Tag Archives: broken

Unwanted

Sometimes….I feel 

Like a rudderless child
Sometimes….I feel
Like a rudder less child
Sometimes….I feel
Like a fatherless child
A lone stranger
An embryo

Liquid flames cased in power puff names
Pains engaged to a hair trigger guage
Distorted inceptions and schools of disdain
Encumber my soul with melodic chill blains
I’m lost in ill gains, strapped to real frames
My electric lion flow has been tamed
Trying not to settle, my earth has been maimed
Dying to be a tribute act though I lit my own fame
Scarred with in sense, I stink out the game
My knowledge they deem is too out there for in-game
My mettle’s twisted so I touch my in sane
My pane is transparent and I’m the heir apparent
I’m all gassed up as his history I parrot
I’d snap the neck of every clock for every time I wanna garrot
A strap line that entwines my heart to this brand cos

Sometimes….I feel
Like a rudderless child
Sometimes….I feel
Like a rudder less child
Sometimes….I feel
Like a fatherless child
A lone stranger
An embryo

A rodent on the wheel of fortune, running
Sporting a back pack of rations gunning
chasing the mirror till it falls off bloodied
To applause and jeers of is that all he studied
chased the pack catching all the nuts n ruts
he swivelled the inflection yet the echo stayed put
he, broke his back to heal men when hell was afoot
yet sparing no change he felt only rifle butts
Bayonets to the gut, enoch’s rivers were his blood
speech, so flowing were his veins
You were nothing but hanging mucus when needed
nothing but a bane so

Sometimes….I feel
Like a rudderless child
Sometimes….I feel
Like a rudder less child
Sometimes….I feel
Like a fatherless child
A lone stranger
An embryo

Ineffectual vibrations preach wisdom to holed walls
Disrespect migrates, generational roll calls
Keep picking up the phone hoping my garden grows balls
Bog hands noting the viscosity of snow fall
Naked can I handle when the stalactites fall
I’ve got a mouth of stalagmites but no choir on which to call
They’ve got no room for my range I’m just a car left to stall
My bairns bereft of heart set to crawl
Supposed grab life that ain’t even a trip for me to fall
So I scribe symbols in the dirt, scriptures for you all
cos

Sometimes….I feel
Like a rudderless child
Sometimes….I feel
Like a rudder less child

Sometimes….I feel
Like a fatherless child
A lone stranger

A vogue stranger
A known angel
Unwanted

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Filed under Just Living

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

in his mind

His lines like intricate splashes of colour, spill on to the page like tears rolling down the mountain face

Gathering momentum as they descend because he is well grounded and his salt flavours his earth

Striving to be the salt that flavours rather than the dirt grounded by hurt

His lines monetize time hoping he’ll profit from faith in hard work

Flowing like blood around the body of truth, growing in spirit in spurts

Painting pictures of perennial punch endurance his heart is not opaque

His lines mean his audacity of hope was a slow bake but he was and still is on the rise

See in his lines, his heart has too much rhythm for him to know when he’s been beaten

Indignation seething, success still teething he takes notes of conceited believers

Recipes for deceit from facetious deceivers are levers for him to believe in the notion that perfection is found in fleeting moments

More than the results of intelligence quotients bad times will ever be the quota for a life in marvellous times

So we ignite with a life in marvellous minds, transpose to life in marvellous lines which don’t always make for those marvellous times

There’s no pardon for this grind, never milling around or spewing bile

Life is reality and we cannot afford to live in exile or domiciles of the docile

So as I learn life as his lines are my lines and in my mind I have to live my life in marvellous grinds because marvellous lines like hearts can be broken

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Filed under Random Poetics