for all the brothas here at Destee who defiantly fight with the pen
you flow like waters, reinvigorating dehydrated mental stations with your cooling effect,
you blaze like aurora bursts, resurrecting daybreak to post-midnight contemplations,
you shine, Dashikied diamonds in the rough, manipulating words with your transfixing glow,
and you know…yeah, you know…
it’s in the way your words glide across the page,
the way your verbs stride into metaphoric plains
causing nouns to stop and act accordingly,
your prowess, taking human pain
rephrasing and adlibbing
ultimately creating singsongs of emotion, that leap off the page,
your rage, a soliloquy of our peoples plight
struggle embodied in your poetic force,
you are the voice of the future
the voice of life, thriving, surviving, refuse to accept vainly dying,
striving to be the epitome
of the black man/poetic/intelligent/strong/benefactor
of the greatest creativity
when you love, you elevate it to a whole different state,
a higher plane where mind, body, heart, soul….and pen constantly remain
combined, intertwined, locked in a continuous stream,
all determined to accommodate endlessly for the black Queen,
diligently, you intently devise a plan, so that you can be the man
she deserves, has searched for, has needed for so many years,
you are one of
a chosen few
who recognize
our greatest needs,
and your soul won’t let you rest until
in your words, you’ve expressed these….
he sits, eating a let meal,
at a diner around the way,
he consumes his food, mind casually explore
the stresses of the day,
then, suddenly he sees,
mother (and child)
outside
(they beg for bread)
from deep within
compassion
rage (they are being ignored)
sorrow
guilt (why is he so blessed?)
these thoughts ring in his head….
and so he writes,
cause this is his escape
from a world so cruel
with tragic fates
like forced to beg before you’ve had
the chance to live
and so he writes,
cause this helps him cope
with a world to content
on its will to break,
so many forced to take what they get
while a minority can greedily get what they take
and so he writes,
because its in his blood,
flowing, growing,
he writes, because he wants to,
he writes, because he can,
he writes, because for him to survive
this is what it takes….
and this is dedicated to all of you out there, pen ready,
who can relate
keep scribin’
you flow like waters, reinvigorating dehydrated mental stations with your cooling effect,
you blaze like aurora bursts, resurrecting daybreak to post-midnight contemplations,
you shine, Dashikied diamonds in the rough, manipulating words with your transfixing glow,
and you know…yeah, you know…
it’s in the way your words glide across the page,
the way your verbs stride into metaphoric plains
causing nouns to stop and act accordingly,
your prowess, taking human pain
rephrasing and adlibbing
ultimately creating singsongs of emotion, that leap off the page,
your rage, a soliloquy of our peoples plight
struggle embodied in your poetic force,
you are the voice of the future
the voice of life, thriving, surviving, refuse to accept vainly dying,
striving to be the epitome
of the black man/poetic/intelligent/strong/benefactor
of the greatest creativity
when you love, you elevate it to a whole different state,
a higher plane where mind, body, heart, soul….and pen constantly remain
combined, intertwined, locked in a continuous stream,
all determined to accommodate endlessly for the black Queen,
diligently, you intently devise a plan, so that you can be the man
she deserves, has searched for, has needed for so many years,
you are one of
a chosen few
who recognize
our greatest needs,
and your soul won’t let you rest until
in your words, you’ve expressed these….
he sits, eating a let meal,
at a diner around the way,
he consumes his food, mind casually explore
the stresses of the day,
then, suddenly he sees,
mother (and child)
outside
(they beg for bread)
from deep within
compassion
rage (they are being ignored)
sorrow
guilt (why is he so blessed?)
these thoughts ring in his head….
and so he writes,
cause this is his escape
from a world so cruel
with tragic fates
like forced to beg before you’ve had
the chance to live
and so he writes,
cause this helps him cope
with a world to content
on its will to break,
so many forced to take what they get
while a minority can greedily get what they take
and so he writes,
because its in his blood,
flowing, growing,
he writes, because he wants to,
he writes, because he can,
he writes, because for him to survive
this is what it takes….
and this is dedicated to all of you out there, pen ready,
who can relate
keep scribin’