I spent 3 days
five hours and 27 seconds
preparing for my trip
I was so wired
that I almost ended up missing my flight.
And if that was my only plight
the sight of the plane
scared the SHIT out of me.
It reminded me of a sardine can
small, tightly packed
I could hardly relax.
Everyone had to have known,
that it was my first,
My maiden voyage
as I foraged
looking for a bag to gag in
and it quickly sank in
That I was going to DIE…
In a lil plane
to small to be considered a boat
I could feel my throat constricting
and I knew what I was missing,
it was terrifying.
I felt like an explorer
defying the odds
what a turn of events
when we touched down on that runway
my stomach began to runaway
all I wanted to do was runaway,
but I would have to get home somehow.
Still in love with this piece
What can I say about black history month,
nothing much it seems.
tired of being indignant and ignorant
feeding off of misleading propaganda
designed to insight
and provoke “us” to roit.
I think its a fucking waste
looking at a past which is very much like the present,
thinking that the future will be better just because we will it.
I’m just tired of preaching to the choir
black people who have to rub their intelligence
in your face like shit
just to prove something
or to yourself.
I wish that black history month was a celebration
but among these parts
its like a pity party
for self serving
rable rousing loud mouths
who promote mediocrity
by disseminating an ideology that you are special because of your race.
pleading to all the other field slaves.
yet, i’m the bad guy,
because i don’t write,
I don’t need to read filth
to remember my heritage,
freedom won from chains
I don’t need to join a cause to respect my ancestors.
I just need to raise my children
teaching them to love themselves
hoping that their generation won’t be as fucked up as ours.
No more poetic clone wars
Stories of love lost
Dead and forgotten
Undertakers attempting in futility
To revive the dead
An abomination that should’ve never been given thought
Much less life.
No more poetic sandstorms
Of life lived
The only remnants
The dunes of memories
That depresses even the reader.
It’s not enough
Crawling into holes and crevices
Living like a scavenger off the land
The next meal… the only highlight!
No more sad love songs
Gazing at stars
Wishing that time travel was possible
And that you knew the meaning to life.
What you wouldn’t kill to reach nirvana.
Was it real?
This mythical place of peace and contentment
Where nothing matters because your so over the bullshit.
No more poetic thunderstorms, hurricanes,
Natural disasters of any kind
Just a peace that passeth
Silence is all thats there
But its not really silent
Because I can hear the dripping of tears
As they meet flesh
And the gripping of skin thats not too long lost life
I use to say
I havent lost anyone
That’s been close
And its been true
For though we share the blood in our veins
And features so distinct we were separated by years of mistrust and resentment
You being wrong
And me holding grudges that now seem simple
Why didnt I just humble?
But I feel for the silence
Of my mothers tears
All her fears
As she stares at her mothers reflection in her eyes…
Her heart aches
If I could
I would give her a token of life…
Give her a day to make right
If I could I would
Forgive … I would live
A life that was pleasing
Pleading to all
To live simple
To love even the little things
If I knew I would cry,
I wouldve loved her more when she was living…
Im trying to imagine her sleeping,
My heart is aching
Overflowing with guilt
And I have to remember its not about me…
If I could… I would give you tokens
Rest in peace
I should just give up
Give up living
Give up trying to be something I’m not
Fighting not to become the person that I am
And it’s pathetic
After all who said I’d never
They can finally say that I didn’t
Prophetic justice for all the bad shit that I’ve done!
And I’m hurting
Busy hurting me
Thinking I’m hurting you
I’ve been neglecting my blog and I’m sorry..,
pleading for love
from a rock
wishing you could melt his stoney heart
just because you will it
but will it
make the difference
loving someone who will never love you back
and its bullshit
pretending to be happy
in marital bliss
with something that could never feel you too
at some point in time
it gets exhausting
as you begin to change
sitting in silence
refusing to share
what little humanity you have left…
then you’re gone
remnants of your former self dehydrated
until there is only stone left…
depending on whose clock were going by
everything was fine
the spark was there
with hormones and body fluids
and the progression was steadily progressing
to the point where we couldn’t help but touch
but somewhere between the spinal cord and brain
and then it was over,
leaving only numbness
and the whirling of a mechanic motor nearby,
the silence is filled with mute screaming and unshed tears
but this is nothing new
a well practised number
that has final reached its crescendo
but time doesn’t wait for wounds to heal
and sores to scab…
I’m blocked again….
busy writing drafts
drafts that sound the same
like stale music on an ipod
that goes on and on,
which begin to nag on the brain after a while.
i’m caught up
in my feelings and my relationships
trying to deal with my shit
and handle my business
but i think that i’ve bitten off
just a tad bit more than
i could choke on
and i’m choking
becoming necrotic from the inside out
stuck in drafts folders, notes
and gray matter
coiled tightly in neurons
that should know better…
now who’s frustrating who…