Tag Archives: Argument

Dynamite Doldrums

heart crackCracks in the ground and nobody gets high
Sleeping with your troubles, its the way lovers lie
Pad, locked my heart so I’m docked at quay side
Wondering if my Indian summer’s with the crop of Teesside
Is it called falling in love if your choice reveals pride
If I’m not proud what am I?

My understanding is an overseer
Is it over, here?
Gut instincts are what I over hear
Cracks in the ground like woven tears
Colourful dreams become monochrome pastures
Moth bitten messages of hope become wounds
Fears like unexploded mines in a crowded room become the music
Shall we dance?

Around subjects like Maypoles we can find new steps
If one foot is out of time and breath, should we stop?
Cracks in the ground for toe stubs and back rubs
The harvest is silence and shoulder shrugs
What are we lying for if they only bed bugs?
A good operating system can be its own anti virus
If the foundations are of stone and papyrus, why aren’t we purple or violet?
All these reports are defiling, weakness is defining, it’s blinding.
Give a partially sighted man a diamond, he’ll still find a way to refine it.
It takes more than shine to find the reason behind the rhyme.
We play uno until that card’s declined

We’ve got to give a joint account of cracks in the ground
If nobody’s getting high where can the fire be found?
Are we blowing smoke just to keep the peace?
Have we had a stroke?
What’s the canvas?
Have we a golden fleece to reflect a value increase?
Is one eye blinkered?
Is transition to a vision that isn’t rose tinted hindering?
Can you hear a storm tinkling,
Will you look it in the eye and wink at it
Is there really joy to be found?
Did you know there’s cracks in the ground?
Ignore them for the sake of the grace in which we are found
If nothing ever changes, potentially we’ll drown
All because we never listened for the cracks in the ground.

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Filed under Relationships

B.A.Nning Order

Still by my skin tone I should have a sports team or a ring tone

Yet for years I was skin and bone because I walked to work unable to afford the bus home

But I am not your broke ass negro

When it comes to relations I’ve been alone

Disowned by my own

Made to feel a sell out because I didn’t buy into narrow minded sing-a-longs

I like chocolate vanilla and cinnamon

But I am not your broke ass negro

The walls are speaking I feel them breathing

My life leaves some grieving about underachievement

I’ve had to patch and weave things to survive and feed me

They snipe and lead me like a big cat to the Zambezi

Try to drown me in comparison, liken me to Audley Harrison

But I am not, your broke ass negro

I am not your broke ass negro I am that brother fighting to live

Not your gym class hero, just a lover dying to give

My equities zero but I’m nouveau riche

Just capitalist minds won’t measure me on the populist list

Yet I seek to better me

Some just want a better me, while others try to feather me

Tickle my ego, stick in the needle be infused with my substance as here we go

Get off on my supply and leave me to die,

A reluctant broke ass negro

If I was broke I’d be dead but my heart is still beating

I’ve taken some beating but this egg will be an omelette when it’s done heating

See along the way I’ve had to go to some wild places and gain some flavours

I’ve had to up my skill level, change some behaviours

I’m aware of my flaws I want to be loved for my plus points

Instead of being derided for being an urban myth, a great man that never wasr

Don’t take this as unsubstantiated moans cause

I’ve learned to be patient but I wont tolerate the

Lack of respect for the struggles I face the, position in my race

In my lane I keep the pace

I’m not working at your favourite pizza place

I’m not sitting on my backside with 4 kids by 3 women playing Xbox

I’m not hustling my number none hit at the train station with the immortal question

Yo blood, do you like hip hop

I respect the hustle and I don’t feel a hero

But I’ve got 2 degrees with the strength to keep knocking on the door of a career so don’t you dare label me a broke ass negro

Don’t say it with your eyes, with your heart, with any of your body language

I want to be able to do more than treat myself to a subway sandwich

See I’ve planned my years around career progression

Avoided holidays like science homework then we’ve hit recession

Hit the rocks of stress but never sunk into depression

So to the guys with relatives who say when folk ask what you do – don’t tell them

To the guys that work hard and don’t get the recognition they deserve I hope you have or find someone that makes you happy and helps you be your best

To the guys that regardless of how hard life hits them they get up strengthened

Hear my expression and adopt or lengthen

I am not your broken negro

You need to mend your ego, give it an abortion

I refuse to be a broken man, I strive for bigger portions

For I AM ME

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Filed under Race

Twitter Inspirations: She Threw The Sky

She threw the sky in his face like a javelin
Piercing his eye she saw his focus unravelling
Knowing her words would kill she knew how to scrabble him
She was on board with her game and her bull ship was travelling
He became so far from sure His logic battled him
His feelings were rattling as anger managed him
His sense of manhood strangled him and left him dangling
Over the precipice of self destruction because this woman man handled him

I was on twitter and saw the title “she threw the sky” on an update by Ladessa Sullivan otherwise known as the poet CandyAcidReign. Honestly I have never paid that much attention to her non poetic talents but the words “she threw the sky” hit me like a silver bullet and formed a poetic verse. I may have to pay more attention now…if you think that I should flesh this verse out into a bigger poem let me know

Check the original video below

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Filed under Art