Prison Bars

I spit prison bars,
got you locked up cuz you fucked up.
Graspin the steel, tryna see whos on the other side
it's just a mirror, looking at yo own mind.
Brought this upon yourself, no belt,
you couldn't hold your own, your own pants fell.
Metaphor for your dignity incase you couldn't recognize,
you're lyrically irrelevant, so stop feeding your self lies.
you can't write, you can't freestyle.
Oh so you think you can rap? Na fuck that you can't,
you're just saying shit with words that rhyme,
anyone can do that, it takes true skill to implement a metaphor.
And if you tryna diss me, this whole song is a better form of a metaphor,
it's got a meaning, a better core, than your life's existence,
are these words too big for you to spit, too difficult.
Go read a book, quit rappin,
Your a kid still in school, you got a lot more to learn.
Lesson one, don't fuck with me or you'll burn.
Like Usher, why don't you confess what you yearn to.
Go to church, ask for forgiveness from something that don't exist.
Yeah fuck you I said God is fake, just like your rap skills.
How do I know? Because life is fucked, from the start.
Shout out to MC Stutters I feel your beating heart,
that's the bass and treble, but I can't hear the lyrics.
Your heart will never speak to me, not of what you've endured.
Your experience is yours to fight back with, that's ensured.
Using your past as fuel to create ambition for your engine,
I'm wishing you all the best, I hope those bills patch your bleeding heart.
Because I know they've taken mine apart,
so now I spit these prison bars, because then maybe I'll encompass myself behind them.
Freed from humanity and the monetary greed.
This rap can't end now, I'm still not full, I got the urge to feed,
seven deadly sins, movin from gluttony to wrath.
It's not the last, that's why I don't spit my saliva,
I save it to burn you when I take a hit.
You're the blunt I rolled, now get ready to get smoked.
My flow is smooth, I won't choke, no joke.
This song's as serious as they come and go,
it'll become a cliche to hear Paul's the next to blow.
It won't happen, I know, I don't respect any rappers that spit,
that bullshit.
Mos Def, Talib Kweli, Eminem, the very few with meaning when they spew their stew.
It's too hot to intake, it'll burn your tongue, this ain't something you can recite,
wait for the hook to say you had something you sung.
They call this a rap beat, cuz my lines hit you with blows so hard,
you fall back to take a seat, but it's been pulled from underneath.
You hit the dirt, you're back down to your true level.
Your confidence was too high, you needed to be reduced back to rubble.
There's a reason I'm 6' 2'',
I'm high enough above you that I can keep these raining clouds above you,
those aren't rain drops, those are tears.
Am I killing you this bad?
These are just words, imagine if I tried.
It took me just a few minutes to show you what I'm capable of.
So give me a record deal I dare you,
see how bad I fuck up this rap game, I'll kill it myself and recreate it in my image.
My ego is through the roof, call my Kanye East.
Representing the right brain, representin creativity.
I barely rhymed any words back there, did you notice?
I didn't even need to, cuz I can do what the fuck I want and still own this.

Funny Freestyle

I wanna say somethin that mean somethin,
cuz these fake ass rappers say nothin.
When they spittin, I just be sittin,
lookin at em like are you shittin?
What the fuck was that, you talkin bout a millie,
like really? u havent even seen no money silly.
You a bitch compared to yo label,
ur wealth is a young kids fable.
You spittin lil nursery rhymes,
tryna tell me what I ain't doin right.
I dun needa make it big we stay underground,
bitches get scared cuz we go so loud,
we the earthquakes that go around.
This a freestyle, don't expect no metaphors rumblin at yo feet
got less shit to say than Lil Wayne on a beat.
Yes, i said it, Lil wayne is weak,
he raps like a stink bomb, that shit just reek.
He spit like me when I first started, no where near my peak.
where u just rhymin to rhyme, every word on repeat.
That fool needs to leave rap, take a seat,
listen to some real arteests.
Damn I just rhymed so much, I'm feelin elite,
oops I did it again, na, fuck britney,
ya im talkin bout spears, i'm goin off on a tangent,
I dunno wut I'm doin now, just robbin you of yo time like a bandit.
My freestyle got u jumpin like im hip hops rabbit,
my rhymes so sick im like a squirrel that's rabid.
And my blows hit u so low, that yo jeans cant even sag it.
Naa, you can't fuck with me maggot.

Hip Hop

Let's pretend that Hip Hop's a perfect lifestyle,
that the music always represents what's right.
But let's shed some light,
reveal everyday hip hop lies.
Materialistic, degrading lyrics leading our Rick Ross lives.
The P. Diddy's and Suge Knight's of the industry,
livin off other's success, livin off the elite.
Got Soulja Boy's reppin money and hoes,
and real boys reppin life, livin the streets.
These new style generations needa teach,
not brag about the money they record label leach.
Needa stop trippin over beats and try to understand the lyrics,
live a better life & look for inner perfection through your mirrors.
Look to yourself and change this world one song at a time,
show everyone what we all struggle with through every rhyme.
So pick up a pen and tell us about your life.
There's no rhyming necessary,
just put it on paper, and let the writing get teary.

Amen

Everyday the same,
he can't think straight or sane.
Waitin for an epiphany, makin that step to rap from poetry.
He's stuck, don't know what the fuck he doin,
to save her, keepin his pen to the paper.
FOr this rap game, what can he write for change.
Write about real life like in the 90s,
or talk about money he don't have, like these dumb kids.
Should he spit fast like Busta or Twista,
or talk slow and call himself a rapper, like Lil Wayne.
It's buggin him badly,
every lil apostrophe.
Unable to extend his vocabulary,
can't end with punctuation, can't be patient.
He just lets his writing flow word by word,
true meaning fluttering like a bird.
With every letter given a different emphasis,
so much meaning, can't empty this,
freestyle cuz his life's so vile.
Sending a letter to the mainstream.
cuz he's the mailman of mayhem,
got them begging to God, chantin Amen.

Morally Poor

The slightest word and you'll see,
a riot within me looking to be set free.
Ragin' and pacin' across my mind,
lookin' to unblind your views, see the true me.
Like Zumie, feeling shutdown and empty,
like you and he tryna understand my vocabulary.
I'm not actually using complicated terminology,
it's just life's too detailed I can't even see,
or comprehend how the world's been to me.
It's contraband, the truth is hidden illegally.
Like government feeding us lies politically,
so obese from the bullshit, we're not fit physically.
Stealing our money, we're in a dark pit fiscally,
and like any other great nation, we're doomed to fall inevitably.
Greed leaves us no patience, as we continue to burn trees.
I'm not talking about weed, just the poison called money.
We're fed this green, from the cunning.
Cash bound to us like the devil,
leaving our humanity in rubble.
With professional panhandlers acting like they're subtle,
when we're all just morally poor and in trouble.

Veracity

This relationship became inscrutable,
this argument is just indisputable.
It seemed like it was a pragmatic connection,
but it just had no appropriate direction.
So plainly convoluted that I couldn't bear to understand,
so abstruse it was like you were hiding your poker hand.
I'm using this cosmopolitan terminology,
so you can fully understand the complexity of my apology.
This poem is not an attempt to castigate,
no, I don't want to be the type to instigate.
Your circumstances had to be so credible to show me,
so that it would be incontrovertible against my plea.
I'm writing this basically so you're exonerated,
so I can feel like I shouldn't be completely hated.
Your way of thinking was just too scrupulous,
leaving me in an exorbitant mess.
The relationship always had to be ameliorated,
just causing disagreements to be created.
I was so inundated by your troubled past,
my past was so different in contrast.
I had tried to be curative to your dilemmas,
but it just wasn't a probable cause.
You were so dubious that it could work,
it just makes me feel like a jerk.
But I stayed up every night, ambivalent to your claims,
that this wouldn't end; guess it was just all games.
This poem is definitely ambiguous, it will leave you unable to discuss.
What this poem might have meant,
containing all my self-torment.

As seasons change

The cold winter moon hovering,
we all share her, all brought together.
She is a goddess, overlooking the running river.
Stream struggling to escape, from its confined prison,
slowly gathering speed, flowing away to an ocean.
The grasslands swayed forcefully by the winter wind,
but by spring,
absolutely lavish and free of domestication.
In spring, when the flowers bloom without end,
as each passing day reveals life crowded.
No more cold dark nights, expanded illumination,
early sun rise, expanded imagination.
As raindrops turn to rainbows, as sprinkles of water magnify the blazing sun.
A ray of light revealed at nature's touch,
to encompass earth with nature's tarp.
As the rain settles and warmth is birthed,
summer shows its heated worth.
Burning rays and waves feeling like a curse.
Running to tight crevices to hide from the light,
the cool winter river melts on sight;
as mother nature continues to meditate, ever so quietly.

My muse

Who is she?
My midsummer nights dream?
That cool morning breeze,
the sun's rays revealing the true beauty,
of her face.
Is her smile the cause of my haste,
to see those blue ocean eyes encompassed in flames?
The fury of a woman, unleashed in a wave,
but still as smooth as a violin.
The rhythm of her voice giving my life melody,
flow of her hair exceeding my writing's fluidity,
those beautiful eyes givin more goosebumps than my poetic delivery.
The reason I can look up & smile,
even in strife, keeping me up every night.
Even for a minute,
cuz I truly love her & I really mean it.
My ark savin me from the flood of humanity.
A start, to savin me from the cruelty.
My one forbidden thing, no matter the consequence,
I'll never regret our first acquaintance.
So then who is she?
My love for her so deep, I'm on a leash,
will it ever cease, will I ever be set free?
Nope, cuz she's my poetry.

The Short Little One

There's a girl in my class,
that always seems to give me a laugh.
Befriending her through utter annoyance,
making myself seem like an absolute dunce.
But the time has been particularly fun,
because I assume, a friendship is what has been won.
From starting out crabby, to ultimately becoming friendly,
I can say this much, it was definitely funny,
even to a certain degree.

This isn't a poem about crushing or loving,
or a poem about sucking up or hating.
It's more of a fun free-write to express my opinion,
about the girl in my class, the short little one.

Time

Time is unsurpassed, forever unforgettable.
Time eats away at life, so edible.
What we say can never be undone,
what we say will always be on us.
The raindrops of the spring,
and the snow the winter brings.
All sequences in time,
all with their own position in line.
Time cannot be cut,
or undone,
your time will come,
you can never run.
Time will sweep you off your feet,
blow you away with the breeze.
Time takes the ones you thought you could forever love,
time takes them away from memory, not sparing even one.
Time is the end of our day,
always in sight, but forever far away.
Time gives us a peak at tomorrow, but today stays forever,
so we never truly know, but maybe there's a latter?
But only time knows the truth,
and only time knows this poem's last letter.

War

Unable to find his future,
he couldn't find the money, wanted to go to college and pursue,
so he joined the army, hoping money would be due.

It was dark and all he could hear was his gun echo,
it was his first time shooting an M4,
the smell of death scattered in the downpour,
he was one of many soldiers waiting for their savior,
who were all desperate to end this war, to find a cure.

Sleeping outdoors and awakening to gunshot roars,
he couldn't take it no more, it was worse than the ghetto,
couldn't even yell, heard only his echo,
the pitch dark drove him psycho,
but he had to keep his mentality to beat the foe,
before America was left with yet another widow.
Knowing this war couldn't get a veto,
he fought to see another tomorrow,
had to stay low and avoid any bullet inflow,
or more would be left in sorrow.

Never was this a gunfight, was desperation leading to a dogfight.
Never was there sunlight, always dark, but always looking for a light,
to help his morale, cowering and deep in fright,
never able to foretell what tomorrow would bring.

Being American, he thought the choice to live was his birthright,
Being American, hoping his fellow people would hear his plight.

My Friend

Living in a place unknown,
he tried to explain himself through his rap flow,
he wasn't necessarily alone,
but sometimes he could hear his past echo.

Mom and dad giving away their roles to others,
their experiences nothing like Cali's summer weather,
unstable connections breaking them apart,
but their child was too strong, he never fell apart.

Until he found his first love, weakening his heart.
Until he dropped out of school, weakening his mind.

But he never needed much, he had us by his side,
even when his love fled and his heart bled,
we walked by his side, sharing each stride.
Looking out for one another, like blood brothers,
his heart and mind strengthened like no others.

No matter what anyone says, even if they clown him for his stutter,
his heart beats strong and steady.

Because that's his only flaw,
the rest none his fault.

World's End

It's the last holiday,
no more kids out to play,
acid raid not goin away,
burns the humanity out of our race.

We have no last words,
the trees are fallen, no more birds,
cruelty is risen, savages fighting in hoards,
crews are written, no laws on board.

The last of our humanity,
groups give way to the cruelty,
looking down upon brothers for faggotry,
all flaws frowned upon, making us all enemies.

The beginning of our downfall,
civilization's blinded by propaganda,
we hear God's mute voice, followed by all,
deaf to all, unable to comprehend our cries, the chaotic noise.

Religion giving way to our racism,
giving our arguments more ammunition
preachings of equality, all a contradiction,
my god's a myth, all just fiction.

Our mentality at the world's end,
we follow, we conform, we praise the trend,
we throw up gang signs reppin' west end,
our future has been forever condemned,
only in fear do we kneel, staring in the face of the end,
only in fear do we kneel, looking for a friend.

Somethings Better Left Unsaid

Walking by the beautiful autumn trees,
I thought of the times that i spent with you,
as the leaves flew by me with the breeze.
The days in which, together, we grew.

Sitting down on a bench with my book out,
trying to read, but only reminiscing,
you were like my anti-drug, something I couldn't do without,
feeling like the past was the only thing that I could look to cling.

Then, standing back up and leaving a book of a thousand words behind,
hoping to forget, trying so hard to distract myself,
but somethings, including piece of mind, weren't something I could find,
just hearing my thoughts come alive was making me go deaf.

Falling to the ground, into a pile of autumn leaves,
thinking of your beauty that resembles the incredible season,
one thing that can't be taken away from you, not even by those thieves,
the ones who told me that my love could not have won.

And then, looking up at the wondrous sky,
I thought to myself, that which made me wonder,
why did everything go so awry?
never expecting an answer, as I sat there and went under.

Under all the regrets and the unsaid apologies,
and all the unforgiven mistakes I've committed,
with my mind trying to find a way to appease,
things that I had kept to myself and hid.

Something that neither of us had a clue to,
and now because of some unmistakable feeling,
I must say something that maybe you never knew...
But now it's too late, it's the end of fall,
all the times I've had the chance, are all through,
so now I can't confess that love,
to you.

I Love You

I loved you, and now you're gone,
expecting you to just come back,
kind of like the ever returning dawn.
But I can't look at that now, you're not coming back,
I wish I could be positive, but all I can do is slump and wonder.
What could I have done to stopped it all from happening?
Could I have stopped it and avoided the pain I've fallen under?
I'm living in regret now, trying to imagine you coming back, maybe in the spring,
hopefully you'll bloom again and come back to stay,
imagining all the happiness that your return could bring.
Things don't work like that anymore though, even if we religiously pray.
That's all it is, just a prayer, to an unmerciful God,
it's all just a hope that things will change after a day.
But we can't do anything, death walks around, always, wearing a facade.
Never going to know when you'll lose the one you love forever,
you can never realize what you've got until you've lost it,
that's all it is, it's just an impossibly unsuccessful endeavor.
Now all I can do is ask the hardest questions before I quit.
Why does death take away the ones we love forever?
But leave us with the burden of pain to forever love the ones we must lose?
Being left with all the pain and regret forever,
Wish things didn't fall apart so unexpectedly, it's just left me to muse.
The last thing I can say is that I'm glad to live with the burden of your love,
the burden that has given me the strength to stand back up,
I will forever love you, no matter how far away you go.
R.I.P. Grandma

Peace

Silently watching this house fall apart,
Really just wishing, hoping to depart.
Never expected hell could break loose,
a place I called home, full of abuse.
Writing and speculating just to evade,
it wouldn't be enough, even if I prayed.
Seeing my loved ones walk on this thin life line,
made me wish that this pain wasn't really mine.
Was envisioning and hoping for that perfect life,
and struggling to end my strife while looking for some insight.
Seeing my mom fall and cry in defeat,
seeing her in pain at all the deceit.
Lifting my mother up and wiping her tears,
and hoping for peace as we sat on those stairs.
And I sat crying with my mom,
wishing that I could see her calm.
I lost my innocence at a young age,
being trapped and encompassed by my rage.
This feeling of hate I could not contemplate,
feeling this and hoping the drugs would sedate,
the pain and hate.
I smoked all the weed that I could get,
and I got addicted, I'll admit.
Trying to retreat and forget the pain,
I ended up doing it all in vain.
Now you see my story,
containing no glory.
The story ending at sixteen,
and beginning a new life with a new scene.
Never thought I could see my home in peace,
no longer needing to call the police.
Glad to be sitting here with no stress,
knowing I won't have to feel distress.
And knowing that I have my best friends,
this security that I hope never ends.