At Arm's Reach

& a Mule

& when Pusha said, 

“The toothless crackhead was the mascot,” 

& that’s all it took for him to get his 40 acres, 

it was more than just a bar. 

It been the vision of circumstances that kept Me pushing. 

&, i recognize the beautiful, 

yet disrespectful balance of life. 

Similar circumstances pushed the pusher. 

But, who claims the guilt of My brother’s nightmares? 

Who coddles the baby girl destined for a future fix? 

Who raises the man from boy whose roots caved in to obsession? 

Overdosed on thoughts channeling the grand mother, 

same who dozed off them grand wonders, 

i wonder. 

How i could cope with them same gestures? 

Heart broken before the first breath, 

i cope with addictions that lead the blind. ...

Holly's War (From Holly War's Mural)

Like Spilled Red Wine

There's a history of blood on crosses. The gallons 

of blood shed on the intersections of King Ave. 

and Malcolm X Ave. Every ounce a mockery 

of the names sacrificed to violence. Or rather crucified by it. 

The countless young men 

and women caught up in juvenile mentalities 

think Scarface died on the cross. 

& I'm not religious, but it's a wicked vision. 

They internalize 

banana clips more than the world externalizes the ape they are falsely portrayed as. They read 

asinine rap lyrics like holy scriptures and preach 

those words through their ignorance of self. 

They baptize themselves in cognacs & blood 

until they are drunken and blind by the vain of sin. 

& the misconstrued truths in the poetry of death. 

Because there is truly nothing more Shakespearean than bloodshed,...

Reflection of Transparency

I'm standing here staring in the mirror.

I can't stand the image portrayed.

A figure wrapped in a vest of flesh, 

but empty it is, 

living without an organ in its chest.

I am soulless like roadkill.

Must be, to allow the birth of tragedy from the womb of love.

I've walked among the souls 

with melodic heartbeats that sang gospels 

without even speaking a single word.

Or maybe I just couldn't hear the lyrics 

because they were only meant to be felt.

And when I look upon my flesh I see veins, 

but the nerves of sensory and emotion aren't felt.

My vision of sympathy 

and empathy are transparent.

I am possessed by the inhumane spirit 

of a specimen whose alienation is love.

This is the only justifiable answer to the question

that I could pos...

Lost In Introspection

Glass shattered like shattered dreams.

 I'm stepping on the pieces and bleeding from the stings.

 I try to mend the pieces to preserve the illusion of satisfaction.

 Those illusions like a land of hope, held treasured.

 Most of the time it leads to destruction, but even a dirty rock can turn to a diamond in the presence of great pressure.

  I've never been to the land of promise.

 I only seek to fulfill such treasures.

 I was born a person of promise without the presence of financial pleasures.

 My bank account doesn't resemble my heart or soul.

 Nor value.

 If you can't afford sunshine, you live in the shadows.

 Work to see the sun each day while life brings you d...

Ungrateful

 Once I realize its true value, those moments have already perished.

 Who's at fault when our time becomes essence-less?

 When we begin to question our coexistence.

 How do we make each moment resemble something of elegance?

 Time must be at our mercy because time is merciless.

  Forgive my sins and all my sins that may become friends.

 The time I have left only depends.

 Many circumstances.

 Moments left up to chances.

 I surrender to pessimistic thoughts on multiple occasions.

 Only make moves when motivation is provided by mental persuasion.

 Or when exteriors give me a motive.

 So...

At Arm's Reach

My Lyrical Enlightenment

My head spins like a Dreidel in December.

Searching for God's grace while laying in bed like an open casket.

Waiting for His resurrection like it's Easter Sunday.

At mercy to the Devil's work by Monday.