I promised myself today - I
will see myself for who I am - not
who I want to be
not giving up the potential for greatness
bottled up
but the titles of occupations are causing too much distractions - tractors
working in the midst of morning traffic
never a good start
Here's a piece that I wrote in collaboration with another writer name JasLee; another fellow Black Rose. The pieces is called "Lost Glasses".
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I like to talk to my self-
image reflects a taller shadow and I call him, "Dad" -
renamed from Adam - loud silhouette and see-through throat
reverberates apple until seeds fall to stomach roots
and I ask
"Why have I fallen from this family tree?"
cursing paradise between baseball tosses
since I've learned to speak your
low pitch - lost
unable to run home without
your memory
In contemplation,
my mind wanders from the
ill-witted jive.
Blindly, I continue with
baby-steps and blurred
seeing.
Not believing the blows
that remain scarred on my back side,
Never allowing insanity to
overwhelm me.
Hanging over head, there's a village of your past time -
ruins settled on mother's tongue when she speaks your
name. Flashback
rains forward - my head sprouts landscape 1990 apartments
and green hallways strectching for miles and flickering lights -
no bulb above my head, so I keep the sun out-
executing high rises
since we cannot exist in reality - re
define blueprints with solid lines - I'm tired
of trying to connect dashes
tried to put my future self
in a closet next to the wrinkled beige shirt -
where no light could expose
our crossed lines - crossed lives -
but it always gets too hot in there
hiding from an ironed rage
but I just can't
crease my past
it's rigid.
As tears travel over
pleated eyes and
arms exhaust from
being elongated to aid me in
finding my way.
Fingers widen, increasing
the space in between.
It seems that the travels will
never cease to end.
Bending the ends to meet
with no need for U turns like magnets
I'm attracted to past
before the ball was passed to me -
wanting to know what position
he
played
when I was still
too young to move - attention un-
centered - couldn't jump ball
to keep our game going...
I lost my focus
trying to look for
you.
I know, it's taken a while for me to get back here. But I am...officially. Lol.
Since I've been away, I've been hanging out on the sunny beaches of JA and taking care of a torn achilies tendon. But what I have found myself doing a lot of is sitting back relaxing, and playing this new game, Final Fantasy: Chaos Crisis for the Playstation Portable. And yes, I'm addicted.
For those of you who don't know about this video game. Chaos Crisis is the prequel to the major hit game Final Fantasy 7 that came out in in 1997 for the PS one.
But the one thing that I've missed the most of while being away from reality, is writing. I've returned to HipHopPoetry.com full force and am on the way to writing new poems and whatnot still in development.
But anyway, the point of this post, is a way to get my mind back in the habit of writing and reading. And I thought I'd spit a quick 16 about the aforementioned video game.
So here's what I like to do all the time, write, and what I like to do before I start writing, flexing my mind and words.
Mind you, I'm not a rapper at all...
I'm in the frame of mind, destroying time/
with itchy thumb triggers committing virtual crime/
a Final Fantasy/ I'm Cloud running pass Midgar bums/
searching for confusion keeping my brain numb/
No fun, bustin busters with a buster sword, I love afflictions/
but Sepiroth's sword is bout as long as my addictions/
to procrasitination, I don't smoke weed I play station/
Portable, smoking Shinra troops with chain gun sensation/
That's Barret with an automatic, his hand is a gun/
Representing the black man from the Sector 7 slums/
It's sensational, controlling characters who feel just like me/
Is this poetry in motion directing scenes like Spike Lee?/
25th hour, I'm devoured holding onto every minute I'm in/
Please don't let this battery die and I'm not ready to win/
Game over, I see it like it's looking over my shoulder/
It's over, I'm out of luck like a 3 leaf clover/
