right now it seems like your attention
has been on suspension
since the day I learned how to talk…
or maybe it was the day I learned how to walk that you abandoned me.
Just like every other dead beat father.
FATHERS!
Why walk if you don't want to be followed,
you're the reason so many kids hearts are hollowed,
cause poppa's a rolling stone,
just another dog tryna find a new place to bury his bone,
Why even bother calling yourself a man?
But what's the use of trying to make you understand,
you never were the brightest,
and people don't ask me about the absence in my eyes because they always knew it was you.
Daddy, Daddy,
you bastard,
I'm through...
I'm through crying for you
I'm through tryna fix what's wrong with me,
daddy i'm not perfect and you gotta understand that I can never be,
but if you would just look,
look at me and see i'm perfectly...
impefect
embrace me daddy cause I know that I'm worth it
and I'll tell you a secret
something I bet you never even realized
you listening?
Daddy I have your eyes
And they've rained rivers that I wish I could pour down on you
just so you could finally get a chance to feel me
And I go through this shit daily
All the while waiting for you to save me,
and realize that I'm still waiting to be…
daddy's baby.
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