Observational

The trouble with knowing...


I wonder what she's thinking  
whilst she pretends to watch T.V  
  
She's sat on that same spot    
on the same sofa for more years  
than I care to remember  
gradually not caring about  
the seven long hairs that grow    
from her chin or the stains    
all over her clothing from  
last weeks dinner  
  
She sips her cider  
  
I watch  
  
She sips  
  
I ask: "where is he?"  
  
"He's in bed." She answers,  
not removing her eyes from  
the commercials.  
"Pour me another, will you?  
and open the window"  
  
She is almost robotic.  
  
I can see past the piss stained  
mess that has become her  
well enough to know she  
is scared as hell.  
  
I open the window    
The breeze bounces past my cheeks  
 
"He can't open the windows  
anymore" she whispered-
"He can't do anything"

Whim of Nostalgia

In a dusty attic she sat
Everything so dim and alone
Pretty much like herself.

Cracks adorned her face
Yet her youth was ever present
She looked just like she did 105 years ago.

Her dress made of soft silk
Flaxen locks beneath her bonnet hat
Beauty was rarely forever she was lucky.

Her porcelain family suffered quite damage
Her sisters were either headless or limbless
As for her she remains waiting for her master's return.

Oh wow, I didn't expect so many responses! These are all amazing so far, going to be really tough to choose..

          http://wordbiscuit.com/images/tunacan.jpg

    < new dispose-all, not what it's cracked up to be >
     

           takes forever on the tuna-fish cans
     

                       - - -

Caged... like a three legged pig

Do not seek refuge in the places that I do,
Such places would do you no good.
This is all around me, It follows me there.
I am told it is not necessary to fear one's own kind,
Tell me, Do you?

Only animals, Broken in spirit,
Soil the place they eat and sleep,
I walk through your steel jungle,
I can not stand the stench of your filth,
The same filth that tars my lung, stains my teeth.

Do you feel free?
Do you feel like a once proud beast,
One tied, Drugged and placed in captivity.
You sleep in your own excrement.

I walk aimlessly, unburdened by map,
I walk amongst all this I can not escape.
I capture it on film,
Each morning, trying to seek beauty in this cage,

Still, It keeps me awake,
The spoken words, The sound of machines,
The hum of neon - Like a thousand flies,
Swarming around all this decay.
For me, No escape.

Do not seek refuge in the places I do,  Such places would do you no good.

View

Sometimes I ask God why is life so hard?
So I could appreciate it more
So I could celebrate it more
Sometimes I be like I can't take it anymore
This obstacle we call life
So little joy and so much pain and strife
You want proof just look at the news
Hours and hours of televised blues
A person like me though prefer to be private
Deny public access to my own little island
That's the way shit have to be
Because people can be trifling it just comes naturally
Hatred grows like weeds and trees
Porn flicks teach kids about the birds and the bees
My first experience made me ill at ease
While the person forced me down on my knees
While I was down there I should've prayed to win the lottery
So I can have amnesia of living a life of poverty
Hakuna-mattata the problem free philosophy
Doesn't seem to work for me I guess because probably
My skin is chocolate my soul is mahogany
Closed minded thinking the cause for inequality
Well enough about the world shift the focus back to me
My views go beyond what the average person can see
I've witnessed the drama and the technicalities
And lived the realness I could tell fake from reality
As hard as life is it opened my eyes
I used to walk around blinded by lies
My eyes opened wide I almost could've died
The grass looked greener on the other side
So I cried

who does not be charm by heartwrench-romance?
of crossed-lovers amid jealous villains
as audience will take protagonist stance
love-obstructor evokes jeer in millions

injured love birds struggles to find, to fly
seperated one, halves seeks wholly be
tangled amid tall weeds obstructing flight
doleful hearts wishes for them complete, freed

yet off-screen reenact, crowds disbelieve
skeptics of love so pure or jealousy?
some be evil let tall weeds dwell uncleave
though spotlight unto, their love unblemished

 unyielding tears flows free staged phantasy
 parched eyes villains sneers off-screen fantasy

fox mouth
french lipstick
read the parable--
to assasinate a cat
wear sweltering costume
even on dog days
plus, hang a flat penis
on the neck
formula for legit sound

curly headpiece
father of the house
holds a hammer for a metaphor--
authority in town!
completion for the stage
of a fair playdate

twisty wordplay
dressing of clown
entertains the crowd
round and round
the sheeps mehhhhhhh
and JUSTICE for all

ikardan

land of contrived realities
decayed culture
cracked facade
starving from excess
more for less
more or less
what defines who you are
lost identities
recycled values
to fit the moment
less is more
more is less
land of fiat dreams
unstitched seams
of the societal fabric
chasing the gold
less or more
more or less

Stylish

Style is timeless
Ageless and transcending
Not for the spineless
Courageous, trendsetting
Followers not allowed
Leaders of the new school
Subtlety can be loud
Classic can be cool
From retro to vintage
Legendary divas
Glasses that are tinted
Behind them a fashionista
Thick and thin
Plus size to slim
From Vogue magazine
To thrift store queens
Chasing sales
Or if you choose
To pay full retail
For a pair of shoes
Haute couture
Avant garde
Eye candy allure
On the boulevard
On the avenues
The sidewalk is the catwalk
Breaking the rules
Go talk that talk
The right to feel fabulous
To inspire others
To do the same as much
And show their true colors
Like a chameleon
Remain versatile
Find your center, your medium
Your own sense of style

ThE HaRdeR SiDe oF pOetRy..

some write to entertain    
some write to gain praise    
some write due to passion    
...of what flows through their veins    
some write to be funny    
some write to ease their pain    
 
in truth    
i write for each line written    
and its amazing to be tapped into this brain    
 
funny.. i failed to mention    
..'some write to make money'    
though i love to get paid    
but to write toward the goal of receiving funds    
my arrogance steps in the way..    
 
i've been told..    
..'you have to write for this and that specific group'    
..'and sound like that and this'    
 
in my mind i'm like.. 'fuck that'    
True Gritt Entertainment is what i represent    
 
if they can't dig what im spittin    
than each and eerone of them SOB's can fall the fuck back    
 
aint no cut in my mix    
i play soft paws when i write my kiddy books    
but i pleasure myself entertaining Grown ass Women and Men    

produce every line with a straight face    
can do so because I in i know no lie    
i pay attention within every dimension i write    
to sell out my pen for a little or a lot of change    
simply isn't the actions from one of my cut of cloth    
 
every moment of my existence i ask Father to direct my feet    
i speak truths as i Understand them    
i will not appease another for mere pay or praise    
when in truth they and i don't agree    
 
but who am i?.. but a writer.. poet.. son of Most High..    
..Husband and Father..    
in a world where Principles are squandered..    
for the ole mighty dollar..    
 
yea.. i make pieces like, 'put on this collar bitch'    
and can do so..    
because i know the inner workings of the mind of a pimp..    
its REALITY.. but i'm steady being told..    
..'you shouldn't offend she and he if you want your books to be sold'..    
 
..then there goes arrogant me..'give a fuck! this shii is dope'    
my advise is to pop a few of my pieces in your vein..    
it'll help up your game and just may catch yo ass a nice coast..    
 
im a host of entertainment.. as the heart of every writer is..    
 
some choose to write on the safe side.. not offend.. pick a crowd and adjust their writings to them..    
im like, 'fuck it.. ima do me till im dead and gone.. plant my seeds because we as writers/entertainers are in a tightly controlled industry..    
 
..thanks to big money and a dumbed down public..    
 
..it may seem feeble on our attempts.. but long will live the written subject..      
 
..Father let not money. praise and popularity control me..    
 
..i appreciate it over here in the shadows..    
 
..this harder side of poetry..    
 
 
8^/ Daddy's lil Souljah..

SunShiNe & sHaDowS...


raised game tight
can barely tell the difference of what's wrong or right
know plenty who do wrong but say they on God's side
know some very mean men who i neva seen tell a lie
i think my Daddy be dead wrong dealin wit ladies of the night

he say each and all have a choice
and there are many different games to play
on one side of the fence the sun don't shine
and things go down in a shady way
on the other side the sun shines and glare
i must admit... things are pretty over there
most people play square
and live life by different rules
its a different life than i care to choose
but whateva side you decide to walk on
life is all about Principles

you been raised on Code son
Love Life and to it be Loyal
Know what ur doin
become Wise to what you know
than you may Understand whether in sunshine or shadows..

8^/ lil Peppz...

perfect when silent


my eyes scour her every atom
marveling at her molecular magnificence
I watch her moving
(unnecessary movements)
like bored air
squeezing in impossible gaps

she undresses herself with ease
and dresses me in awe

she wants to tell me nothings; a routine
of how she believes it should be

I tell her words are like mortal rain and
her skin is eternal poetry

she mounts me like a loving whore
and destroys me like a bomb
I now drip down these deafened walls
and she soaks me back up for again

she's relentless in her activities;
hours compliment her flawless pigments
I'd be a fool to stop this art, but
I'm running low on guts

I'll never love her, never could
perhaps because my mother
never showed me what love was

I'll never tame perfection, or
forget how perfection tastes

I go to her often when all thoughts have sunk

I'll never remember her words
but her bones have grown, in the ridges of my skull