Wednesday, December 24, 2008

tattoo time

ποιητής

Another Tattoo

ποιέω

God Like.

Have you ever sat on the hood of your Mercedes C Class
and looked out through the gates of your private backyard
and wonder how everything came to be…. Yeah me neither,
but I do wonder how one being could create everything I see
and himself not needing to be created because he was already here.
You know as I say that out loud my confusion is only gotten deeper.
How would we treat God as if he was just one of us?
That’s like coming up to a poet and telling them that
you love their work and giving them a low score.
You can’t tell a master how to create masterpieces.
What if Joan Osborn song was just a gate way
into seeing our architect more human than the bible leads us to believe.
What if God was a him, picking and choosing which
Woman he was going to conquer each day.
Would he be that player in wait?
Would he usher in a new generation of gangsters or saints?
Would he be an international rock star or a struggling poet?
Traveling the world to sow seeds of hope and wisdom,
while he is trying to figure out how he is going to feed his starving seeds.
What if God took on the task to be a she.
Would she be seen as a prostitute or a Queen?
Would she stop aborting her babies and start
a new army of angels who didn’t get their wings clipped too soon.
Would she marry for love or money or
would she find comfort in another woman and
live life with her own kind?
What if God was your Mother?
Would you call her every day,
would you listen when she told you not to stay out too late?
Would you finally be able to let go,
tell her your fears and your sorrows.
What if God was your Dad.
He came to everyone of your basketball games and was the loudest in the stands.
What if, he was the man that first taught you how to smile,
was the hand you held when you walked down the aisle
and was the first to hold his grandchild.
What if he was your brother or sister?
Would you still take her diary at eight,
would you still kick Toya’s ass for calling him out his name?
What if you accepted God for who he is?
For the one that carved mountaintops with finger tips,
Destroyed cities because of ignorance,
Flood the world to save humanity,
Sacrifice his son to save…. You and me.
Would to accept him as your savior, father, mother, brother, sister, or friend?
How different the world would be if we would just let God be God’s
Because I am sure that he can do him a little better than we can
And if we could just stop trying to solve all the world problem in one lifetime
Let the creator lead and the created follow…
life would be too hard to see through the stars.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Just me and Jon

The College dropout missed the late registration
which encumbered his matriculation, maturation, graduation
Which left his heart beat breakin'
like an 808 over the snare there's the bass then
The kick drum
They kicked him
out West
so he could manifest
his destiny
it's best that he
confess the need
to love his worst and best cause see
his vespers be like restless seeds
In need of Marys breasts to rest and feed
Showing that dark shades can’t shield his needs.
Countless women can’t heal
the feelings that he has left on his sleeves.
I feel bad for him,
cause all the money in the world
can’t bring his mother back to him.
I have tried crying for him
But eyes wide shut don’t produce to many tears
And over the years he has created this charter
That many can penetrate, his addition has left him in such a crack music state.
And black music states
that the Blueprint to these Life and Times
aretrifling rhymes,
leavin
you with Reasonable Doubt
About our ability to reason
which leaves white folk feeling
we're just agility and jumping
hov'ing and heaving
American Gangsters is the Dynasty
and legacy we're conceding
Until Kingdom Come
and the Black Album shows
that we been Kings and Queens
Longer than we been ho's and heathens
Harlots carrying around forbidden semen.
Judas and Brutus with backstabbing seasons.
We will be more than stars.
More than our fancy car,
house that we can’t pay the taxes fo’
I know that we are trying to live better than the average men.
Holding out open hands, for the white man can carry on his scam.
We try to do better, cleaning off dirty faces with soiled towels
We will never cut the lines from family.
We will never be comfortable hanging from the trees from our future seeds.
It Was Written I am God's son
so the future needs
Us to start believing
And stand Firm. The summer breeze and
Winds and change seem to lead
to better thangs
We gone need the Street Disciple to fight
just as much as we might
need the preacher to preach and the choir to sang
On the streets of Decatur I acquired the slang
and you don't have to be Nostradamus to see the fire and rain
they say Hip Hop is Dead but they a liar I bring
Lazarus out the tomb so I know I can exhume
the corpse, bring a hearse, breath a verse
that will reverse the curse until the N Word is retired for kings
and queens who live beyond their means.
Trying to reach for the finer things but
Coming back with scandalous things
Scandalous beings who can care less about
Changing things but have become our
ancestors nightmares at best
causing their rest to be disturbed
by the new beat that we drum too.
You see I am guilty of being swayed by the Devil’s hands
His claps have been the cause of my hips moving and
My common sense losing.
Common Sense is not so common
because life has gotten so confusing
an Electric Circus where you work with
Clowns the smile through their frowns
with no idea of what they're doing
but One Day it'll all Make Sense
the presence of the Renaissance Resurrection
Is always looming
I think we've all been assuming that it all has been for profit
it's like selling Water for Chocolate
it's hard to Borrow a Dollar when Creflo won't let go
it seems like even the prophets have turned the sanctuary into a market
I seek sanctuary so stop it, see
I'm looking for a space to park it and just Be me
A place where I can free my mind body and soul
I'm Finding that Forever it's been Universal Mind Control.

Monday, December 8, 2008

Me and John on love

Slowly take me in,
make way in the spaces between rib cages
and let me rest a little while.
I have been your love child for a while
and I just need to rest for a while.
I seek nothing but solitude in your chest cavity
Marry me so that our love will have validity.
Let our heartbeats not beat in vain,
But to sustain each other.
Like rain we oughta
renew one another
I knew not another
would touch me
Once I touched you last summer
you look through me
I look at you eighth wonder
as I lay and ponder
the ocean in your gaze
and pray the waves
take me under
drowning me in long forgotten sorrows so that your
pain can remind me how good it fees to love again.
To heal again, I can’t remember the last time I was this happy.
Happy to just hear the phone again.
Happy to say that I have a man.
My feminist gene sighs at me
Because all I can think about is how to make your life better.
How to make your role as Strong Black Man
in our love story not be so demanding.
Maybe it's me that's too demanding
maybe I'm bold like my father
and you too understanding
or never satisfied like my mother
Doves cry, their wings flutter
ever so lightly for the landing
I lay nightly with your hand in
my hand
I'm in a constant state of debate, prayer and planning
I wake and can't wait to smell your hair
and hear you dreams
and understand that I'll stand in
between your pillow and your tears
in case the scene turns nightmare
I was wrong once but please know I'm right here
right where
we belong
Where angels still sing our sweet song.
Heaven is envious of us.
Man wants to document us
So the patterns of love will follow us.
You and me, paired together through history’s time line as the
point of reference where everything was beautiful.
We wear full circles on lifeline fingers to tell the story
Of how star cross lover created consolations of be in love with
Hearts not just bodies.
We have been chosen to be the example to this
Real world how to leave in this surreal life and
Be Survivors.
And there are few others besides us
because our Flava
gives us a Real Chance at Love
And oh how I'd love
To Run way from the Projects
away from the past and past hurtful objects
and live the life of love and laughs the story books told
You're the Gibraltar Rock of Love
and there's no Rules on this Road
And truth be told… heartbreak was getting old
So I am glad you came to piece me back together.
Seal cracks that were left to be open scars
And you never ran from me
My open wounds never scared thee
You just placed my palm in your side and said heal me.
And I try to be your glue, filling kisses with Elmer.
Clear yet blue, because that’s our favorite color.
I let you sleep inside me because you said that
You feel safe there and for that time I feel blessed to be
Your womb carrying warrior.
Ready to die on the front lines for our house to stay a home.
You crown our seeds with royalty so that they remember where they came from.

Me and John Goode being very Random

He's your average Knee-ga-roe
he come through playing that Jigga high
acting like a gigolo
Sleeping in easy beds.
The cornerstone of his income are married woman,
Who have men that can’t please them.
Can't tease em right, can't eat em right
can't join em so they beat em might
kill em instead of treat em right
so they find the arms of another, just for a night.
She calls him daddy, he calls her whatever she likes.
He should feel bad, but someone has to love them.
Someone has to want em
Even if that someone is someone elses someone
But some come and some go
Even though some are dumb, some know
that he may never leave her ass
but every night he goes out searching for greener grass
Pastures that can remember where home is.
Knowing where a home is not just 4 walls and a roof,
But where your heart lives.
Where your art lives.
The King and Queen begot kids
But she can be the king of the castle
If he abdicates the throne
then the home is not his
or hers and in this game all loses.
She chooses a pipe dream fantasy,
While he’s glued into Girls gone wild 3.
And flavor of love on VH-1 & MTV
but he can't savor the love
of the one who like the savior
would die for his love
regardless of his sins and behavior
and he would rather save himself
than save her, reaching at his side
to feel his broken rib with no one
by his side to heal him.
Can you feel him
can you see him a little clearer
often time the man on the corner
is the man in the mirror
before we reach the coroner
we're all going to have to hear the
voice or reason
because you're the parliament and the proletariat
and lately you've been committing treason.
Being the reason why women clinch purse to chest.
Smoothing over dresses that have been wrinkled by the hands of times.
Fight a war we are destined to lose, because uniting to not fall didn’t hold true.

Another KORIM production

Cold summer's rain
Madness
seeking purity when
man
made prophets can't hold clarity in
hands
wrapped around jagged edges
melting
Mormon minds into thinking
ones
self is compared to unreachable
heights
building that have not been seen
through
corners of mental instability when cold summer's rain.

Thursday, December 4, 2008

Haiku Time


I'm not a baby,

unless that's what you call me,

make love to me, B.


Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Sleep



“Sleep, sleep my baby”
“Sleep, sleep my baby”
“Sleep until your crowned KING”
“Sleep, sleep my baby”
Is the song that she whispers to
her baby while he is still in her belly.
Vowing that this time she was going to do things right.
No more will she stamp her seeds, return to sender,
But remember that she was born to be a mother.
She sings a little louder to
drown out the voices of doubt.
Sponge dry, needing the
kisses from her prince in waiting to
Sooth her troubled mind.
She remembers how good it feels to love again.
Since she the day she found out that her life was making way for another.
She had nothing but questions.
She wonders what his voice will sound like,
Wonders if the timber
will be more like his father’s or mother’s
Wonders if his laughs will be loud or silent
Wonders if he will sing tenor to be her harmony
Wonders if he will be a poet,
because he has wrote some of the most
beautiful verses in her womb.
She wonders if all her dreaming will be in vain,
She doesn’t want him to become a statistic and
she is left crying at his grave
Or will he defy the odds,
look his stereotype in the face and say
“no, not today. I have dreams I have to pay off and
have no time to wait”
She prays that he will find God before it is too late.
Hopes that her sins will not mess up his clean slate.
Hope that he will be better than her.
Be able to crossover color lines and be able to touch
people’s souls and minds.
She carved is in her skin that she was sent
to not raise a mere man but a king.
Ruling this world with purpose and kindness.
She will teach him how to slay men with pens.
Teach him that his limit is the sky and
tell him not to stop until he is on cloud nine.
Show him love is always better shown than told.
Tell him to remember the
songs that they made together.
She will tell him that she is a better woman
because she was his mother.
She will be strong and confident
Scared and brave.
She will call him warrior and he will crown her Queen.
So until he can take his rightful place
on his earthly thrown.
She will sing:
“Sleep, sleep my baby”
“Sleep, sleep my baby”
“Sleep until your crowned KING”
“Sleep, sleep my baby”
Until you’re ready to change the world.

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Thought for the holiday...

Say hello to the you of who you are.
Say goodbye to the you of who you thought you were.
Love your imperfections because they make you beautiful.
Hate your perfections because they make you human.
Embrace your pen because your God's perfect poem.
Know that I would let death take me because life without
you would not be living....peace

Monday, December 1, 2008

I am thankful for....

.... not having to be with blood to call it home.
....finding my voice in poetry again.
... knowing that I have more people that love me than hate me.
....being true to my pen.
....loving hard and hating soft.
....forgiving those who hurt me and moving on with my life.
.... being a poet.
.... Michelle
...Shay
...Shatter
...Korim
....Shake
.... Brian
...13
...Zell Miller III
....EB
....LaLOVE
....."House of Words"
...... October 12, 1984
....My mom and Dad
.... for everything that makes me me.

I love you