Thursday, July 30, 2009

Needy People

We are a needy people. A needy people. In such that we search. We search. For answers. For questions. We research ways to survive. We are a needy people. Investigating change. Hoping for progression. And making a difference. We are a people of the masses. Of the pain. And we are the solution. We, are the needy people. the birth of every country. The pride of every building. And the mold to be. The Foundation. We are needy.

We are needy. Needing justice. Needing freedom. Needing equality. Us- the needy people. Title of every story. Fighting for what we believe in. and finding cause in every meaning. And meaning in every struggle. We are in need of each other. Taking hands to scratch backs. We are the village. We raised the child. We are kings. We are queens. We rein cities, countries, continents. We are our ancestors re born. And new. Needy. Needing progress.

We are needy people. In such that we are powerful. We have this natural inclination to do whatever it takes, by any means necessary. To survive. And yet we struggle. We survive struggle. We are needy. We fight justice. We fight injustice. We fight each other. We fight. We are a powerful being. Strength. We find light in darkness. And beauty in pitch. Black. We find faith in solemn. We find peace in faith. We have hope. Ridiculed for our differences. Ridiculed for our similarities. We are a powerful, we are a power house. A needy group of people.

We are needy. We are needy people. In such that we crave change, taste victory, and eat defeat. We are needy in power. In glory. In history. A people that continue despite misfortune. Despite destruction. Despite captivity. Segregation. Miscegenation. Lack of education. Addiction. Corruption. Malnutrition. Willie Lynch them. Die for the cause, because death is easier… sometimes.
We are a needy people.

Martyrs. Symbols. Pickets signs. Separate aint equal. Thinking voting won't change, even though our needy people died to vote. Respect. Rising. Sitting. Running. They hanging. All cuz he was humming. Education. Black education. Blacks educating blacks. Let's educate them. Tenure them. Light in the dark, light better than dark complex. Complexion. The power. Writing. Reading. They killed us for it. And we still are needy. Despite the history books. The pictures. The lynching. After countless drives, sit in, voters registrations. Legislation. We make the history of the country. We make it be.

And they say we are needy people. The truth is we are. Needing love, needing stability, needing justice, community. Needing each other. To continue despite misfortune. Despite destruction. Despite the odds. To survive. And that, we will

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

the art never dies

here is a piece i was truly inspired to create. check him

Inspired by a great artist (first!!)...

He draws his dreams into existence
Sketching his hopes
Through tips built on passion and faith
A haunting habit that his soul breathes
Necessary feed, he bleeds,images
How deep
Each sight creates each masterpiece
Collisions and barricades of passion,love&pain
Life without would be meaningless
Love without would be worthless
Value is bestowed in his worth(work):
Blank slates, create outlets of space
Visionary guided by forces,
Natural movements.
With each blink, seconds spent closed canvas,Sketch book:dream land imagined;becomes.
Reality is rested in his ideals.
Bound by lines, colors, shapes, the feel.
Emotions manifested, observations
Of your passion touch many
Influence action
Retrace universal emotion:
Close to heart, capturing each pump of life
Limited by time,
Yet available
The art never dies.
Production of perfection at war with priorities
And perception of loving art more
Than those tangible.
But: the obsession is within each breath.
And so it is within:
Public viewings, soul etched on all to see
Public feelings
Admired publically
Yet, only needing affirmation and confirmation
Within. mentally.
Always hungry,
Starving artist appetite despite years invested
Misunderstood by the desires of man
Aggression against time
Begging not to be wasted, spent in vain
Lost in the concept of creation.
Conscious controls living. All that is thought, is, and will be.
And he begins without instruction
Guided by movement
Requested by many
Misunderstood by plenty
Placing blame on man
For being only human
Admired, even envied for his craft.
Refreshing, eternal soul starving to be full
Yet exposed
Releasing visions, filling holes
But still left incomplete...
Just breathing...
With each sigh: inhale, exhale- relief.
As he draws his dreams into existence
With each movement comes inspiration
This haunting habit that has his soul
Breathes within him.. The art
Deep sigh: inhale, exhale, -relief.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Often Failure Seems Worst Than Prison

One of my brother's back home is locked up.. and i often write about his decisions,influence,effects, and presence in my life... here is a piece i wrote over the summer...

The plight of a man
Broken by struggles
Pushed by survival
Yet moved by materials
First born. Loved. Adored. Spoiled.
The Creation of a life full of ego
Who Chased pride
Limited by self- determination
Control and societal roles
But his story hasn't proven any different
Same ol'e hit the streets beat

But could have been
A doctor
A surgeon
Could have just been
But he became....
Perfection that got thrown into beats
Heart sound of life
To the minute
Minute to the deal
And deal to seal
The life living
Ego tipping
The hustle
The women
The time stolen
Always start
Now he has to finish

Gone til november
And so scales couldn't have ever
Caught this weight
The plight of this man.
Struggling with brokeness
Searching for paths acquired not earned
Stacks earned through rep acquired
Balancing prison and death
And reps that brought stacks

(Also brought pets
Streets talk
Dogs walk, cat don't live 9 lives
Where I'm from.
And He already used one too many)..

And so he paved
Bull dozer
Street doza
No corner
No formula
No front
All investments pure ego bought
The plight woven through
Flight not once, not twice..and again...
And yet he created a hole deeper than death
A cycle of repetition
Lifestyle changes
created lifestyle maybe's
Of things changing
And though the light always shined
They took pics of the one who
Shinned the brightest
Thinking small cover ups
And large line ups
On hush hush
Would balance?
He knew scales better than any
And was the news.
Fast became now, because yesterday got blue
Out of style. So they watched
They learned
They took pics
While he were ahead of the city.
And even now..
All on his shoulders...
It seems
The worth was earned so hard
That failure is worst than prison...
Leaving nothing left...
But the plight of a man
Broken by struggles...