"The Burden"

You'll never know heaven
unless you go through hell.
If you haven't sold your soul,
Just deal with the winters
And bear the cold.
It's not easy to chase summers
When the monkey on your back
Is a gorilla stuntin' in a hummer.
Or the old ball and chain
Is a reflection
of a love gone insane.
Crabs in a barrel
holdin' you back
like fiens copping for police
For an extra or free hit of crack.
Young generations
trying to steal your future
For a Newport.
They startin' habits so early
they're minds can't frame ways to support.
Old glory days
only memories
Of ruthless and deadly ways
of living unforgiving
until your aged and weeping,
Tired of sleeping
With dreams of tormenting demons
Who take the forms of baby mothers
breathing down your neck
Like evil, greedy, lazy heathens
Using their bodies
As tools of profit
against fools who have it
Less than the eye can see.
Truth and knowledge be
the only weapons
To set me free.

"The Streets"

How is it that I keep saying
I love you?
When deep in my heart
I really know I hate you.
I'm working hard
to keep my hands and feet off you,
But to get anywhere with you
I have to keep my ears to you.
When I was younger
you made me ruthless.
You instilled the building blocks
of who I am today.
If it wasn't for you
I wouldn't have the heart
to pull the tools out
and pick this world apart.
Build a new
and do the things
that is necessary for me to do.
You don't hug me,
You don't love me,
You keep me cold.
If it wasn't for my children,
because of you,
I'd probably have no soul.
The devil don't have no hand in you.
He can't hold a torch to you.
You the bitch he chase.
Thinking he pimpin',
but you smile
And spit in his face.
You turn boys to men.
Enemies to friend.
And hoes,
you bend, cripple and spend,
Like the dollars made on you,
displayed on you.
Careers,
national treasures,
lives,
and memories
Are built on you
And die with you.
And still,
We lie with you,
Lay with you,
And get by with you.
Without you,
I have to do
what the lord
Intended me to.

"Make it happen"

My back's against the wall.
Can't rap,
can't sell crack.
I'm too old for that
but my kids are young,
Too young
to understand that poverty ain't fun.
Can't pick up a gun and rob niggas,
liquor stores, pimps or whores.
I got talent and a pen that busts.
These are tools and gems of value.
They hold more glitter and luster than gold do.
Can't look back, can't regret,
can't cry,
Can't beg for a time reset.
That ain't the way it works,
that ain't life,
that ain't a man's worth
that ain't a father,
that ain't how god built earth.
We make it happen
against all odds,
No matter the consequence or faction.

"The thoughts thunk with idle time"

Idle time is truly the devil's playground.
This morning I woke up, not with thankful prayers on my mind like I usually do. This morning I woke up thinking and I quote, " I have nothing to do. Maybe I should throw away the future that I have coming to me and go and kidnap the girl that did me wrong last month."
That's crazy right?
But in my world of insanity that's my reoccurring thought.

A man's greatest hell is a bad woman.
Pimps, Thugs and hooligans
Maybe their worlds were birthed by the heart break of
a bad woman.
I love my woman but I hate my bitch
It's a fool's thought who thinks his world will change
once he becomes rich.
Kidnap, rape and murder
The inspired thoughts
from my love and hate for
Her.
Am I less of a man because I blame a woman
but who will stand up and clap
If I say it was I who allowed that.
Hear my plea.
Would my life be better if it were only me?
Or should I be grateful to know that the lord loves
And so life is not ended with
suffering and misery.
Or is it my foolish pleasures and insanity's love
for idle time that keeps me stagnated and entertaining
his company.
My brother told me,
"If money is the root of all evil, then a bitch has a quarter on every dollar."
But then I look at my daughters
and know that they have no quarters
on any man's dollars.
It's d'evils and a foolish man's pride
that keeps him pulling his hair
and wanting to holler.

"World builder"

"Some women like to say that it takes more than love to build a relationship. Those are the disillusioned women who have never found the right kind of love to believe in."

Love is the world builder's grain of sand.
The nucleus or the atom.
The foundation of Adam.

"World builder"
All I need is you
to build my world.
A heart given
is the building blocks
or the breath of air for the living.
The real fucking reason
for me to keep on breathing.
The unconditional sunshine for my every season.
Desire is the spark before fire.
The oxygen that causes smoldering embers
to burn higher.
Love will make me take the nothing that I am
and become something more than a man.
Its the destroyer of kings
And the wonder
that makes immortals want to be
normal beings.

I started writing this a couple months ago but I never posted it because I thought that it was to short and not adequate for the title. But as I re-read it, I thought that maybe it hit home with what it was saying but as always, I'll let you be the judge.

Old flames

When old flames die down
and become flamming embers
sometimes its not our place
Or authority to fan them embers
and make them burn again.
Flames are meant to die for a reason
and when we play with fire
Eventually we'll all get burnt.
Our hearts are furnaces
And love is an uncontrollable fire.
We love the warmth of an open hearth
but discarded embers is just that,
Embers meant to be discarded.
Not reminiscent flames
meant to be rekindled.
The excitement of fresh fires burning
Is new flames a blazing
And the crackle of new experiences.
Old flames
Is just new caked up heartbrakes
and not meant to be revisited.

I went back to an old flame
That was great when it was young.
The passion was uncontrollable
And the desire was flammable accellerants,
Alas, time and wisdom
has since become the maturity
That is the extinguisher
And I'm not all that young any more.
My heart still desires
An uncontrollable fire
For it's furnaced fashioned walls
but the chimney of the mind
Still remembers
Flames that left unhealthy soot.
Dead, dry twigs of loneliness
And the splinters of depression is no comparison
to the new yule logs of refreshing seasons of happiness.
New flames burn new and exciting trails
And the unknown fears of blinding, blue blazing passion
is gasolines flowing towards lit matches littered at our feet.
Who wants to kick a match
that'll set a spark
to burn new flames
And leave old flames to smolder in the dark?

Reality

For my facebook status I wrote, "Why do we keep going back when we know that our yesterdays aren't as good as our presents."
What I realized about myself and more than likely about the rest of the world is that the great majority of ourselves are insane. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.
We go back to pain daily and over and over again because it is familiar to us and to do something different and new is unknown and bone chilling scary.
To keep it on the I, I'm scared of my own success. For years I've known that I have a knack for this writing thing. I've always known that if I really invested a full hundred and fifty percent of my time in my writing I can really blow up and be successful, but like so many other individuals that recognize their talents and potential half way we know so well that there is so many other forces and woes holding us back.

My demons are the other negative talents that I have.
Apart from being a talented writer, I'm a gifted salesman and I mean really gifted. I can sell shit to a toilet (lol). It's my greed that really holds me back. The glory days of my yesteryears and all the other under the table hustles and back room dealings. Chasing the wrong dreams of profit has always kept me going or looking back into a darkness that'll keep me blind sided or better yet blinded to what can really propel me ahead. Dropping our baggage and letting go of our negative past is what will help us move forward and leave the insanity behind us.
Thanks for listening.