When I Dream

When I dream
The Earth shakes
Shivers and quakes because it knows it’s not good enough and my dreams will show my wildest fantasies to me
and entice me with a world that’s better
and they say sleep
is kin to death
and this world can’t lose me
it needs me
it breathes me
because it breed me
I’m its ultimate weapon of mass destruction
Conceived in the corruption of our nation
I spit fire and bleed rhymes through my pen that can make love to your ears and leave them sprung on my B-I-C
And my rhymes are so sick that most don’t know what to call me
Some call me a poetSome call me a lyricist
But most just refer to me
as a MC
And my baby daddy
Most just call him DJ
And together we make music
Giving birth to my first child they call her Hip Hop
And I’ve watched her grow
Blossoming into a beautiful melody
With the ability to change her tone to fit every voice that graces a microphone
But recently it seem that she’s followed her own dancing beats losing sight of her purpose
I created her to give worth to the so called worthless
And she knows thisBut yet she defies everything that connects her to me
She’s become an addict
Addicted to her own rhythm
Injecting into her veins the venom of vulgar names
She’s degraded herself
Having love affairs with money,
cars,
chains
and even video hoes
Spewing the acid of her graffiti on this new generation of clothes
And her children…
barely even know who I am
the origin of who they are
And damn if that doesn’t hurt
Damn if it doesn’t hurt me watching what my grandchildren have become
Cutting each other down and up lifting no one
Brothers and sister are now sworn enemies and rage turf wars with each other over intangible entities that be long to neither
This is not how I envisioned my dynasty
Listening to the sound of it dying slowly at the hands of people that were born to uplift me
my own womb has betrayed me
birthing the very thing that plagues me
what the hell happened to my baby
mommas baby
you abandoned my affection
choosing to damn near murder your own mother
changing the way the world perceives meproducing disrespectful bastard babies
also set out to kill me
but you are afraid to get rid of me completely
without me,
there would be no you
you can’t lose me
you need
you breathe me
cause I breed
you

Assignment

I was given the assignment to pick a person in my family, get 5 pictures of them and write about what was going on in those pictures. I picked my sister and this is what came out. (After each line is a new picture.)

She looks at me
Tears glazing her corneas
She’s tryna be a soldier,
Fighting a war I feel I never should have put her in
Our souls bleeding out the same rhythmetically painful heart beat
She smiles longing and heartache And her eyes are filled with the memories that we will never get a chance to make
Erased every time she blinks
She connects to me more than our other sisters or even or mother
She wants me there with her,
With them
So our little family can be whole again
But my plane...
is leaving
And I have to make it to my gate
Back to my father’s side
Back to Austin where they reside
And I’ll miss her
terribly
knowing the misery that I’m about to leave her in
On the plane
Tears escape my downcast eyelids
As I take one last look down at the city
Knowing that me and my sister will cry
together
Separately
___________________________________
I’m packing,
Collecting all evidence of my existence here
But trying to keep the proof that my sisters and my mother do hold me dear
Despite what my fathers side tells me
I’m moving
Slowly
Subconsciously trying to make the world stop moving with me
Trying to remember the feeling of Christmas
And hold true to my promise for the New Year
I’m not going to cry
I’ll be back some other time
And maybe by then I will have decided to stay
Her letter falls out of my pocket
And though it’s just paper
It seems to plummet
Heavy with pressure of the emotion chasing it
It wasn’t intended for me to read yet
Suppose to be opened safely on the
it won’t make me change my mind about staying
She says she’ll miss me
But she understands why I can’t stay
Says that there are so many things that she wishes she could say but she doesn’t know how to.
She wants me to be happy
and keep writing my poetry
Says that writing connects us and our pens will forever join us together
Says that she knows that I didn’t willingly choose to break my promise
She forgives me
And my eyes glisten with remembrance
Raining down on my sisters heart that I hold in my hands
_________________________________
We are young in this picture
I not older than half a decade
And she not older than a quarter
We’re smiling
Arms around each other in an embrace only shared between us
It is our fortress,
No harm can come to us as long as we are in each other’s arms
I will forever protect her
Carry her in my crescent moon ‘cause she is the only one that can put it on my face
Baby sister this
“I promise”
____________________________________
You haven’t opened your eyes yet
Haven’t quite adjusted to the light
But you’re still beautiful to me
But I still haven’t quite adjusted to the light either
“Mommy, why is she so bright?”
And you cry,
it’s like your face became a candle
and my question was it’s either sparking your future thoughts that I envied you
that I didn’t love you cause you didn’t look like me
Your thoughts that I loved Leslie more cause we could pass for twins
We shared the same complexion
Like she was my true sister and you,
You we just came out wrong,
But youwere wrong…I admired you
it was just from distance…
__________________________
You can draw!
And I still can’t believe the talent that lives in you
Not to mention you write too
I can’t believe you never told me
Now I feel blessed that that you have chosen to bestow me with your glory
Drawing for me
Letting me read your short stories
Wanting my poem to be seen in your
I can’t explain the look on my face
I’m so proud of you
I remember holding you…
But I never got a chance to watch you grow
There are so many things that I will never know about you…
damn how you grew...

Poser Poets

Poser poet propaganda pushes poetic prophecies presumptuously towards death
And you expect me to just let theses niggas rest?
Please,
I’d rather spend my last breath fighting these wanna-be-me poets
pushing wanna-sound-like-me poetry.
Bite me,
and I’ll write back cause my words are like children to me and trust,
you don’t wanna mess wit momma’s babies.
See I’ve been deemed crazy
charged with a list of felonies like murder,
arson,
and rape
I plead guilty
I admit it,
I do murder these mics,
I set fire to stages,
and every time I write I strip mini-me’s of their fake ass tendenciesraping them bluntly with the image of what a real poet looks like
Excuse me if they don’t seem to like the light much,
much like roaches.
Picking up any of my crumbs they can savor
well just for ya’ll I picked up a new flavor
But I’m sorry if it’s slightly poisonous
I can’t stop the venom that flows from me
or the acid rain that likes to pour from me
burning patterns of my name into the brains of any that listen to me
I lash out with ease be careful with what you choose to say to me
Cause if you disrespect me
I’m a need you go ahead and start praying to whoever it is
you decide to believe in
cause you might just see them today
And I know most people like to think that mimicking is a compliment
So Thank You
it’s nice to know that you look up to me but I don’t need any more compliments from you
Flattery will not spare you the life of your pen
it will lead to its execution
so before warned
even if I drink every bit of familiar ink that dwells in your pen
it will not quench my thirst
blood will have to be shed on stage
cause I think I can do me just a little bit better than you can
I stay true to myself
and I never write to fill someone else’s shoes
you need to choose to do you
put your heart in your pen
let it bleed your life into a poem so you can resuscitate your soul on the mic
don’t recite lines that haven’t come from your own mind
redefine the word real
this is more than just an art form
it’s an outlet
a way for you to release your deepest thoughts
don’t step to poetry sounding like an echo of what you think it wants to hear
speak what you need to say
erase the traces of fraudulent fabrication
your paper is ready to show you your reflection
and introduce you
to you
now who
are you

Tears Of A Prophet

I was once told
that I have eyes that look like they’ve seen the birth
of prophecies
the death
of dynasties
the re-incarnation
of majestic memories
and I smiled slightly,
if you only knew half the things me and my eyes have been through,
I’ve seen dreams disintegrate in the hands
of the poet prophetess that stands before
these hands
have crafted intricately iniquitous masterpieces
that have snatched the limelit stars from premature eyes
I’ve witness buds
prematurely reproducing blossoms that wither and die before their time
I have crow’s feet,
caused by the truth clawing to pull the rose colored tint from my souls windows
my irises
are old
and their petals have already begun to fade
losing their clarity
but still witnessing
catastrophes
that make them they not want to see anymore
maybe that’s why I started losing my eyesight at the age of 9
given glasses
to mask this
fact that wisdom is harnessed in the bags beneath my eyes
swollen with knowledge before their time
The dentist even tells me that my wisdom grows in precocious and slightly crooked
and will have to be snatched from me
my third eye wonders casually back to the day before my conception
back to the lives I lived before my mother’s name was Valerie
my soul carries crevices deep enough to hold oceans and galaxies
born a senior citizen trapped in the mind frame of a baby
To young to understand that I was birthed for greatness
Blessed with the curses of seeing thing for what they really are,
the old for who they were
and dreams of what will come.
Maybe that’s why shatter these mic’s seems like de ja vu
I’ve done this before
I’ve painted masterpieces before
Birthed prophets before
Saved lives before
I’ve died before
My face carries time in its shadows
stories of the damned are found in the wrinkles of my brow
the sands of time are pressed in my laugh lines
and the fire that is released from these lips forms glass in the form of spit
my words produce daggers that rip through cochlea
causes ink to shed from eyes
and cuts souls free from their self-captivity
Poetry is written transparently on my corneas
So I see through metaphors
Sing similes sweetly through my breathing
My looks kill
murder anything that might be seen as obscene
or unworthy of my words
my diction can leave you BIC whipped
on pen tips
and my eyes can give you whip lash
from how fast you’ll catch death stares
or loving glances
I’m the reason they give most hurricanes
female names
there is peace hidden in the center of my eyes
but when I cry
the angry tears that fall from my face wash away
ignorant innocence and leave the turmoil of truth in it’s place
whirling around the mind
translating earth quakes down the spine
I’ll leave you shaking
so let the first tear that falls from my eyes
be your flashflood warning ‘cause
you wont be able to stop it
once the flood gates are open
I’ll drown you in truth
my eyes rain down
tears…
of a prophet

Definition

I am Lucifer’s broken halo
Adam’s broken rib
I am the original temptress offering the forbidden fruit of knowledge,
the hue of a violet,
and the thorn of a rose
created to shed blood and protect the virtue of my blossom
I be deemed cocky.
Which is understandable
when confidence is misused by those not suitable to carry its honor.
I am a woman,
born with potential in my womb
pregnant with the anticipation
of the penetration
of the malignant pigment of my heritage.
I be everything you can’t see.
The definition of me
lies deeper than any
epidermic expectations exponentially escaping from your irises.
I was conceived with violent tendencies,
a mean streak.
I walk differently.
Not to straight,
I drift slightly
and I’ve never been a follower,
I’d rather have people look at me and say
follow her,
cause I never walk lines that haven’t been set by my own mind.
I talk differently,
slurred slightly,
with the lightning quick tendencies
I tend to hurt feelings.
My tongue is sharper then the 6-inch stilettos that hoes where on the stole
and can burn you quicker than they can
I said,
je parle différemment,
je parle avec la langue de Haiti ancestors
il coule comme la Rivière d'Artibonite mes ancêtres étaient nés dans
People tend to not understand me,
language flows from me freely and I speak the stories of my ancestry.
I see things differently.
I see beauty in things others would deem revolting
but yet I do not see through tinted rose-colored glasses
my third eye sometimes seems like it can read minds.
Picks up on the aurora of those around me,
I see through people.
Façades never fake me,
Charlatans rarely fool me,
and fraudulent forgeries tend to piss me off.
Strangers try to judge me but find themselves confused
I seem to know everything about them before they ever even utter my name.
My words spread like wild fires through the mind of my peers,
and they often ask what my definition is,
pondering on who I am.
So for all those wondering
I am… me

Prove It

You tell me you love me,
so take a dip into my psyche
float with my memories until you know each one of them intimately
Baby swim with me,
caress my cerebral hemisphere until your finger and hand prints are found in the deepest crevices of my brain,
I don’t wanna just see your name or your face when I close my eyes,
I want you to be imbedded in to my cerebellum
so deeply that my movements start to spell out your name.
Want you to be entrenched in the rivers of my mind
so that our currents can join together and produce a new generation of brainwaves
that would exceed the expectations and the limitations of the word love.
Love, make love to me intellectually,
write poetry to me that make me the envy of Shakespeare’s muse.
Strip me,
leave me bare,
free me of metaphors, similes, and clichés
till nothing is left of the poet within me.
Reduce me to nothing but a naked idea.
Come here,
lay your head on my chest.
Let my heart beat be your lullaby while you sleep
just so you can dream about me.
Let me be the sunrise on the horizon of your irises,
sculpt mosaics in the image of me on the inside of your eyelids.
Tattoo my name on your tongue so you can speak me,
tell the world of my existence in your chest cavity.
Marry me mentally.
Let our love become an entity,
intangible to those not worthy enough to be hold our glory.
Walk with me.
Join me at the hip and we can travel to the end of eternity
then back track and come back again
so we can make sure we left no loose ends behind us.
Take me back to the time when you were conceived
and bury me in your skin
so I can experience everything that has ever happened to you.
I want to know the very definition of you.
I want you to become the soul definition of what makes me happy.
Want you to be able to make me react to you orgasmically,
before you ever touch me.
Want your soul to intertwine with mine intricately,
braid into me until I can feel the skip in your heart beat
every time you see me.
Then I will welcome you between the skies of my Heaven
and hold you there confidently,
cause we will be connected spiritually.
You will be able to please me in ways no one else could
and I would become the only reason you find to breathe.
Let me be your respiratory.
And in the mere absence of me
life would slowly begin to seep from your lungs.
Don’t just tell me I’m the one,
show me that you believe what you speak.
Cause believe that your words are no strangers to these ears.
Over that past couple years
I have heard everything that they have managed to throw at me,
all lacking legitimacy.
So if you tell me you love me,
be prepared when I ask you…
to prove it.