Friday, February 20, 2009
The Ganulet Has Been Thrown!! (lol)
So for those of you unaware, it was not my idea to start a blog. It was a suggestion from the almight Nikki Blak (new book dropping soon...cop that ish!). So I wasnt really hip on what was required or needed to have a successful blog or what have you because well shit I never took the time to look at nobodys damn blog. Id rather be....well thats nunya damn buisness. But anyways the poinmoments ago i went to blakhandside.blogspot.com and learned that writing a blog is cutting a fool on cyber paper. Thats it! So in the near future be prepared to see me be, well simply put jus me. In all of my glory! Niggas beware! Hoes be ready! Its comin!!!
---untitled---
Lately,
Lately when I hit open mics I hear poetic letters, or soliloquies of “I want to tell you”, insert name hear
And I thought to myself,
Why haven’t I written a piece like that?
And I remembered that when it comes to name dropping time I insert fear
I remembered when it comes to dinner time I drive for fast grease or sit still hungry
Avoiding skillets and seasonings of memoirs of being housewife left homely
Homie….lover…..friend, comforter, provider, my beginning, my end….gone where?
How could I say ……when you claim to not even know?
How can I Dear John a poem, when you’re no longer meant to be dear?
How can I transcribe my feelings with ink of pain left on my heart forever seared?
I can four page this, just to envelop it in slices of potential oxygen to sign seal and deliver it where?
So why should I scribe to you what you’re not ready to hear?
Dear past,
I wish, no I pray I could change salted essences of your skewed images
But since my effort is measured in tears, the harder I try the saltier they become
Its inedible,
Left inevitable distorted and nearly cemented in your mere reflection
But mirror this love, echo the laughter,
Attempt to duplicate the moans, screams, pants of ass claps bent backwards and fail
She may call you daddy out of routine not out of premonition
I call you nothing short of what you were meant to be….
Father of my children, provider to our seeds, Adam to my Eve
Nigga please.
Lost? Lost is why you leave?
Give me more make it sore, make it stain,
Make me ooze hatred whenever your name crosses my brain…..Zachary.
Id give any and everything I am to love you once more or hate you till time ends
Because time doesn’t mend, at least it hasn’t, and will is too far to be calculated.
This pain has become saturated. Nothing can hurt me now.
Numbed to the heart crash that brought me down
Id writes you a letter but I’d end it…how?
Lately,
Lately when I hit open mics I hear poetic letters, or soliloquies of “I want to tell you”, insert name hear
And I thought to myself,
Why haven’t I written a piece like that?
And I remembered that when it comes to name dropping time I insert fear
But if I was less fearful my letter would go….to Mr. Jackson, forever yours my tears.
Lately,
Lately when I hit open mics I hear poetic letters, or soliloquies of “I want to tell you”, insert name hear
And I thought to myself,
Why haven’t I written a piece like that?
And I remembered that when it comes to name dropping time I insert fear
I remembered when it comes to dinner time I drive for fast grease or sit still hungry
Avoiding skillets and seasonings of memoirs of being housewife left homely
Homie….lover…..friend, comforter, provider, my beginning, my end….gone where?
How could I say ……when you claim to not even know?
How can I Dear John a poem, when you’re no longer meant to be dear?
How can I transcribe my feelings with ink of pain left on my heart forever seared?
I can four page this, just to envelop it in slices of potential oxygen to sign seal and deliver it where?
So why should I scribe to you what you’re not ready to hear?
Dear past,
I wish, no I pray I could change salted essences of your skewed images
But since my effort is measured in tears, the harder I try the saltier they become
Its inedible,
Left inevitable distorted and nearly cemented in your mere reflection
But mirror this love, echo the laughter,
Attempt to duplicate the moans, screams, pants of ass claps bent backwards and fail
She may call you daddy out of routine not out of premonition
I call you nothing short of what you were meant to be….
Father of my children, provider to our seeds, Adam to my Eve
Nigga please.
Lost? Lost is why you leave?
Give me more make it sore, make it stain,
Make me ooze hatred whenever your name crosses my brain…..Zachary.
Id give any and everything I am to love you once more or hate you till time ends
Because time doesn’t mend, at least it hasn’t, and will is too far to be calculated.
This pain has become saturated. Nothing can hurt me now.
Numbed to the heart crash that brought me down
Id writes you a letter but I’d end it…how?
Lately,
Lately when I hit open mics I hear poetic letters, or soliloquies of “I want to tell you”, insert name hear
And I thought to myself,
Why haven’t I written a piece like that?
And I remembered that when it comes to name dropping time I insert fear
But if I was less fearful my letter would go….to Mr. Jackson, forever yours my tears.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
...the Z train to Queens...
They say if you can't make it here
you can't make it anywhere
So, I guess our love died in the fifth borough of my heart
after living in his times square,
I mean, I couldnt bridge back to queen any king anywhere.
Subways couldn't get me to
suburbs of
substandard passion, happily ever after wishes dont
subdue my heart break so I
submit to defeat
subtracted from my pair
subtly dying...
subliminally lying...
truthfully,you could say our love couldn't make it.
But they say if you can't make it here
you can't make it anywhere....
But what about,
In alternate realites where impossibles are probable
Where dream clouds fill the skys
Kissed by the sunlights gleam of GODs eyes
Forgetting the nightmares of my present
And, when its morning
When its morning, There shall be no more mourning,
No more warring
Wth this bedside prayer for tomorrow
His dissapated Inscriptions of forever
That laid the foundations for this sorrow
Will be gone. No more matrix. He is the one.
No longer will I wear our history on the inside of my eyelids
Just so I can have the chance to dream our yeterdays nightly
Yearning for love, begging for more, feed us
Morpheous of destinys unknown
Discloses that alternative lands are not occupied by men
But by machine,
So in turn my dream turned nightmare deferred
No longer able to focus on what id prefer I refer to reality
Cognicent of this maybe never more manifesting to sight
Might this be my last strike? Why fight?
They say if you can't make it here you can't make it
anywhere...right?
Not in dream clouds
Not in marcy
I beg for mercy
Merci.
Please.
Por favor.
Pick the language
Rape my vocabulary
choose the words
Just heal the hurt.
I need this.
Tell me where we can make it.
That's where I will reside.
Home is where the heart is
But love is blind so I can't find
My way home.
It may not make it here or there, but somewhere...
Somewhere our love lives, happily
Like the endings that belong to fairy tales and dreams
But it seems as if the longer I countinue to love without sight
And my results cause such tumultuous plght
I must deduct that our love is in NY
Unable to handle everyone speedily passing by,
the bright lights, the high rise
Too fast, too bright, too high
Too much.
They say if you can't make it here you can't make it anywhere?
All I can say is....I hope they're wrong.
They say if you can't make it here
you can't make it anywhere
So, I guess our love died in the fifth borough of my heart
after living in his times square,
I mean, I couldnt bridge back to queen any king anywhere.
Subways couldn't get me to
suburbs of
substandard passion, happily ever after wishes dont
subdue my heart break so I
submit to defeat
subtracted from my pair
subtly dying...
subliminally lying...
truthfully,you could say our love couldn't make it.
But they say if you can't make it here
you can't make it anywhere....
But what about,
In alternate realites where impossibles are probable
Where dream clouds fill the skys
Kissed by the sunlights gleam of GODs eyes
Forgetting the nightmares of my present
And, when its morning
When its morning, There shall be no more mourning,
No more warring
Wth this bedside prayer for tomorrow
His dissapated Inscriptions of forever
That laid the foundations for this sorrow
Will be gone. No more matrix. He is the one.
No longer will I wear our history on the inside of my eyelids
Just so I can have the chance to dream our yeterdays nightly
Yearning for love, begging for more, feed us
Morpheous of destinys unknown
Discloses that alternative lands are not occupied by men
But by machine,
So in turn my dream turned nightmare deferred
No longer able to focus on what id prefer I refer to reality
Cognicent of this maybe never more manifesting to sight
Might this be my last strike? Why fight?
They say if you can't make it here you can't make it
anywhere...right?
Not in dream clouds
Not in marcy
I beg for mercy
Merci.
Please.
Por favor.
Pick the language
Rape my vocabulary
choose the words
Just heal the hurt.
I need this.
Tell me where we can make it.
That's where I will reside.
Home is where the heart is
But love is blind so I can't find
My way home.
It may not make it here or there, but somewhere...
Somewhere our love lives, happily
Like the endings that belong to fairy tales and dreams
But it seems as if the longer I countinue to love without sight
And my results cause such tumultuous plght
I must deduct that our love is in NY
Unable to handle everyone speedily passing by,
the bright lights, the high rise
Too fast, too bright, too high
Too much.
They say if you can't make it here you can't make it anywhere?
All I can say is....I hope they're wrong.
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