October 2011
11 posts
Definition
I always asked in the future. Will we still have prayers when we buy a new house. While there still be our shamans and our monks. Who will lead our temples and who will become our monks? Everyone responds there will always be someone.
Like the elders, we aren’t perfect. Our future shamans are criminals. Our future monks aren’t un-inked. Our future leaders are depression in...
The Smell of parasitism
I use to dread dying in this city. I dread a drone life. I eventually realized the future. The growth of everyone around me. I also realized the pain awaiting.
I remember how some houses you can walk in and smell what the house was. It didn’t matter if the floors were dirty and walls barren. The smell told what occurred in the house. Certain houses had something else. When you walk...
Tents and Trampolines
*Civic rolls up*
Everyone sits on a trampoline on a sunny day. Different colors and different cultures. One in the same. ”I could steal your car in two seconds with my hands.” I sat with people of many ages. Many backgrounds. Of many stories. Stories of incarceration to family. Stories of culture and life. Stories of children and childhood. We may never see each other again....
Lumpenproletariat
Sugar Water with a scent of pain
Smoke filled my lungs. Friday. I work everyday. Another friday. Actually another monday. Physically the same day, but mentally an excursion. Voices, knowledge, cultures, and life. Most importantly struggle. Everyone is a survivor here. Elderly to young. Biker brats to rice farmers. Everyone walking through the door carries baggage hiding behind their slouching eyes.
I sat their with...
Silence
Something something Something something That’s what he’s up too
Woopty woop woop woop something something
something Something Nigga’s locked up…………………… *silence in the whole room*
During incarceration, a person’s life stops. Life becomes a image viewed through televisions and blurred images of facebook filling screens of...
Fishscale yellow pink Rite Aid purple leaves
Tangent
A weekend to me is a giant surprise
I love being able to sleep, just sleep
Damn even a 8 hour shift on a frost air Sunday
brings a smirk to the heat of smoke
All I do is watch the sunlight
Maybe one day I’ll go back to my ways
Each and every way but not yet
For now I’m learning the tidings of manual labor.
Leave to Die Young, Dying Old to Live: Vice Versa
One serious post before I unleash random notes crumpled into my pockets as the sawdust grazes my eyes, cardboard soothes my nose, and memories dazes me into verse as pallet riders wriggle past.
I’m still young though, but I have to question what I’m living for. To defy fate I had to break away from what is perceived as good for me. It might have been a mistake to give away my...
