Rest Well my Angel..

Mel was one of the most loving, caring, kind hearted, most giving person that I know and the Angels are rejoycing to have you home.. I will miss you and I will always love you... please save my space next to yours in heaven.

This is from the Movie "13th Warrior"

There is alot going on... and when I feel like I am not strong enough I read this and I feel better. Hope you like it.

Viking Death Prayer

"Lo there do I see my Father
Lo there do I see my Mother, my Sisters and my Brothers
Lo there do I see the line of my people
Back to the beginning
Calling me to join Them
Bidding me to take my place among Them
In the Halls of Valhalla
Where the brave
May live
Forever."

He keeps my pen hand strong...

I am afraid.
To shy to speak this into
existence but I know that it is coming.
I miss you.
I have tried to fight this since you left.
Once again,
Uncle Sam has decided that we are the ponds
in his new game of war and
we do our patriotic duty to stand there and get played.
We have been programmed to move forward without
taking the time to love being right here.
You were taken before we even got a chance
to know if this was real or not.
I am afraid to say your name,
not knowing if the next time I say it,
the letters will be engraved or
rolling off my tongue in our forbidden bed.
I am scared of being here without you.
I don’t what a t-shirt with your face.
I don’t want to go to any benefits in your honor.
I just want you home,
is that too much to ask to see your face again?
I just don’t understand
why God would put you in my life just to lose you
and I know that life is sometimes not fair
but those never meant more to me than they do now.
My pages can’t hold on to anymore of your tears.
Promise me that you will be here
to wipe away the doubt,
hold me until the pain turns into joy.
Don’t fight for this country,
fight for me,
and fight everyday to get closer to our safe place.
I will stand by our shores and
be your light house home.
I promise my next tears will be on your shoulders
and I will say “Welcome Home”

i wrote this a while back... just posting it now.. yeah I know I suck sometimes.

Cool hands embrace tense chins,
wishing they could heal broken hearts and
quite trouble minds.
With history repeating itself,
early morning writing sessions have not
released the pain and spikes piercing
though empty “I love you’s” have left you … hollow.
The holy needs the sins of another to be washed away.
I sleep next to you,
my cold hands pressed to your
tough temples and I tell you
“ Letting go won’t be painful and I will reach
into your hell and store your nightmares in
my womb for a little while until they
mature into air light dream.
Carrying memories of when you were happy.
Since your mind is so focused on haunting
you I don’t mind if you rest in mine for a while.
Fell the warmth of the sun on your skin,
squish sand in between your toes and
watch love hues peek over horizons and
listen to the winds,
for they are singing a song welcoming you home.
I know that you have been left for dead in loves
aftermath but let these hands revive you.
Hold you between rib cages until your heartbeat
finds its melody again. I want nothing more than
for you to be happy, but it seems like you have
settled to walk this life’s journey alone.
But going alone is not your only road home.
Building bridges to your heart has not been
easy but I keep bricks and mortars on standby
just in case you decide the burn the
work that we have done.
You cut down Rapunzel’s hair like her
strength was not enough for you.
You are looking for perfection
in this imperfect world.
You life is mirroring death in so
many ways that you are scarring me.
This is hurting me to believe that
this was not meant to be. I see that man that you
were trying to be: holding your wife’s and children’s hand,
making retirement plans and all the while
just being happy to be your own man.
I wish I could dream for you.
So you can see what I see in you.
I wish I could take throse rose
colored glasses off,
so you can see that
I am still here with cold hand,
trying to show your were home is.

Cont of Writing Lab... 2.15.09

I watch her make melodies with heartstrings and she is the most curious creature God has blessed me with. I want her not for a night but a life time, she smiles when I am not the gentleman I need to be and she yearns for my touch. She tells me that I am intoxicating, but what she doesn’t realize is that being with her is better than any black I have hit. Her words sooth me, her eyes thrill me and most of all her patience kills me. Not that I could have any woman, but she is so far out of the ordinarily that I don’t mind the extra to get next to her. I see new books being produces in her womb, birthing stories to tell our grandchildren of our new beginnings. I wish my life didn’t lead me down paths that kept me away from her. I have been around the world and never met anyone quite like her. Angles sometimes fall and stars sometime burnout but she is everlasting. And I wish I could tell her these things and for her to make sense of it all, but my past sometimes tarnishes my good intentions and the bruises that I have caused on many hearts have caused her to close hers from my own, but I will not stop trying to show her that in this little span of time I can become her everything, because she has already become mine. Heartbeat will not last a life time, but the impressions that you have left on the rhythm will carbon date our story to when Kings made women their Queens in one night. Her mind flatters my intentions of becoming hers for one night, but I am asking more that can you just be my man, but can I have your hand to hold when this road gets to tough or can I call you to say I love you because I just can’t get enough. If I had an extra day I would give her forever, a never-ending promise that today will be the start of our beginning. I will hold on to the landmarks that led us to today, trace back our roots of yesterday and watch the forecast of tomorrow. It’s funny that after all the bad relationships and the time that I have stayed away from my kids I have found heaven in the dark coroners of my poetry dreamscape. With traveling being my first nature and loving second I will keep my factices alive on burning paper. But for now I will hold on to this stand and tell her I love her in stanzas and catchy lines because reality sometimes need time to catch up with fleeting ideas.

Part of the writing lab 2.15.09

The divine heart has been touched by swollen tears; it is time to nurture the divinity in your prayers.


I would like to show you the God in me so sit back and relaxed and read into my divinity. I have taken time from past lives to piece together my super powers, and I can’t say for sure that I have always known this. I have researched my lifelines that have been cut off from my laugh lines and deep impressions have caused some memory lapse. I strain sometimes to realize my greatness. God dwells within me, but sometimes I hide him from me. It like I wrote a note to not forget myself and I forgot where I but the note. Sometimes my self-esteem has left little to the imagination of what I was lacking but I never forgot you on my journey to become whole in your eyes. It’s the age old battle of becoming perfect vs. being perfect enough for you to love me and I have reached the age of accountability to know that both points don’t matter and falling is not my mission, but getting up is. I have taken plane rides, cruise lines, jumped into beds that were not mine, looked for heaven in Satan’s eyes just to find out that God never left me, but was waiting for me to see the “wrong way” sign. I wish that my heart was not touched by so many desert tears, but joy doesn’t come without some pain, and living right doesn’t come without some bloodstains. So I dare you to tell me that you don’t hear the God in me. Look into the hollow holes in my hand and tell me that you do see my sacrifice. I have been the lashes in Jesus back and the bag of silver in Pilate’s hand at the same time. I have denied God more than three times, and asked him to remember me in my time. Its funny how the created tries to control the creator and with choice we have lost purpose. I pray for the day that you get to see God in you but for now I will share my stitched on wings until you are ready for your own. It is ok if your wings come back broken, your healing will be your redemption, your testimony will start with “Thank you” and other blinded angels will follow the God in you to get home safely.

Random facts about me..

So if you dont know... one of my favorite bands is PAramore, and because I love them you should too.... Buy their stuff now... buy it...

My thoughts about love.. kinda

I tried to call you yesterday, but there was no answer.
I tried to call you yesterday, but there was no answer.
I tried to call you yesterday, but there was no answer.
So I stopped calling.
I stopped stalling.
Stop pausing the pulses in fake designer purse.
I can’t pretend anymore,
I can’t stop my constant shores.
So in an effort to get your attention,
I have been silently screaming for you to say ….
Something.
But I have always been ready for nothing,
seems like I have just been built
to watch from a distance.
Peeking through seared lashes to show
that my love is not a fantasy,
but factually present in our ever changing world.
I have reached through concrete confections to
find that sweeten times are not at the end of
my rainbow and wedding isles and straw
piles can’t keep me safe. So I have been
sleeping in between lovers dreams
that will never come true. Wrapping forgotten
mothers doubts around my womb, to keep aborted
children’s imagination alive because they are
better to handle rejection than me.
I have even gone as far as to take
the stars from your eyes to map out
the course to your heart quickly,
waiting for you to say go.
Though I am ready for your positive,
I am ready for our negative.
His looks kill,
but I have been dying for his death sentence,
making ticks in my cell wall to show my persistence.
I have never wanted a last meal so bad.
But you say that I am not ready for my
execution and I have accepted that.
I have never been one to speak in
circles but this merry go round
suite my present state of mind.
Wind blowing my hair clearing
pathways to my ears to hear the
receiver be your calling card.
No longer am I in the shadows of jaded lovers,
but finally free that you are not worth it.
I stopped calling you yesterday because I got my answer.
power

strength is disgusting

mistakes are the only thing worth trusting

So this is what happen to me... I mean this is not me but this is what I went through,...

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.

HA Ha

The next tattoo

משורר; פיטן
Poet.

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.