

FourDear Naomi,Four
It has been quite some time since I last wrote you. Since then I've found light bulbs And toilet paper- everything I've needed, And the great thing is I didn't need a man to help me. I didn't need help Untying unbreakable knots, Not that it wouldn't have Helped me pass the time. But you're right. Sometimes you pull and push And shove ropes that seem Never-ending, Anchoring themselves in a bottomless pit Of a million tomorrows And hopeless futures. But I pulled and grew stronger and broke through my rope.
By now


Come AliveI'm a little weighed down, A little torn about Situations That keep me waitin' In the same room As I assume Things will change, But they just stay the same. Going backwards Doesn't reveal any secret doors- No short cuts, No make-ups Or do-overs, Nothing pulling me closer As I tug and wrestle With every struggle. But I can't sleep through Decisions that aren't fool-proof. I won't even get to The next step without You. So here I sleep As life's steering wheel With bells ringin' And alarms goin' off WithCome Alive


Leaving High SchoolI will leave his hand To venture out and touch Some other girl's heart And no longer intertwine My heart with his hand- Not his heart. No, never his heart- Because at this school we Do not feel love. We feel bodies longing to break walls, Burn structures that tell us "no" To every dream that echoes our hearts. I will leave broken dreams In broken lockers, Dead friendships in hallways With kids screaming to get through Crowded doors- Really screaming to get out Of their parents' crowded dreams That box them up into schooLeaving High School


Breaking BudsBreaking buds, she says "Bold flowers were meant for bleeding And loosing their grip in the summer heat", Where petals don't want to lose their cool And stems fall over for the day Because work is just too hard With these bold flowers breaking out In colors that don't match green grass. Breaking buds, she says, "He broke mine" And hues that were better than others Said she couldn't compete with The sun-soaked soil that knew how To nurture better than any boy she loved. Breaking purple and popping blues, Seeds spewed and she spit in the wind, HopingBreaking Buds


I Am Not A RapperI AM NOT A RAPPER.I Am Not A Rapper
Nor do I wanna be That wannabe Who was gonna be The next one to see But is now a
One hit wonder, Wandering. Steady squandering His life without A song to bring Though he used To have a Song to sing But the industry Turned him into A songless beat. See I could Rock the beat Make you rock your feet And force you to Stomp the streets. But I refuse to be Ever referred to as A used to be Or one who Used to sing So I would neve


A Poem For PunNow just for a moment - let's be real; Nobody could spit like Pun.A Poem For Pun
I mean when Big Pun's lips spun Those lyrical rhythms into rhyme fabric Wrapped around lines packed in That fully automatic Gatlin gun he called a mouth- That's when classics happened.
Back when the son of Tony Montana's Words were in Deep Cover radio Smugglin gold into our ears through audio stereo with a flow that was something like
Like liquid fluidity wittily whittling riddles critically steadily stitching similes into me the epitome lyrically


Poets stand on citiesOr I could be a poet and write a different story where bridges are only means to cross rivers and sky scrapers don't decompose into trusses, concrete, and a monthly salary. where words can do more than write requests to build cities but begin to unravel them, exposing crumbling side streets. Not so desperate housewives in pristine suburbs can't see two blocks away a mother pulling her daughter to the ground wouldn't know to cover her head to dodge gunfire. but these words don't only tell downfall they also pull eyes to uprise 'cause paint-peeled walls won't hold anPoets stand on cities
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Please comment on my gallery, I've worked very hard on all that is in it: [link]
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risitas<3
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risitas<3
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risitas<3
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