Lone Poem

It’s a place you come to,
When you’re all alone,
Staring into the spaces of darkest hue,
Listening to voices’ desperate tone,

Just you and your thoughts,
Nothing to come between,
And your heart screams at a thousand watts,
You’re far away from all that you dream,

As you write with a consuming fire,
Your pen scratches paper,
Your patience long ago began to tire,
Your excuses finally taper,

Until there’s nothing more,
And you just write out the rest,
Leaving your core,
Gazing for hope alighting from the west,

Yet it never begins on the outside,
You have to breathe life,
Old wounds gaping open wide,
Fear of truth cutting like a knife,

The bare essence of being,
The nakedness of existence,
The blindness; which comes with seeing,
The battle with internal resistance,

Forces inside unwilling to change,
Fighting for a feeble cause,
The new way is frightening; strange,
Learning a new set of strictures and laws,

Finding your way back,
To who you should be,
Content with that which you lack,
Yearning to forever be free,

It’s a place we’ve never been,
Only thought of; not felt,
Searching for fields of green,
Beyond this bleeding belt....

Enough

All men have desire
All men have passion
But what do they want; what is their inspire?
What is it that makes them glow in such carnal fashion?

We are creatures base
We all want something we can’t attain
That which is just beyond our taste
As we keep on through the shrouded rain

But what if we stopped to suddenly ponder
What is it that we yearn?
What makes us through this barren world wander?
What is it, which causes our stomachs, our hearts, our very souls burn?

Why do we for so long blindly flail?
Why is it that we search for some kind of confirmation?
Of who we are and the reasons we let our warships set sail?
What is this foul demon that keeps man from his elation?

Perhaps it isn’t even demon or Satan spawn
Perhaps it truly is only he
Wrestling with himself despite the dawn
Keeping him from everything his God wants him to be

Even when he sees the truth,
He still finds a place in his heart where he is discontent
A place that is ruled by carnal claw and tooth,
He does the only thing he can: he kneels to repent

So here he is; humbly wrong
He knows he’s been wayward
But he needs you to help him be strong
For he knows his thoughts are as fleeting as a bird

He wants to come back to the fold
And feel your loving embrace
Because out they’re the world is heartless and cold
Jesus; I’m begging you; show me some of your amazing grace.

Long Time No Post

To those who are reading this
Or not :)

Since I have not posted in the longest
I'm gonna put up some poetry that I've written in the past few months.
Read em
Like em
If not
I don't want to know :)

May post later tonight
About entropy and such

Blessings be upon thee
Me


Un Penned Inc.

Forever
Staring at the blank page
Wondering if they’ll accept it

Forever
Fear haunting from the back
Mindful of the nameless

Forever
Searching for “home”
Falling short

Forever
Daised and confused
Soaking up the entropy

In ecstasy

With a stumble
A Fumble
A Tumble
And often a Grumble

Feeling the shudder of Earth
Truly
For the first time
Its massive bulk rotating
Reassuringly enormous under
Foot
Wheel
Whatever

So perhaps there is no

Forever

And perhaps there’s just

Tomorrow

A blank page...


Bent

The machine burns
It’s not satisfied
The machine always wants more
More will never be enough

We are products of the machine
Always searching
Never finding

Yet we seem content
With who the machine
Says we are
And who we should be
And whom we should associate with

We can sit here and lie to ourselves
About who we are
And why we are here
Yet all that ends up producing
Is broken people
Staring at themselves from both sides of every mirror

Dust in the wind
At the end of all things
Tossed about by the storm

By the songs, by the books and papers
By the “sages”, by the politicians,
By those we trust, and those we don’t

Because we’re all so vulnerable
Yearning for even the smallest scrap
Of control over our own domains
“Sad little kings
On sad little hills”

The more we know
The less we know

That’s the beauty of things
That something can come from nothing
Hope amidst chaos

Hope that nouns can “morph” into verbs
That ideas
And ideals
Would turn into action
That people; like you and I, would actually act on
What they claim to believe in

All we can do is hope
Maybe you say that I’m naiive
But I don’t think hope is
Irrelevant

And it doesn’t have to be deep
Because we don’t care if the machine
Thinks it’s not
Thinks we’re not

It doesn’t have to be deep
It’s hope

Instead of chains
Hope brings us
Wings...


Summit of Divide

Reclinin’,
I see the world around me dyin’,
There seems to be no silver linin’,
Urban sirens don’t stop cryin’,
Terrors of my generation’s authority defyin’,

Misunderstandin’
Name brandin’
Leads to gun handlin’,

There is no respect,
Black poetry fraught with angry words that inflect
Which some o’ my people say, “infect”
Rages of the poet: a defect,
How their daddies used to neglect,
So I flip on a track when I feel down; out; decked,
In essence; a testosterone inject

Yet I’m white,
I grew up in a town exclusively light,
Blacks kept virtually out of sight,
Who are really seen as everything that isn’t right,
No matter what my teachers’ try to tell me about Dr. King’s height,
I know Blacks here would get...do get...the brunt of Mr. Cold Shoulder’s bite,
Even with ghettos around in ten minute’s flight,
I feel unaware of the dark man’s plight,

So, should I be listening to his song?
Plugged into his tribulations all day strong,
Cuz my dad’s paycheck is more than five zeros long,
So if I’m a product of the suburbs
And I cry because of my trials
Does that make me wrong?

I’ve never even seen an ounce of crack,
Memories of a shootout I indeed lack
No parent’s bags I’ve seen packed,
I’ve never had to look behind my back,

But maybe I do everyday,
But it’s not because of bullets but what people say,
Despite all the times I kneel and pray,
There’s people I see pay,
For this country’s great dividing way,
I see them caught between two worlds, which hold sway,
Trying to be white; trying to be black, and all they can see is gray,

Well Uncle Sam, all I can
Think
No
All I can
Know
That this is all

Unfair,
I watch each side’s hateful glare,
It’s like every other conflicting pair,
So I listen to the rappers and hip-hoppers infuriated ware,
I know I will never breathe a black man’s air,
Or be able to know why he watches those that reject him with such an intense stare,

It makes me cry every time I hear his native people sing,
It also makes me cry when I realize the only real thing,
I know about Africa is what I saw in the Lion King,

I know how it feels to be different too though,
I too know what it means to be low,
Locked in prison with nowhere to go,
I know how it feels to rhyme as I feel a warm internal eternal glow,
A glow, which keeps me awake at night like Tupac or even Poe,
I yearn to inspire; awaken the average Joe,
So that he would know,
No longer be so slow,
As he reads along my flow,
Understanding why I put on this show,
For them and me it’s not about the dough,

It’s about
Recognition
Of our trials; our position,
So when we put our pen to paper; our key to the ignition,
We know that this isn’t a competition,

We both,
Have seen the Promised Land,
And are a part of a fellowship of poets holding their brothers by the hand,
We’re not quite running our fingers through God’s golden sand,

Yet we have
Hope and Faith
That we will say

“I have been to the mountaintop”
Yet even before we are there
We are already
As the song says

“Free at last
Free at last
Thank God Almighty
We are Free at last!”

Every man has his quest,
I see that each side will not rest,
But all we seem to want to know is who’s the best,
I know this is just a trial, God’s test,

We shall all overcome
Forever climbing the mountain’s crest...