Quiet Poetry Lounge : Words Thought Inward

Discussion in 'Black Poetry - Get Your Flow On!' started by lilcherry76, Apr 4, 2005.

  1. lilcherry76

    lilcherry76 Well-Known Member MEMBER

    Mar 17, 2003
    Likes Received:
    17, 11th grade at GPHS
    Houston, Texas
    Who knew that smoke,
    Would make the dead choke.
    And casual cotton,
    Turn the innocent guilty rotten.
    Turn around time,
    In ones own mind.
    Topsy turvey,
    Body all swurvey.
    No approach is correct,
    To be guilty I object.
    Mad eyes undress me,
    Inmates manipulatively caress me.
    Cries heard for miles,
    Only causes smiles.
    Spirit broken in so many pieces,
    That hearts can’t bear to believe it.
    Or receive it,
    They only shake their head and at that—leave it.
    No lump sum of money makes me wealthy,
    And no rich man’s cure—can make me healthy.
    Only God can clean the stain,
    That I know exists—but never claim.
    It’s the ecstasy,
    In my own philosophy.
    That’s made me mediocre,
    Uplifted high—but still black Mr. Roker.
    Bound by the invisible chains that,
    Paint me black.
    White in a sense,
    But to human eyes—that race is dense.
    So why give any recompense,
    Like a color—15 days is all I get for a rinse.
    Rung dry to a T,
    By alls animosity.
    And you figure it’s because of pain,
    No—no—never that—only of selfish gains.
    That took me back to the person,
    I thought was well—but found out worsened.
    And the light behind the curtain,
    Has left me hurtin’.
    Glass too dirty to see through,
    Red perceived as baby blue.
    Oh how cute,
    You look in your dirty suit.
    Not my fault—but always is,
    Counted grown from being a little kid.
    What I ever did,
    Who knows—I just lived.
    And lines given meaning,
    Is thought to be misleading.
    To the bystanders in white,
    I’m black and both-but you say what you like.
    When the wind blows away the guilt,
    From eyes and minds of filth.
    Then does the rose no longer wilt,
    But becomes smooth like silk.
    The dreams of the gum,
    Stuck on shoes of everyone.
    Is to be moved from one state of being hidden,
    To be showed life of a different sort—that needs liven.
    Grass no longer greener on the other side,
    But flush colored because of pride.
    Holla my sister,
    Who caused your blister?
    Me once again,
    Now I’m a foe—not a friend.
    Nope—I’m just an ordinary person taken chances,
    Looking at life from different stances.
    No stance is correct,
    To be perfect I object.
    For then nothing is left,
    But conceited/convinced concepts.
    Desired beyond all reasonable doubts,
    No position is comfortable on life’s spring sprung couch.
    Yet no pain is let out,
    For no longer do we speak through mouths.
    Because the hand taps away,
    What the mouth wishes to say.
    Causing barfs to become dainty,
    And the defendant the plaintiff.
    Opposite of regular,
    Too busy to hold a manicure.
    But who’s to say that the wall,
    Has to stand tall.
    Why not just fall,
    Because in the midst of creatures small.
    It binds no ones body,
    Nor thoughts sown naughty.
    Just looking at the clock,
    Because that’s all I can do—watch.
    Humph life’s got a great population,
    Searching for self-salvation.
    But the numbers of truth is so few,
    That it boils down to the unknew.
    So caught up in the moment of the NWO,
    And the crowds cheers with thrown blows.
    That the light once lit,
    Has been extinguished with spit.
    Remembering that the past,
    Will soon clash.
    With the present moving streets,
    Where the homeless takes their feast.
    Lint clinging to which is good,
    Body parts making a monopoly in the hood.
    Squares no longer having 6 faces,
    So it’s not a square just a frame in the makin’.
    Giving everything—everything I got,
    Still not claiming what I know—but pretend to know not.
    Lines too big to fit in a bubble,
    For it would only turn the mind to rubble.
    And lyrics too blown to publish,
    For to do so—I would hear it’s rubbish.
    Clean as peach on a summers afternoon,
    Winding down—to soar to the moon.
    Only dreams,
    Just like I knew—I see your teeth gleam.
    Trapped like a feather in the wind,
    Wondering when I’ll descend.
    Work-based learning,
    From the governments salary earning.
    Questions undeniably,
    As the loud now sit quietly.
    Holla my brotha,
    Who snapped on you a muzzle?
    Me once more,
    What do I try to satisfy for?
    The anatomy of Adam,
    I grasp your feeling—but I don’t want to grab ‘em.
    Just slide through my fingers,
    I don’t want your trapped words to linger.
    I speak—for I’m no singer,
    Or politically correct phone ringer.
    Nope—I’m just an ordinary person taken risks,
    Never knowing if the same words I speak—will cut my wrists.
    The whole concept of this,
    Is to enlist.
    Not in the service but in the human race,
    You don’t have to be side by side or face to face.
    Just step in tune with the sax,
    And behold the facts.
    Car washes put down your turtle wax,
    And shoulders with chips sitting on top—relax.
    Let the tree be moved,
    And the insecure be rude.
    For no one is the same,
    One falters—now all is to blame.
    My what a shame,
    That anatomy made us checkers in God’s game.
    And now time is laughing,
    Because we won’t be lasting.
    No more—no more satisfaction,
    View my whiplashes.
    Pie chart or table,
    All are able.
    To yawn without covering,
    And fly without hovering.
    So are we angels fallen short,
    Don’t answer back so retort.
    Or give life up—as to abort,
    Pull your burdens in like a ship into a port.
    One day famous are you sure,
    Is it because this scribe is pure?
    No it’s not—it’s just written fairly,
    And told personally—not quite barely.
    One minute hypothetically is one minute in thought,
    A root dug up—is a flower naught.
    Stated in colloquialism,
    But everything is still understood and given.
    Winds picking up—truth and lies have clashed and rose,
    Ain’t nothing new but this ain’t nothing new—everyday is the same ol’ same ol’….
  2. PurpleMoons

    PurpleMoons Administrator STAFF

    United States
    Apr 22, 2003
    Likes Received:
    :great: :jumping: :jumping:

    That is an awesome work of Art!
    Loved it!!!!!!!!
  3. $$RICH$$

    $$RICH$$ Lyon King Admin. STAFF

    United States
    Mar 21, 2001
    Likes Received:
    BUSINESS owner
    this was mad tyte wow!
    u out did your self on this one
    super flow ...........................
  4. Nisa

    Nisa Well-Known Member MEMBER

    Jul 25, 2004
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    wowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww :bowdown: :bowdown: beautiful..beautiful...incredible piece
  5. lilcherry76

    lilcherry76 Well-Known Member MEMBER

    Mar 17, 2003
    Likes Received:
    17, 11th grade at GPHS
    Houston, Texas
    thank you all, i know its been a while, so i decided to make a sort of long comeback, this one has a part II called Thought Better........once again thank you and peace.................
  6. watzinaname

    watzinaname Well-Known Member MEMBER

    United States
    Oct 4, 2003
    Likes Received:
    So many different levels of thought processes going on in this piece. Must have taken a while to structure it, at least it seems that way to me. Just a note to say I'm diggin the vibe in your flow.
  7. gempis

    gempis Well-Known Member MEMBER

    May 5, 2003
    Likes Received:
    strength coach
    Seattle, WA
    Girl! When I saw you'd posted I was excited, cause I have missed your work. but you really outdone yourself on this one!!! Amazing, amazing flow. You should be proud of yourself. :welldone: