Where you at?

I have been out a while haven't I?

Haven't blogged about life and the disorderly as of late. I have been on a purge trying to source words for other realms of writing for the time being. But I do miss writing here. Expect something soon.

Th3rd

The Kind of Love I Want For Me

I want the kind of love that endures

The same kind of love I’d climb mountains for

Or travel to some distant shore

I want the kind of love for which I’d break down doors

A love that isn’t bound by one’s personalities

A love that opens your eyes to the beauty of the trees

And the grace in the flight of bees

And your heart beats to a new melody

I want a patient love that just allows me to be me

Without standards that falsely measure my heart’s capacity

A love that doesn’t need a barometer

A love so perfect that you can just let it be

I want a love that is born out of caring and respect

So neither one of us are ever accused of or faced with neglect

A love that is nurtured with understanding

A love that is not so demanding

I want a love that makes me rush to get home

To remind her that she will never be alone

I want a love that makes me once again believe

And not have to worry about being deceived

I want the kind of love that makes me cry

Not that I want to cry… but let me explain why

It reminds me that for me the love would not be a lie

That kind of love where you don’t have to even try

A pure love because there is an ease and comfort that it brings

And makes it easy to kneel on one knee holding a wedding ring

The kind of love that opens your ears to hear the angels sing

And opens your heart to the world’s greatest thing

I want a love that flourishes with time

I want a love that simply promises to be

Everything that I ask for in this rhyme

That’s the kind of love I want for me

Our Worst Enemy

Displaced from home and brought across the seas

Disgraced and exploited for prophet and greed

Forced into slave labor to supply their master’s needs

Though some did escape… most just hung from trees

Nine lashes with the whip… then just left their to bleed

Denied the opportunity just to learn how to read

It’s no wonder they risked life and limb just to be freed

President Lincoln supposedly provided the key

Merely a tactic used so the South wouldn’t succeed

And when finally we were freed

We were introduced to the kind of people that Jim Crow breeds

Now even more we’re hanging from trees

Because of the contempt some people keep

Solidarity arose because there was a need for unity

Demonstrations… really peaceful situations… were met with hostility

Separate facilities were provided for our needs

Separate water fountains were provided for us to drink

A King arose because someone needed to lead

Following in the path made by former leaders' feet

The FBI seemed to erase a kingdom by killing it's Kings

Deaths shrouded in conspiracy

But that Kingdom is not completely deceased

It lies within the pride of which our grandparents speak

The path they traveled was forged from the calluses on their feet

They were the ones in the Black Panther party

They were the subjects of an FBI sting

COINTELPRO was designed to destroy them in the streets

Flooded us with cocaine and crack... meant to destroy our communities

We legally fight them with the NAACP

For the uplifting of our people is truly necessary

Social and political sabotage instituted empirically

Our right to vote is not really a right you see

The Lyndon Johnson Act makes it only temporary

Scheduled for a re vote next year when Congress reconvenes

Just leads me to believe, socially and politically

That we're still held on a very long leash

As a people we did make strides towards equality

It seems only to be met with a more subtle racist mentality

And there are still places where we STILL hang from trees

We're not exactly helping our cause either... you see

There is no unity within the Black community

And the younger generation? They live by a different creed

Only out for self... motivated by making money

Not that I blame them but they act and they don't think

Fueled by sin under the mask of virtue... that is pure insanity

No hopes... no dreams... no goals it seems

Sports and entertainment have given them opportunity

But behind the scenes THEY somehow seem to pull the strings

Throw millions in the laps of kids... give them the key to their dreams

Throw them on the world stage to shine ever so brightly

Their lives in the hands of men that just use them to make money

Another alternative is the processed derivative of the coca leaf

Which only leads you down two parallel streets

One leads to the penitentiary

The other to the cemetery

West Side Story

I'm from Baltimore's West side

Folks might say it's the best side

The truth is it's where the distressed collide

Some fire guns and the others die

Where mothers clutch dead children to their breasts and wonder why

"Why oh why did my child have to die?"

Praying to God to get them back but only left to cry

To escape this hell I've tried

But once again it's here I subside

The city that reads? Somebody lied

More like the city that bleeds... you can still see where the blood has dried

Where the dealers sleep all day and post up all night

Where fiends sniff so much dope their notrils are dried

Shoot so much crack their brains are fried

Smoke so much weed they have bloodshot eyes

Drink so much liquor their livers are expired

Where nothing remains... everything has it's time

There use to be an economy on the rise

The only businesses left sell fake hair or chicken and fries

Dudes selling loose cigarettes on the side

Cemetaries are full but that's not a surprise

Morticians make a killing in my city where so many die

You can hear the sirens everywhere... another day in the life

Make one wrong move.... the autopsy table is where you'll lie

M.E. pulling out bullets from your back and your side

"Maam... I think this is your son.. can you please come down and identify?"

There ain't that much to do here... some club like Choices on a Friday night

Guaranteed before you leave someone will get in a fight

Grab some grub at a spot open all night

Make it home just before the morning light

Sleep all day and do the same thing the next night

Now how's that for urban plight?

We Are A Part

We are apart of long lineage of those that understand what the meaning of burden is

A race that have stood on the front line in the war on poverty

That knows the pain of watching their loved ones hanging from nooses

Done by those who looked at their lives as a novelty

For whom 40 acres and a mule were replaced with 40 ounces and the blues

And we can still feel the dogs biting at our ankles and the separate list of rules

We're the ones whose accomplishments never made the news

Our elders reduced to shining the shoes of rich white fools

Big mama's too tired to tend to us 'cause she's worked all day chasing the white ladies' kids

She came home with just enough strength to cook us a meal

Barely had enough time to sit down and rest her eyelids

Before having another long day with which to deal

We are apart of the moment when Jackie broke the color lines

And when Martin spoke of reaching the promised land

And when Malcolm wanted people to mobilize

And when Garvey wanted to take us home again

We apart of a proud long history of pioneers

Of honor and joy

struggle and pain

scars and millions of tears

And we continue to tread forward

Overcoming again and again