my verse from state cap's "gotta know" featured on our homepage. one of my favorite verses right now.

they like d
uh uh
6 minutes
your on
but know in
15 minutes
your gone
so really i only
got
9 minutes
to finish
securing my throne
like
nero in rome

i clear my throat:

you see my rap sheets was thick
'fore my rap sheet thickened

even before the trial
i was rapping with conviction

but shit, i'm like com'on -
i'm an english major but the judge gave me a sentence longer than a run on.

maybe 'twas a summon
from someone
to do something
better than getting
my drink and blunt on

fuck it...

i knew i had to carry-on trucking
since i brought it on myself like carry-on luggage

now cleary i can see
i was bound to crack like
marion berry marrying whitney

i gotta take the call
the secretary is busy
this be my ther-apy
and ya'll sharing it with me
is you hearing this shit, b?

This next one comes alllllllll the way from Philly, Steve "Phaze" H.! The man's got some more sick writing on his Myspace blog, so enjoy!

I've wrote various poems with several different topics
Love, lust, broken trust
Obama, my mama & even Osama
Lack of equality, our fucked up democracy
Our gas getting devoured, stuff about religion and also black power
But the one thing I reuse to let myself write about is, well, myself
Not the false persona that's perceived to make you feel me
Naw, what I'm talking about is the real me
The sad, down, depressed, wanna cry, but can't cause I'm too much of a guy me
The always broken, soft spoken, comfortable with being a token me
The masking my real consciousness with false confidence me
The me that my closest friends don't even know
You see, I come off as a co care in the world person whose always humorous
So when around friends, I'm expected to humor us
But numerous time, I'd rather be left alone
They go to the club, I'd rather be left at home
Because the fake smiles hurt my face, they were all manufactured
Cause a few years ago, this man was fractured
And I've never recovered, just sat there in silence and suffered
Life was heading down a perfect path, some how got rerouted
Sad thing is, ain't too many people I can talk to about it
I mean, it's a few mother fuckers I tell this and that
But the one I tell that to, I can't tell this to, and that's my issue
I realize people care, and most are considerate
But revealing how I feel, I won't even consider it
Went from chasing my dreams at my high school locker
To chasing shots after downing top shelf vodka

This is why I don't wanna write no more
Feel like I don't even know what's right no more
Maybe I'm scared to reveal that this world has nothing left
Or could it be I'll realize that I have nothing left
Use to strive for the best, would settle for nothing less
Now I'm caught up in the times of feeling like nothingness
This is why I don't wanna write no more
Who would wanna listen to a person who feels their life's a disaster
A person who sleeps mid-day so tomorrow comes faster
A person who gives advise to others, but doesn't follow it himself
A person who feels life's not worth the wealth, no worth of self
Why would ya'll wanna listen to something that's so pathetic, yet so poetic
So blue and so true
Because we've all been there, down in despair to the point where we no longer care
That place where instead of living it up, we're just giving up
That place we struggle to get out of, but is easy to fall in to
So yeah, I don't wanna write no more, but I feel I have to write some more
Because if I can touch just one person with this poem
Make them realize they're not alone
And make them feel something so real
Because someone finally came at them straight
And said something out loud which they could relate
I would feel accomplished
Make me wanna pick up my pen
And maybe, just maybe, I'd want to write again

Our very own Paloma Belara decides to take a break from her publicity shenanigans and wanted to share this with you, world!

I am tired of competing for the gold medal... I work hard, I play hard, I am dedicated. and just when I think I've scored... it turns out to be a foul play, and not on my part. Today, I lay down to rest my ambition of achieving the ultimate prize, and accept defeat. It's not worth it anymore, to fight for a prize that only exists in day dreams and fleeting moments of adrenaline. And although I could accept a silver or bronze, I'm not the type to settle... My coaches tell me i'm young, and I still have a chance to earn the title I've fought diligently for, it's a nice thought... but not today. I've asked Miss Universe to leave me be... i want the real thing, nothing less.

My first draft, but will re-write. Thought I'd share anyway.


They say we must become
What they want us to be
But what jury judges
To arrest the fate of our spirits

We come earthbound
When do we lose the god inside us
And how do we find it again

Have we been bound since our birth
Inheriting the heaviness of this law
Cuffed by the wrist
Even when try to reach out and
Grab hold of ourselves

So my people move
Move like you are made of wind
Break free like wings taking flight
Towards the sun
Freedom will find you if you let it

we were born with our mouths
gaped open
tears flowing like oceans out
our eyes down our cheeks
it seems
all we hoped to heed was
a note to bleed from
that old freedom song
so swing low sweet cherry coke
and henny
that peace train'll choo-choo on
our track soon
all you need in your backpack is
your boarding pass and a
passion for better days

What's the price to know it
What's the cost to hold it
More precious than gold
Worth a martyr's torment

they don't wanna feel trapped like the claustrophobic
so all the revolutionaries marching for it

since they tryna take ours like Goldilocks did porridge
we avoid the law like "n*gga, I got warrants"

why armies take up arms
and they constantly warring
to spread it round the globe
or they just want they portion

The way George W. often sold it

"we just wanna be free" it's so often quoted

just to be a freemason
or a free lancer
a free man
free agent
free dancer

write
a free
verse free style

free stanza

they screaming
Free Huey!
Free Mumia!
Free the Panthers!

my man asked me
can I be free?
I said if you wanna be -
you don't need an answer.

I'm so lucky. I have the dopest mentee, and she's writing and performing and writing some more! It's been a while since Bonnie and I met at one of the Youthspeaks after school workshops, but I'm honored that she calls me her mentor. Now lookie her! It is with my utmost pleasure to introduce you to my girl, Bonnie, who is holdin it all the way dizzown...!! -Ruby

-letting go-

verbal vibrations from you used to send an instant glow in my eyes
caused my cheeks to feel a lovely pain of smiliness
and a heart that found itself falling

but hurt one too many
it fights to stay a float
fists up and clenched
doesn't want to say hello
to love again
atleast not for now

used to believe that two people could be joined by veins at fingertips
only to find the other set no longer runs through
strugglin to uplift them
maybe i trusted too much
and now they don't wanna leave

wanting to settle for so long
they became rooted here
bringing out a part of me i thought couldn't grow anymore

at one point
this was right
not that now it's wrong
my story with him is just over
and getting over it has been hitting me hard

the longer it's been
the more i can feel us sailing away from each other
but still part of me doesn't wanna let go
hoping that just maybe
one day we'll cross paths on the other side of the globe
and fill in some blank pages

So there's this new mini-mixtape by Nola Darling, and there's this track, "Chat Ms DJ", that had this line that hit me: "They say the suffer because I'm an artist/but I couldn't change if I tried"...it got me to write this---

They say being an artist doesn't make sense
They say we suffer, the eternal dreamers
But we are the ones
Who are brave enough to choose

Passion over pragmatic

To follow what our heart told us
See we do this for the love
Grind past the 9 to 5
Hustle harder than anyone

Cause we believe in this truth

See we want to move you
Make you understand
Why this is worth it all

Even when the checks aren't cutting
And we're pressed for the change
We invest in this movement
Because you can't put a price
On what we gain

And we want to move you
Put you in the mix of our midst
We are the ones who choose
To prove
These dreams are worth
Everything

That this music is necessary

And I promise you,
Soon
You'll see who be

sorry for the background noise and whispering...just got back from the e.badu show, kinda blazed, and managed to record this on my laptop on a fire escape in harlem at 2 in the morning. cut me a break please?

Sometimes I feel like I can't sit still
Like I'm made of wind
Blow
Move
Unseen

I want to reach higher
Than I am
I'm not where I want to be
Just yet

I want to prove
I'm a hero
That my dreams
Are worth something

I am the sort of brilliant
You may not understand
But I am here
Shining with a light

You don't know how to see
But I'll be who I be
Bet it won’t be too long
Until you know

About me

So just a bit ago, Adriel and I visited Newark High to get spoken-word-dummy-wit-it along with some of the dopest youth in the East Bay. But of course, an amazing group of youth is greatly influenced by their teachers, and teachers like iLL-Homie Cathlin Goulding is responsible for encouraging such a respectful, open space for learning. And you best believe she was dope enough to include some crucial discussions such as Black and Asian Conflict in her lessons, calling forth some members of iLL-Literacy- quite possibly your favorite (err, only) black and asian superhero poets. Yadadai! -rvc

The Ballad of John and Yoko

It is a question of white men and their earwax,

my mother tells me in confidence while

my father with his growing paunch

begins to sing

over his frozen

peas:
In the middle of a dream...


My mother listens to the

noises in my blood.

I confess I have seen her:

sloshing through koi ponds

lily pads sticking to her knees

solemnly crumbling oreo cookies while

my father calls out to her:

I have loved the manner in which

rain and pear tree branches interrupt

your face.

I was the one who left her

sitting alone

while taking communion.

I cannot help but follow her through

frozen food aisles

through dried noodles and

pounded rice sleeves.

I see her in fish tanks like a balloon

floating in the darkness.

To be perfectly frank, my mother continues,

it pains me when you use

words like

miscegenation.

No, she whispers:

I never liked that Yoko Ono anyhow.

So I try to finish what my father’s song:

In the middle of a dream,

In the middle of a bath

In the middle of a shave

In the middle of a cloud—

I am calling her name.

because life isn't always easy
and some days feel harder than others
sometimes air feels like sand
settling in your lungs
sometimes you want to heave
the cotton webbing at your throat

and some days feel more hopeless than others
how much more grip
can i have on yself
before i slip
heels in the air
back to concrete

i'm straight trippin

i'm sweatin bullets
and the barrel is smokin
someone must have fired the pistol
cause i feel like runnin
fly or die
like chad and p for the takin

put me on the star track
cause i feel like fleein

do you know
i write cause it hurts
if i didn't it would clot hemorrhages
on my soul
bleed to parchment
pen to paper

because some days hurt more than others
this shit inside
out of control
like flying objects
giving themselves up
handing their power over
to gravity

oh 366, i believe!! there's still a bunch of year left, we can do it...its been a long month for me...sometimes too much happens at once...hopefully we can stay up now...the following posts are some of what i've been writing in the meantime...i hear you dahlak tho, i've only been writin verses too


back to "me"...

i say nigga and 'no homo' more than any of my professors or colleagues would believe

surely, just how often these words take up residence in my slanguage, and just how unproblematic it is for me,
presents an alarming disconnect
between my politics and my action, for some

my choice of words however,
should not be confused with an uncritical survey of
white supremacist capitalist heteronormative patriarchy

most of what i do is intentional
if you don't understand, good...
my niggas do, no homo

NOW
i work from 9-5, teaching...then go to class from 6-9

in class, either class,
i don't say nigga
...or 'no homo'

this may or may not come as a surprise, depending on how well you know me
and this may or may not register as a significant detail about who i am and how i choose to be in the world

but, i assure you
i am performing least when the word nigga is treated as a parenthetical aside for any point i'm trying to make

that is
how i speak,
my slanguage, if you will, is a barometer of how comfortable i am as "me"
when i don't have to think about how "I" appear to some,
i talks how i talk
and just do me
with no guard or wall of irony or feeble attempt at something witty

meaning
i perform, in a sense, from 9am-9pm, then sleep and then perform again
meaning
i am not really "me" ALL of my waking hours

NOW
if i am not me, ALL of the time,
does that make the rest of it actually "me", you know what i mean?
(i mean, i know it all comes from the same place, but one is certainly an intentional performance, i.e. using academicspeak in class, either class)

or does that mean "I" am veritably trapped in a cliche--constantly performing race and intelligence (a performance very related to my performance of race)??

because i don't know if i will ever give this to you


I am a writer
I am a poet

...i never say this
because i never feel this...

But for now,
I am a writer
I am a poet

because right now i don't have anything else to give
nothing more at my disposal
than words...

stupid, anemic, unfairly asked to rise for the occasion
words

i'd like to write you a new body
rewire your genius to not challenge the world
reset your willpower
sober your denial

write you perspective
not your death
but your dying
a tube jettisoned from every hole in your face
breathing for you, living for you

wish i could write something for you to stuff
everywhere

but i don't believe in my writing
my words
because i never truly wanted so much from a word
never asked them to be an alloy for every part of me that loves,
never asked them to be selfless, detached from me
and only for you

you need to know,
beyond seeing you like this will hurt...
this collapses
my mom is collapsing

you checked out of rehab today
said it was too expensive

yesterday,
i had a dream that you gave up
completely
you called aunt vicki--the spirit of our family
said, i can't
she called me

today, we had the same conversation

cousin, i can feel you break at the smile
your hasty reassembling of happy
or normalcy gives me deja vu

for all the minutes, and hours, and days
you surrender to and behind a smile
i can't look at you
or smile back, maybe i never could
and maybe that's what you need more than anything else
a smiling face, someone happy to see you

but
god...damn it...or me
you are politely rotting
in a perpetual state of apology,
when nobody cares about broken glass
or broken promises

i want you to be exactly what you are right now
tired, angry, ugly, confused, spiteful, mournful, marooned, alone
a hot mess
fucked up

because right now you are alone
and you are fucked up
and a bad performer,
and nothings wrong with that

you keep saying,
i would die for any one of you,
i would rather you live

and look for me, smiling on the other side

I got a plan of attack
to have more rack
than one hundred and three broads
who all in double d bras
raw
plus i hustle like a mu'fuckin
d-boy
but never been a d-boy
just d-man
on demand
through the country we tour
groundbreaking like a bunch of b-boys
roll with a crew
who smoke blunts and eat soy
food, tofu,
a chinese brother and a pinoy
but still i be blacker than a brother named leroy
or leon
im eons
ahead
and even when im on the brink of
losing my head
my forehead skins gathers round
and i cling-on
i know i ain't the only trekkie in the house...?
but i could be wrong.
looking at me like
"what the fuck is he on?"
an eighth?
a fifth?
cocaine?
a cid?
I just say this shit...
A SPACESHIP BITCH

but i am not alien
i'm more like elian
i
just want my slice
of the american
pie

i don't know why i already assume
malice of you
you have the kind of almond eyes
to make a mothafucka want to
go nuts
doing donuts in my sanity's
parking lot
i'm spinning circles
and i've only seen you once
got 3 text messages from
you and already i'm thrashing
myself against the walls of my scalp
might not even know your real name
how much of my longing is devoted
to your mystery?
what happens when i hear your voice?
see you eat
walk
move?
when the concept of your existence
meshes with reality and your divinity
is left up to you?
will you live up to it?
can you?
trust, i have a crazy imagination
and i've never been
known as a skeptic
could i lean sideways at night
and not await your call?
will it ever be enough?
watch me wilt within a week
see how hard i can love
without even knowing
beyond hopeless--no,
more like hopeful.

oozing of hope.

allowing a single hollow
interaction to hurl my
head back in the clouds
to the point where it might
hurt to keep writing about it
why i hardly put words to these
anymore
to what? for what?

adriel.
remember this feeling
of not wanting to eat
of waking mid-slumber and
checking for the white glow
of a text notification
the void
not wanting to do anything but
talk to (hear from?) her--
this person whom you've allowed
yourself to believe is the one.
to imagine, reason, convince
yourself of all the reasons she's
perfect this time
the time spent fantasizing how you'd hold each
other
laugh together
argue
make love
even break up
truly
it must be draining to
live through an entire relationship
over and over in your head
you don't even know her--
hardly remember what she looks like
you've allowed yourself to use her as a prompt--
then muse over a character you've developed solely
in your head

via nyc...


it's really not your style. i know that ben's chili half-smoked was kinda delicious and all, but COME ON...papaya dog?? which part of "frank wiener" was enticing enought to make you purchase and gobble down those disgusting rat-sticks? yes, i know you're running on a budget, but i'm sure there are other ways you can save money (i.e. make sure the cab driver last night gave you your $12 change instead of taking the $2 and bouncing out, not spending $30 on socks). the possibilities are endless. btw, weren't you vegetarian, like, last year? step your game up, adriel. i know you're hella skinny...but if you continue this sausage binge by august they're going to be hauling your greasy ass back to cali on a forklift.


ps: i hate that we're a month behind on this. something really needs to be done.

dude..has this blog been completely abandoned? how bootsy of us. we'll have to drop a mixtape this year to make up for it.

anyway, here's the lyrics to my diddly for the 247townhall campaign. video will be up soon.


they're saying that the climate's changing
and i don't just mean that the sky is changing
i mean that this guy is change...
or just disguised as change
and i can't describe this sensation
cuz i live in oakland and the crime ain't changing
they're saying it takes time just be patient
i'm like, all right, i'll wait
but at times i'll just make believe
what would happen if i were president
would would happen if when i was in kindergarten the teacher said
i could be president
except she really meant it then
cuz really, in the 80's i couldn't make sense of it
in the 90's i learned i had a bit too much melanin
and nowadays, like they're gonna trust a chinese guy
to protect them from terrorists

anyway
if i were president
the sky would be the limit but
but in the real world
the sky is limited
the ozone's all broken
like the sky is limpin
and we can't go outdoors
to sigh's a detriment
the city's so shitty the kiddies can't live in them, cuz
THAT AIR IS POISONNNNNNNNN
like bel biv and them

the bugs taking over
my kitchen's covered with cinnamon
the government's taking over
their hearts are filled up with sin in 'em
yeah, that's a synonym
like how jail is to prison
and bail is to dividends
hell's to this system
so instead of hailing this system
to hell with this system
there's hella frustration that for eons the office been beyond the peoples' grip
but now hold on oh shit
now we've got o-bama
the polls say asian folks won't bother
to vote a brother
but i sho' wonder exactly who the surveys are serving
i sense sly foxes who smile, watching
the crabs in the crate pull each other down bottom
but i seen with my eyes how tides are swapping
now the crabs is bout rock the boat, no lobster
now the masses bout to vote the how proper
obama changed the tyrant's terrain, oh bummer
so yeah, barack for president
and if i were president
i'd apply some sense in it
give fema a subpeona
and find where the levees went
show who wears the levis in this whitehouse
and rebuild the tenements
give dues to the immigrants
and ship off the ignorant
afghanistan, iraq, iran...yeah, there's a difference
north korea, china, japan...yeah, there's a difference
bush, bush, goose, mccain, yeah, get rid of em
you don't call me a gook and say sorry for the election
you don't spit on martin's grave site and say sorry for election
you don't stand against gay rights, you and your sorry ass election
now you ain't taking office, i feel sorry for your election

they're saying that the climate is changing
which really means it's time for some changing
so what would i really do if i were president?
i'd put everybody else on the ballot and let the people represent.

she's the one that convinced me that elephants could swim
i didn't believe it before
how these huge clumsy animals could stay afloat
legs like petrified tree trunks
she showed me though
took me deep into the jungle one wednesday after work
jelly donuts in our bellies and our work clothes muddy
we found the lake where the herd reunited each week
"see," she whispered in my ear, "like whales with floppy ears."

each wednesday became a sort of a tradition
in the mornings we sent memos and refilled printer cartridges
attended meetings and crossed out lines on agendas
as soon as the sun hid behind the buildings we were off
cold grass clawing at our bare feet as we vanished into the trees
it is there that i saw the world as it is
a realm where possibility prevails.



she left me this past wednesday
left me waiting at the gas station and never came back
these elephants don't swim when she's not around
some sink, but most just steer clear of the water altogether
i've tried to tell people but no one believes me
i don't know, it's only been one week
maybe it was an off day
but she's not coming back
and i don't know if they'd ever swim for just me

The hipsters are taking over my neighborhood. I seen them today. About two blocks down from the crackhouse across the street. Last night while watching Boondocks, Khalil and I overheard a crackfiend giving someone a blowjob outside. This morning a parade of skinny jeans and cigarettes. Simean Mobile Disco on full blast while I drive past.

***

While I'm waiting in line at Whole Foods to buy my kombucha, I have an oh shit moment. Have I convinced myself that a two-year head start and a dash of melanin makes me so much different from these people? Immediately upon moving into Oakland in '06 I claimed it like my birthright. The town has a way of doing that to you--it's why the Raiders haven't left yet. You never stop repping for something you're still waiting to be validated by.

***

Fucking hipsters. Probably a bunch of arrogant post-graduate writers who feel all special because they work non-profit, but really waste up all their time staying up late at night blogging on their websites.

***

I don't care which holiday it is, I don't think it's safe to set off tiny explosions in a city that is known for reactionary gun violence.

Soooo...I'm writings galore lately. Here's a new song in progress that I started in Chicago, then dabbled in today and yesterday...iLL-literates, if you have any ideas, holla

This is Captain Ruby Bright 3 Zillion of spacecraft 1914ZX0ILL. Planet, do you read me? I am preparing for emergency takeoff, do you read? Planet Earth is destructive beyond repair- I must evacuate immediately. Mothership connect. What is the asteroid prognosis? Requesting assistance, over. Beam me up, I repeat, beam me up now!

Put me aboard on the spaceship
Beam me up,
Beam me up
Let the spacecraft rip
The sky is falling
No time for stalling
Get me out of here quick

Shake em up
Shake em up
The walls- a crumbling down
Shake em up
Shake em up
Fire wanna swallow the town
Maybe the tides gone angry
Wanna make em all drown


So beam me up
Beam me up
Beam me up now
Take me away
Before this joint blows down
Take me away
After I say peace to Oak-town


Somebody fill up the barrel
Cock the gun
They cracked the sky open
Someones stole the sun
Say me a prayer
Cause theres nowhere to run
I’ll close my eyes here
Wake me when the war is done
I dont know what’s going on
But get me outta here
The horizon wants to bleed forgiveness
But the sun is missing

Shake em up
Shake em up
The walls- a crumbling down
Shake em up
Shake em up
Fire wanna swallow the town
Maybe the tide’s gone angry
Wanna make em all drown

So who's coming with me, huh?
Who wants a piece of the action?
I know it sounds crazy but...

this shit right here...

it's like crack in the streets right now
i mean, it's even better!
you can't even have the crack in the streets
without it.

it'll be like selling air
no better.
it'll be like stealing air
from people who are selling air
and selling it to the people for a lower price.
we giving back to the community and shit

like some robin hoods
hooded up
robbing the suburbs.
looking for signs of excess gas supply
like freshly mowed lawns.
looking for gas tanks that still open from the outside.

all we need is a gas-sucking-vacuum kinda thing
and we're set.

we meet around 2, 3 o'clock
with our little gas guzzler
let's call it the hand held hummer.

yeah that's it.

and we'll drive ar-
no.
we'll walk around
searching every sidewalk
every driveway
waiting to find any car
suv, van, truck, tank
with a tank
vulnerable for the taking
thank them for not believing
a muthafucka would get that desperate
to do some shit like this.
just a little bit tho.
from a lot of people.

but that not's it.
we start up a fucking market.
craigslist, ebay, my momma's garage
i don't give a fuck
we could move this shit by the ton.

$1.25 for gas!
$1.10!
m'fuckas'll think they died and went to the nineties
they'll buy the regular shit
get robbed and buy our shit
just to feel like the gas pump ain't going up they're ass
everytime they get a full tank
we shouldn't feel like we just got raped.

you see, the E still stands for empty
but the F is starting to stand for funds diminished.
or simply FUUUUUUUUCK.

yeah yeah i know you wanna talk we stealing shit and all
but listen
someone gotta give big business some competition
besides arco and costco
the atm fee will give them back the .45 cents they saved you.

i'm talking about real change
to put the change back in our pocket.

i mean, what if we organized on some oceans 12
did it all in one night
we'll have enough supply to hurt they sales.
for a week.
but fuck it.
give them hell.
make shell feel the burn.
chevron ain't losing money.
the owners of 76 ain't foreclosing on they home.
ain't waiting for the economy to pick up
picking up unmployment checks.

i'm just sick of feeling like a victim
of wondering if the bully gon' take my lunch money today
lets fight.
lets fight and lose
but lets say we tried

my patience is on empty
my life on the line
i'm exhausted
pipe smoking
hoping for the right night.

so who's coming with me?
whooooooo's coming with me????

Lying in my bed, I thought of how frequently the question "Is Hip-Hop Dead?" has been asked amongst hip-hoppers since Nas' latest release. I've realized my answer.

hip-hop isn't dead.
it's dying. like everything
else that is alive.

Take me somewhere
Far away from here
Lately being American
Feels stifling

I think maybe I'm spoiled
Have already seen what I've wanted
From this country
I'm so ready to

Leap across ponds
Cross borders
Live someone else's law
Test if my vibration is altered elsewhere

I'm trapped inside my short memory
Of London
Wonder if the next time
Will be just as sweet as the first

Order me a Boeing
Summon my jet
And since I breathe art
You know I deserve an air-craft

Take me on the iLL-avator Airline
Flight Upwards
Cause right now I be Pharrel-Like
Fly or die (ok its not that serious)

But I am starting to see sounds
Like the tube zooming past
Me minding the gap
The cars zooming on opposite road-sides

I've gotta get out of here
Soon enough I say
Bump Estelle non-stop
Youtubin MIA all night

There's something in London
I've got to experience
And plus,
My accent's pretty decent

Take me somewhere far away already
Please?

I love when you touch
Me/my whole body flutters
Like wings in expanse

how'm i gonna act like i can mend your wings
your fly is that sort of broken
you can't imagine otherwise
like stained glass
like patches
and other things that come in so many colors
blue i be when you don't call but
golden i see when you flutter past and
circles i spin trying to grasp just how
you came around that first time when
it was supposed to be a new season
i swear leaves are supposed to be falling
not me

I. words to remember:

Love it.



II. questions i don't have the answers to...

most, but most immediately:

-does google inspire or preclude curiosity??
-what is disodium inosinate and why is it in my food??
-what are my ethics (poethics)??
-is it self-indulgent to use my art as a political platform??
-why am i so concerned with making the world a better place??
-if everybody goes at the same time, how much do i really care?? why??
-why am i so concerned with legacy??
-why do i constantly historicize the moment??
-will there be any moments left??
-what is a moment if i am not living it, and does recognizing it, always move me to the next??

i can go dark...
really dark
it scares me

i can't allow myself to falter
may not be able to pick myself up from alcoholism...
if i fall into my family past

i am not productive
as depressed
can't organize myself distracted
like some

i sit
and i sit

unspooling,
threadbare, and trapped in cliche...

focusing on corners, and corners
two sharp edges meeting at one point--
makes the world standstill, lets gravity take hold

and i think
i could enjoy it,
failing as a person,
insulating myself in despair
is easier than railing against a world that constantly disappoints,
is uncompromisingly self-centered (whether or not self-opposed)
and i could like that,

its like armor,
maybe texture for a personality i am losing
or never had
...it scares me

i can think myself
into
corners
i can think myself
couch ridden

fetaled by knowing there is more day left,
life that can still be lived in these moments
and the choice is my own...
extending myself is not
uncomfortable or frightening
just another body length of questions why...and how
that i am too lonely to seek answers for

this story begins in the middle
torso untamed
temptation to blame,
but accusing paris sounds a bit more
artistic
i was born to a kingdom not much unlike yours
it's not like my parents were poets
or aunties were authors
but my blood bled words
and i don't mean it in the poetic sense
literally
blood AB like basic rhyme patterns
but i digress

one ear ring steelo
i blame it on lost love from
a half year ago
but you smelled nice
and looked beautiful
and bass from the speakers move hips
sinfully
we metroed back to gambetta
and love
we loved in the way that makes one
want to fry omelets at 3am

so we were born of different kingdoms
not much unlike each other
but i guess
the atlantic ocean never seemed so far
until i started buying phone cards
and receiving calls in my sleep
during your evenings
you seep into my memory at times even today

i'm sorry
i should probably be more responsible with
my poetry
or web presence
or personal experiences
but memories play sequences during those hours
when my eyelids try to stay closed
but i dream about lovers i wish would stay close
and perhaps it's true
i've made a mistress of my music
no stress of having to prove it
just lay fingers to keys and tongue to vocals
my love has become this string of melodies pulled through
my last 3 years
but know
i did love you then
so much
remnants remain in the dark hours of some nights
when memories pulsate from my pores
and your face is presented on the silver platter
of nostalgia

i'm sorry
but i appreciate you
for helping me
live this.