Poetry: Your Warmth

Just vibin...

Cultivated souls for those who will never know

A silent whisper of "I miss you so", shall never be heard.

I wonder, where do all these lies come from?

I slumber, I dream, I sleep.. my soul, for you to keep,

I love you. But, I hate you.

You left me behind, to uncover all the answers...

none, I find. What are the questions embedded in my mind?

I feel your warmth, you hold me from behind.

I twist, I turn, I take a look,

But no ones there, my body's shook.

I have no time to heal,

Already my body rots in what I feel,

your warmth.

Where did you go?

No longer holding me so...

I told my mother you came to visit me,

she called me a liar, with a slap across the face

I hate her, but I hate you more.

Look at this crime scene that you bore.

Look at the family, that you tore.

But I continue to feel,

your warmth.

But Daddy, I miss you.

And I don't know if I can keep Momma strong,

Cause its been so long since she mentioned your name,

and now I wish to bid farewell but I feel shamed.

I miss you.

I said I'd be okay when you left that frightful day.

But I lied, and I'm sorry, I never meant to cry.

But I miss you.

Is it okay if I call to you before I sleep?

Or is there something more to it, something deep?

I don't know, But I miss you.

And Momma? I'm sure she misses you too.

But right now, neither one of us, knows what to do.

--PS... my father isn't dead. I was just vibin off something I read.

Any comments? Leave em. :]

Poetry: Reminisce

I was feeling really edgy and I felt like writing, so this is what I came up with... several different compounds of poetry.

--Constant reminiscing lies in the past,

I can't see wit the glasses,

the masses over taking all the fascists.

All us colored folk tired of the lashes,

the bashes,

because we're all in different classes,

torn into bashed bits,

just because we're fact less.

But who's to blame?

The famous?

Or us, those with no name?

Tamed by the government blood spilled by the pool,

all them assholes think we're all fools.

But I say, let them, let them think it.

We are worth what they are not.

We have found what they have sought.

And that is brains.

Brains in the leagues that our children will succeed,

that our children will not struggle as we do to feed,

that they shall grow, and make more seeds,

with brains.

So when they ask us, who are we?

We say "I'm that nigga, no questions asked"

And they bash us. Because we will not be defeated.

Because we will not be cheated.

And we will not submit.

I promise you, we are strong, we will never quit.

But they see our fight and they see our might,

so they get tight, because they can't see our sights.

But in the end we will win,

with brains.

Every morning as we board the train, the bus,

the fares a fuss.

We see a face, we lust.

We're hungry, but our pockets' bust.

We borrow money from those we trust.

We forget to pay, they hate, we rush.

We hit the pavement, we run, and we pick up dust

We run too fast, go to far, for too long,

So we are remembered as mistrust.

We forget. Our brains? They rust.

We should leave it to the children,

they're healing our faults.

They are smart, tend to smoke weed,

their visions, clarified,

so now they are no longer hypnotized,

by the powers lies.

I may not fall into these leagues but,

I am a child. I am the future.

And I? I have a brain.

-N.Varela