Thanks.

Man, this shit is self-explanatory. I don't wanna make people think that I write these bitter and savage poems just because; I always have a muse for such bitter imagery. Thanks!

I tried to be the best friend I could be

Wondering and praying 1 day you would need me

A mistake I was seen

A mirror split screen image of your bluntness

Had no problem with dishin' out bricks at others

Why the fuck did I trust this?

This waste of sperm and female egg

Heart ripped open, you through me in a cave

Screamed out ghost songs of slaves

Before my corpus was found in three days

Insecurities covered by prestigious collegiate knowledge

And bitchy backtalk

I loved you for your "realness"

In this box I got locked

If you were here I would treat you

Like the Brit Barbie

Another fake bitch thrown in the Pacific

The games you played terrific

Love potion bein broken

You neglecting me after I found out my cousin died

That shit wasn't scripted

My heart you threw, pulled and ripped it

My smile, killed and ate it

Seven years after martial law

Your belligerence I will say I never forgave it

Hollywood couldn't sell an earthy bitch

The audiences couldn't crave it

Rather than realness

She chose ridin' dicks of "yes" men

Named Sundiata and David

Don't tell me you love me for the same reason

That you hate it

You told them to lick your ass and feed you bullshit of how great you are

And of course, the pussy niggas worshipped and obeyed it

Check everything I stated

My love for your selfishness I traded

I was too blunt and too belligerent

I never kissed your ass and I never said you were perfect

Another genocide in my heart, mind, body, and soul

You burn me down, incinerate it

While my heart you ravish and rape it

Autodafe you displayed it

You left me to destroy myself

While you walk off in the sunset

With 100 pussy niggas

Makin' the little Muslim insecure girl feel better about herself

Believing that her knowledge through books defines her self worth

Lyin' to you, they do saying that you are the greatest

Now you laugh off the catastrophe that you paved this

Now pay this.

Weathered.

12/5/06
The notes from hearing Chris from that familiar and strangely-popular band, Coldplay danced in his ears. The thoughts and memories of that one person that he treated like shit because she wasn’t beautiful enough or even thin enough. The feeling of walking down the desolate road towards his farmhouse from the illuminated campus in his background bringing clear pearls from his eyes. Black pupils were now prevalent were there once were bright brown eyes. The first chords of the piano in the song “Trouble” reminding him of how much trouble he had been to everyone who had ever loved him. The thought of wanting to just get up and jump off the edge of the two-story balcony outside his room became more evident. But, he repressed this thought for he knew that his family and friends would need him eventually. Even if not now; eventually they would need him.
Peering back and forth, forward and backward throughout his room in the dim light of the 5:24 evening, he realized something that he hadn’t before ever in his life. He had never felt so low ever, and he began to question why he was feeling low now. “Oh…never mind…I know why,” he replied to himself as the first haunting cords of his favorite band, Chevelle’s song, “Closure” began to play in the background. Hearing this song helped him realize that he had destroyed any kind of relationship with anyone that truly gave a shit about him. Any great soul of a woman in his life, he couldn’t realize how much of a jewel had stood in his presence. He would find ways of sabotaging their interaction. But then in return, months later with another female he cared for more, he would treat her subconsciously better than he had the one that gave a fuck about him in the first place. Karma would then bite him in the ass for hurting the previous girl that cared for him by the current female pulling some kind of a stunt to sabotage their friendship/relationship/whatever you want to call it.
“Do I ever cross your mind…anytime/ do you ever wake up reaching out for me?” he swayed back and forth remembering the one he shouldn’t have left. The remaining minutes of “Anytime” by Brian McKnight pushing him more into the reason why he sat in his room alone in the first place. “I miss you….I miss you…I miss you.”

Closure Room

“Write a story,” Kevin told himself as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He could hear the echo of heavy bass in the background shaking the hell out of his walls of his house. “Hmm…yes…that’s some more bubble gum shit,” he told himself. His lips pressed against one another, pupils hitting 360’s in the back of his skull as another BET Minstrel Show rapper’s trash (I mean, excuse me, music) blared through out the whole house. His forehead bore the parallels of a Hanes T-shirt in a closet, wrinkled and in dyer need of ironing. His eyes gazed around the four-cornered living room, peering at his imaginary company around him. Shrugging his shoulders and welcoming the phone call of an ex-girlfriend while the television watched itself. The sunlight no longer pressed through the Venetian blinds; the air outside began to kiss the windows leaving a frosty dew reminding him of the wet kisses we used to get from an ex flame. Yes…the one he shouldn’t have left for “her.” His lips now chapped and in need of his occasional tongue to keep them moist and his eyes still entertaining his imaginary company that stared back at him tearing two abysses through his skull. The lights on his phone starting to flash as his pupils grew wider and his lips parted showing all of his 58 teeth; only to be replaced back again with more wrinkles in his forehead and a heavy gust of wind leaving his mouth. The caller I.D. read a phone number that was over ten digits and started with the digits, “011.” For he was in Maryland at a farmhouse on his college campus sitting in his living room as the Sun died being suffocated by Night, and he knew that “she” in the UK wasn’t even thinking about him. Like she said, he could easily be replaced.

Welcome To Your Ending.

Song of the Moment:
"Fuck You Lucy" by Atmosphere

Thanks for all of the reasons I kept you around as a friend
Thanks for the reasons I should have left you deep within
Thanks for the pain I felt for being so blunt
Thanks for showing me you're nothing more than a selfish cunt
Regardless of what you say
I came over 3,000 miles away
To actually think I would see you today
But then I realized
You weren't even worth the trip
The stupid ignorant bitch
The selfish thoughtless Trick
The scars and scrapes they itch
When you basically spoke in vermilion reasons
Another broad that claimed to be cool as Spring seasons
But colder than December
The words you spoke last night
My face disfigured
Now I see
I should remember
That I should have never gave a fuck about you
My skin peeled back
Muscles no longer strong
But weak and tender
Burning and scared
My soul feels lost
Another genocide feathered and tarred
But all you were was another synthentic bitch
As I hang from this noose
Trying to captivate my world
Body swaying in the horizon
Gasping from the truth.
..
There was really a strong motivation for writing this piece right now off the top of my head, but I am ironically not going to be blunt. Thanks for being my muse on this subject!

Six Months Wasted.

I would honestly like to thank Barbie for showing me that you overly materialistic poshly pampered fuckin synthetic broads aren't worth my time.
Please do enjoy your poem!

The difference between black rich and poor
Is your personal wine cellar and our corner liquor store
An Uncle Tom ass nigga murdered Sadaam, little niggas
For a white man's capital and even galore
This alcohol in my veins
Disturbed and detached
Therapy to my pain
She nonchalantly through my body in from of a train
Disguised the demon
With heavy make-up and Prada pumps
I've scrapped my whole fuckin' life for food
While you niggas ate four-course meals like Donald Trump
The media's cloned-out manufactured
Capitalist's Barbie
Lavish clothes, cars, and shoes
Cover up her insecurities
She finds someone that cared about her
To only sabotage their interaction
Helped him size his neck to his noose
Eventually he was gaspin'
Abandoned me righteously
Because I couldn't afford her heavy price tag
Daddy cloaked Barbie in precious silks
I grew up in cloth and rags
My existense and survival not based on
A bank statement
I don't need hella money to be content
I don't think you get my gist
She could talk about clothes and handbags for hours
Then ridicule me for my politics
You can dress me
And cloak me
Even do my hair and make-up
Boughi niggas with no morals
Uncle Tom bitches existense
Measured by clothes and money
Even the car you drive
Spent over $5,000 on clothes this year
To cover up that weak mind and plastic personality
Hating me for being so different
Me just a poor black nigga
Merely strictly from the hood
While you fuckin' eating proper meals
We eatin' breakfast cereal for dinner
And you wanna say I'm an actor
Because I don't feel the need to
Be a conformist
A material label whore like you
I read things with substance
A little beyond your understanding of Vibe mags and Cosmo
But to you I am a leper
I'm not one of the "cool, normal people"
I guess I couldn't afford your friendship
I wasn't BET minstrel show field nigga enough
I would rather read the truth of the world
Then be enthralled with the latest new Sambo Bamboozle nigga snap dance
Overpublized piece of shit
Manufactured crap slave music on TV
I picked up, through the synthetic bitch in the Pacific
Another Barbie
She said we're so different
The Brit bitch
She said we weren't getting on
She said I could easily be replaced
And then my Barbie was gone.