March 10th, 2005

As Of Yet Untitled | Poetry Scribblings

I take a look around as a stumble through a concrete jungle of life
Hybrids upon Hybrids of emotions making me cry
I reach out to touch his hand, the homeless man here everyday
and there is no response
Where is the wisdom I once gained from this man?
Where is the smile that erupted from his tired, beat down worn face because I asked him how his day was?
I engaged in conversation with him when the world was too busy
Ah yes, but the world is always too busy
We're always running with our heads chopped off, gotta do this, gotta do that
Got to much to do so you hire me, your secretary, to take care of the work for you
You let me schedule your life? and you wonder why you don't know who you are
I hear my people screaming "Unity" in my ear every five seconds...
Brotha this...Sista that...Muslim...Revolution...Black Fist on Your Pick
But when you see me in the street you don't even look my way
You curl up your face to me like You could just spit
Black is beautiful, does that exist today?
I feel as if I'm spiraling in a world full of cadillacs, artifical sacrifices of our bodies for temporary pleasure and material possesions, twenty sixes, distorted religion, just to keep up with the Jones'
Well shit where the fuck are the Jones' cause they sholl ain't attainable
Prolly somewhere screaming "Get on My Level"
And you want a soldier? Somebody chiefing, gold teeth gleaming?
You make me fucking disgusted...
So now I'm no longer stumbling, now I'm running
Running to finish this course of life and just die
Running to claim my prize at the end of this life
Running with black tears streaming from my eyes...
holding myself cause I'm so cold at night
I'm trying to run away from this world but I just run to the inside