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Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Forgotten Relics

 Every soldier on the battlefield. 
Their fate is sealed.
No matter how many times the good God appealed.
Their souls are lost to the dark deeds they commit. 
And let me ask you. 
Do they lose their humanity?
Where we've been driven to insanity. 
And all were left with is vanity.
When our souls are forgotten relics. 
And were left an empty shelf of our former beings. 
When the mirror is a stranger.
And our souls have been seized from us. 
Just because. 
A few old men gave the orders. 
To march onto conquest to set new borders.  
The Lord leaves us at the liar's gate. 
And another thousand fires await. 
For a thousand years to come.  

The Poet Remembers

The poet's tune sings so sorrowfully.
Sad as the gray skies of the positively over populated polluted metropolis of Los Angeles.
Sad as the fallen soldiers of Normandy. 
Sad as the sound of the slaughtered in the emerald fields of Ireland.
Sad as the sound of the slaughtered in the deserts of Gaza. 
Sad as the sound of the Christians crucified for the preaching the Word of God.
Sad as the sound of the slaughtered in the jungles of Nam.
Sad as the silenced stepped on by the tyrannical titans of history.
Remembering days past so many millenniums ago. 
But for all time and every time. 
The poet remembers.  

Hollywood Wanna Bees

From New York to LA I ran
I call this home my land
In Hollywood worth  a million grand
I can be your yes man
I can be your yes man
Consider me your biggest fan
I’m here for the money
Call me yo honey
Call me yo play boy bunny
Imma here to be what you want me to be
Don’t shun me
I can let you run me
I could be your yes man
I could be your yes man

Your Lips, Its Bliss

The taste of your lips.
Its bliss.

From here, where do we go?
With you, my emotions overflow. 

You make my heart glow.
And your the only soul I'll ever know.

Stars align.
Under a love so divine.  

I Gots Me the Flu

Today the tune of the talented teen weeps with illness.
In the days of bed ridden despair, wailing aches wake less sleep.
Fingers flutter to pen and paper to give to the histories a tale of coughing and kleenex.
Homework rides upon his scholastic stallion not today.
Though slumberous nature of mind takes body and soul to the darkness where eyes are closed and body is stilled.
For a brief moment of serenity no fahrenheit of the forehead can disturb what sense of solemn state I have put my body to. 
Now slumber in the golden word of perfection. 
Tomorrow I will arise to face the the world once more. 
When strength returns to my humble bones. 
But on this day, rest of reinvigoration is the only language I speak.  

The Defintion of Rhyming Poetry

Poetry that rhymes relays a message through the music of the spoken word. Their power is in their ability to get us caught up in the music so that we will let down our defenses and consider the message that the poem has to offer. Sometimes poets use rhyme as a tool to show the humor in the message they are trying to convey. Traditional poems are written in rhyme to help to add a musical element to a reading. A rhyming poem brings out the joy that can be had in appreciating the music in words.

Monday, June 3, 2013

Rapping for the Rehabilitated

Got swag I'm so god damn fly. 
I'm just a straight gangsta kinda guy.
I’mma young slick Eminem.
All my haters I be killin’em.
I rhyme to the new age flow.
Time for the white rock blow.
As I be gettin.
Crazy blazin.
This wonderland so amazin.
My mind be phasin.
A new hazin.
Just lookin for that new honey glazin.
A new wave sensation.
 Passin the time that’s my only explanation.
Baggage carried the same load. 
 To many walkin the same road. 
Too many dawning the same mask.
Cold coffin pretty fast.
Step my life in the system.
Thousand times I coulda kissed’em.
Said the angel of death.
Smoked meth.
Got a blunt on my breath.
How I got here it’s a mystery.
My own personal history.
Life’s just a sich and a struggle.
But I pick myself up from the rock and the rubble.
So what’s my next move?
How do my hips groove?
Since 7 I knew my Daddy was a bandit.
Mama couldn’t stand it.
Always givin her a mood.
 Maybe that’s where I got my attitude.
Broken childhood of the past.
I wish the roles could be recast.
Now rehabilitation is the move I’ll make last. 

Legacy of our Disillusioned Foundation

 I've lived a long life and I promise you that there is no
beauty greater than the one I see before me.

And now I find myself in a new understanding of
why ever poets sing stories of love's legacy.

Through many transgressions I’m forever
forgotten in the tethered yarns that make up our disillusion.

Looking back now, what became of our strong walls
 that like a gust of wind blew down our foundation?

Why are the heartbroken are left without answers
 sullenly despaired, lost in the forest of weeping angels?

Through the lies of the lover’s lips a blanket of
 shadows falls over our thought to be soul mates.

Fallen winters find me in the cold hard night, lonely
because the constellations weren't meant to align.

Sands of our hourglass meant to cross but only now
do I realize that a life time was too much to ask for.  

Sunday, June 2, 2013

In the Arms of Another

Hearts cease to flutter in the cold night.
But I wish to see the day that shines so bright.

For a thousand life times I will have a thousand memories that I can treasure. 
Because I will always remember when you were my own personal pleasure.

And you really hurt me because I never thought you'd go as fast as you ran.
Were you really that much happier, in the arms of another man.

Do you know that you left me sullen in the deepest despair?
Because now I know, you never even gave a whimsical care. 

Saturday, June 1, 2013

From the Eyes of my Darker Brother

Witness to the Confederate Empire
Dressing up good southern boys in Military attire.

Six hundred and fifty thousand men gone with the wind.
In the end.

Dead Brothers, 
and heartbroken mothers.

As the Southern culture crashes in the dust.
Now a new soldier arises from the ashes believing he is just.

The phoenix who dawns the white hood white cape,
The knight spawns lynch fate black boys can't escape.

String me up for the Klu Klux Klan.
Boy your heart of hate don’t make you a man.

Because even though my bondage days are said and done.
Brothers still faced with the sight of a gun.

Slavery's shadow invites me to a world so crude.
Lincoln's laws don't fight the spiteful attitude.

And reconstruction can't move fast enough,
To deal with all this disaster stuff.   

Limbless boys gonna live out the rest of their days in their personal walls of solitude.
  As he falls into a solemn mood.
He calls a defeated attitude.

Can we pick ourselves up from the rock and the rubble?
Find our strength in our struggle. 

Instead of fighting this civil war.
Marching off boys for blood and gore.

A history with to great a weight at this rate.
A legacy to leave behind, forgotten hate.

When Autumn Came

Maple leaves sit on solemn ground,
These joyous leaves betray themselves,
Witness of the invigoration, 
To such great beauty,
Enlightening upon my very nature,
Changes in visuality in subtleties,
 Finding only bitterness,
At the core of every apple,
At the heart of new desire,
With new needs of grand perspective, 
Humble hash of latent grasses,
Fall to ear from silent winds,
Taking autumn from here to there, 
Alive in sight once more. 

Mama Always Told Me

Ready to start on this path unfound.
Ready to drum on this silent sound.

Mama always told me to take the satisfaction with the sombering.
And you knew Mama, she never told no lies.

But now I've lost ya, cause ya left me to die here.
My sweet deviled dear.

When Cupid's arrow struck true.
I would'a carried the world for you.

But you didn't want my sniffling state. 
You said, what kind of man could he be at this rate?

Lost all my dignity trying to rekindle our fire. 
But even soul mates like us, have to retire.

And even you gave up on the best thing that you ever had. 
I'm not mad.    

Because Mama always told me to take the sweets with the greens.
And I will never forgive you for showing me what true love truly means. 

Dark Clouds

Dark caves humble for dark clouds to hide sovereignty.
Absent the sound of serenity.
Absent in the mountains, the meadows and the marshes.
Rifles supercede,
like a thread in a silk gown.
Finding itself slight, breezing in the wind.
Like-mindedness awakens, tranquility rests in infinite slumber.