Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 30

30/30

for my unknown ancestors

-----

We've come
from the four corners
of a shattered earth
to give birth
to a new direction
see I've had some time for reflection
and instead of constantly deflecting
rejection and hard knock lessons
I've learned to embrace the haters
and bring pain to the forefront
of my mind
so when I step to the mic
my voice echoes my grind
sharing stories of a time when my father
and my father's father
battled bigotry and slaved for incompetent slavemasters
to forge a better life for their sons to follow after
and that's me
born in the womb of one of Asia's most royal of queens
the Chinese
who built this country from barehands and sticks of dynamite
who slaved over steel snakes through the coldest of winter nights
whose skeletons sit in democracy's closet
they
are my bloodline, my namesake, my spotlight
highlighting years of oppression that gave way to
fears of rebellion
and now my people sit in Vancouver's Chinatown

laying tracks in their arms like they laid tracks for the nation
White arms that beat them down like slaves on a plantation
rockslides and gunshots causing racial devastation
and discrimination
giving birth to a generation
of warriors
born of great emperors
but now far away from home
outside the great wall
we found our mission

to be divine beings in a land stolen from native hands
to reconcile race and bond together brothers
see I pick up a hammer
but it's not to drive spikes
more so to nail the planks that hold this nation together

see our struggle
was here
and our pain
was severe
but the past is but now a distant memory
that only serves to inspire new strength within

we are one people
and this is our home
so let us now leave the legacy of brokenness behind us
and begin the long journey back
to our throne.

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 29

29/30

There's a light at the end of the tunnel
it's called redemption
redemption for all those times you walked by
and didn't say a word
for all those times you spit into the wind
only to duck and let it hit him
redemption for the places you went
and the paces you spent
trying to put faces behind you
redemption for all the times you never shared
the struggles you were going through
too ashamed to admit that you were hurting too
isn't it true
how false men breed false boys
who lead false lives
and live falsely
but
success still grants them destiny
and fortune, smiles upon them recklessly
so when you see a member of the false clan standing tall to collect his laurels
keep in mind
that flowers will fade
and crowns will wither away in time
but true shine
that true shine that bursts forth from you like a perfect crime
is the real reason why redemption stares the condemned in the face
and brings goodness to night
for in your patience you stand at the end of the tunnel
and all they can see
is your light.

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 28

28/30

for those who make it through life's biggest game

-----

Her intentions were as clear as a mid-february snowstorm
a flurry of good ideas and finally, some half-decent conversations
I found confusion in her eyes
hesitation in her smile
and while sparks fly when game meets game
sometimes folks with no game end up having a grand old time
and it still remembers
sometimes
memories of watermelon and talking to God
recollections of log cabins and a penchant for awkward situations
made worse by the fact that hyenas always stood gamely by
waiting to play too
and so we waited
not realizing that life comes far too quickly
for game to take its time
that's when I realized
that life had finally caught up with me
eight years later than most
it's a bit of a joke
still
a bit of a ghost
still
but still I see her
haunting the enlightened hallways of my mind
like a legend of the past come forward in time
and to her
have my documents constructed a shrine
to worship the idea of game.

so for love of the game,
I will play.
Continue to play life until the day it rubs me out
on the concrete curb that is death
and with my last breath
I'll say
that at least I tried.
At least I tried.
but love requires more than a try
is what my minefield mind will muster to realize
before
I finally die.

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 27

27/30

listen child
they will try and keep you down
try to molest you, protest you
reject your worth and call your ideas worthless
these
snakes disguised as men come
crawling
their lies blatant in their eyes and on their forked tongues
hoping to corrupt our daughters and sons
listen child
the day is coming when your dreams will need to be spoken
to be achieved
and achieved to realize peace
and pieces of peace will go to us and ours,
and them and theirs
till earth unites with the broken bits of lost hope and the shimmering of anticipation and excitement
optimism
they call it.
But I would rather enjoy cold toast inside than nothing outside
listen child
love will one day come.
you need to run
past fears of oppression and suicidal tendencies
we tend to see them
in a different. light. yesh, su...

this is the song humanity will sing when the youth grow up without the will to aspire
when soldiers for the cause lose their urge to fight and surrender their fire
this is as it is because it is intended.

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 26

26/30

When the stars align perfectly
there is a dark spot you can see
just to the right of Orion's belt
holding up the pants of the galaxy
it's a spot that speaks volumes of the moon's
stubborn desire to stay in darkness
when the clouds stroll by
on their midnight patrol
those
eerie goblin bats that flap across the night sky
are simply a sign of what's to come
as shadows move swiftly across the frozen plain
the skies crack open and release rain
as if the heavens themselves are already crying in anticipation
of all the pain
that will occur the next day
they
come with all their claws extended
screams suspended
unrepentant
they strike with all the quickness of a cobra snake
with all the violence of a sandstorm and the strength of an earthquake

our fortress falls
inevitably
it always does
as the twilight horizon breaks into dawn
sunlight is not the only thing that cracks into this embattled scene
my dreams
are simply reality
Because for me
defeat occurred long before
swords fell our brothers
and knives slayed our mothers
long before our sisters were taken to be slaves
and our children spent their days digging mass graves

When Orion's belt finally falls
it will bring the pants of the universe down with it
and as the skies fails
so will the final soldier's fighting spirit

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 25

25/30

Speak your mind
Share your soul
do good to those who hurt you
Spread your love
Sow your joy
and never waste your virtue
Sing your song
Say your prayer
that all around might hear it
Serve the weak
Support the poor
for they are rich in spirit

Love the old
and grow the young
for life both past and present
will be to you so valuable
when you meet both in heaven

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 24

24/30

for Amaris

-----

we the broken walk slowly through life's forgotten paths
those same narrow paths engulfed on both sides by menacing mountains from which the enemy attacks
this is our struggle
it is a battle against monsters and schemers
who aim to destroy shakers and dreamers
rank and file of created believers
who strap up with words as weapons and books as blades
that we might one day become strong enough to take down demons in our sleep
so listen

to the sweet-suckle lullabies sang to us by our mothers in the naive bliss of childhood
when believing was as easy as not seeing and trusting was as easy as hearing
they who are protected by divine proclamation that any fiend who even dreams
of harming the hairs on their heads
will be sent underwater with a rock around their neck
love is ruthless

but also willing to wait.
It waits for those who are too weak to carry themselves
who look for help in the books upon the shelves
Do they not see?
Have they not heard?
the wisdom of divine warriors echoes through generations of oppressed and victimized souls
reminding them that they are a chosen people, labeled for love in the most lavish of ways
That to stay strong is merely to say a small prayer and hum a quiet song
That they who find strength within will be quick to show strength without
standing tall, facing north to shout
that though mountains may fall through the pit of the earth
and oceans may swallow themselves in storms and swells
though trees may cease to create leaves or seeds
and winds will howl to unleash primal devastation
those who trust in love will never fail
to rise up
rise strong
rise again on wings made from eagles' inspiration.

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 23

23/30

There is blood on this land

On this land where
once a people stood noble and free
with a will forged in the fire of unity
and the overarching desire for liberty

with sad gaze this warrior surveys the horizon
to hold his baby daughter, gaze in her eyes and
relay the tale of how this nation's graces were taken and left to die when
gold became the only colour desired by strange men

Remember the days when this land teemed with birds and beasts
swimming under the seas and soaring on the breeze wild and free
remember the days when we used to run through the trees
picking berries and sowing seeds while drinking the sweet dewdrops from green leaves
these
are memories that I hold so dear
the forest cries
and these
are memories that will forever be here
the wind sighs
and these
are memories that will always bring us back
the warrior decides
staking his spear in the ground to claim it back for what nature only wishes for

I remember the days when this was a great nation
now stripped bare by the greedy tree stumps of deforestation
leaving earth's mother to dry her tears on wheat fields in deep contemplation
for the swallow will sing once more in its spring inhalation
and the nightmares turned dreams will achieve true manifestation
in the hopes and desires brought on by the Divine's holy creation
Hear it
this song that will pass through abandoned bison runs for generations
it is the battle cry, the funeral dirge, and the lovers' lament
for the skeleton of an always defiant, never defeated
warriors' nation.

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 22

22/30

There is no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow
only broken hearts and scattered dreams

And these days, I wade through bloody streams
of what seems to be nothing more than promises
shattered like pieces of glass bottles that litter the streets
after the latest barroom brawl
Please
I've been pleading for generations to the ones who rule the nations
won't they just stop
for a second
recollect their memories of what used to be
and passionate hopes
for life yet to be
they remember, see?
but memories fade in time like fingerprints
and with the wind are blown to the four corners of earth
polluting people's realism all over the world
casting new light on old flames, raising women from girls
and warriors from sons
but remember how these fantasies only exist in our thoughts?
Remember you not where you stood when Martin Luther King Jr. was shot
for daring to dream?

The wicked ones will always wage wars through their wandering schemes
content to break lockets and toss molotov cocktails into the gears of machines
Manifesting evil desires and a penchant for fire to extinguish the hope
of all those who dare to see
that the scene these days is dreary
and the soldiers, they are weary
no longer do lost lovers share tongue secrets by light of the moon's beams
nor mothers stitch care into their children's pockets bloody seam by bloody seam
no longer do broken spirits hear the call to become warriors and queens, no

these days mankind survives and strives only to find
that there is no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow
only broken hearts and scattered dreams.

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 21

21/30

I wonder where hope is

Last I saw it was chasing a homeless teenage girl down some dirty back alleyway
begging her not to give up on it
It is lost somewhere
in mind but out of sight
hidden somewhere on the street corners where the man is turned down
over and over
over and over
again and again till he can't take rejection any longer
for him, it's not about food
he can get that at the shelter
it's not about love
because he gave up on that long ago
but no
it's simply the simple sign that somebody sees some semblance
of humanity in his broken eyes and offers him a smile
as if to say hey
you may not have laughed in a while
but joy, pure joy like that of a child
is present in everyday gifts like a smile
even if they seem few and far between

but nobody smiles.
in the complexities of our broken down built up
high rise complexes
he is perplexed to see that humanity has come so far
but fallen so fast
see
hope sits on the corner rock of building tops
surveying the steep drop with all the zeal of a street cop
ready to hop down and hit the ground running
to bring sun in and fun back
to the places where faces severely lack
sincerity
see hope sees no hope in diving down into town
for when it looks around, it sees nothing but hopeless cases
outlined on the weary lines of weathered faces
they are screaming
so silent as if to call out the deaf
but all hope sees is death
so all it does is wait.
from its perch at the peak of the city
waiting for a life to walk by that it considers worthy of saving
meanwhile, hope will sit
next to rooftop gargoyles who have long given up illusions of lost art
and have exchanged them for stone hearts
hope
will wait.
for that one homeless teenage girl to pass its way.

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 20

20/30

To the days when you feel like waking up is the hardest thing you've ever done
remember what it was like to be little

to brave the schoolyard bully waiting to shove your face into the mud before taking your lunch money
to face up to apathetic teachers who told you Hercules and his pet horse Pegasus weren't real
to the prospect of sitting behind the girl who didn't know you existed while smelling the new shampoo her mom bought her; loreal kids
to eat healthy sauce spread on whole wheat bread while your friends pull out lunch kit snackers and pizza pockets
to losing all your candy at pogs; starburst and oh henry and rockets
dammit

life is rough around the edges
but its middle is gold like a cutting horizon sunset reflecting off the snow of some forgotten backcountry farm field near Kingston
beauty can be found in the worst scenarios
where every moment goes
to show
that if you fight
it'll be worth it, so
embrace the waste and face it
life is made pretty with problems
and spirits are forged in the flames of tribulation
but as long as we use up our fighting spirits losing in xbox and playstation
the world will turn without us
leaving us behind
so
unconvinced that we've ever figured out
what life truly is like
beyond the screen of complacency and cowardice
this
is a battle.
A call out to all those who wake up feeling like it's the hardest thing they can ever do
be you
stay true
from the course, don't waver, and from the fight, don't balk
because there is nobody else in this world who can do you more beautifully than you
real talk.

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 19

19/30

a continuation from 18/30...
----

all these lessons did mankind subject himself to find
to acquiesce reason with fact in the recesses of his mind
and through the annals of centuries
these sagas have stood the test of time
on rocks made of sand made of rocks made of sand
they are mine
and yours
opening destiny's double doors are the
teachings of the past
and the discoveries of the greats that have last
ed generations
as all nations under the sun flock to find out for themselves what knowledge is
as all nations under the sun wage wars from red lines to find out what power is
as all nations under the sun put pen to pages and voices on soapbox stages to find out what truth is
this is
the education of a race still young
a race brash with the fact that it owns the earth it treads upon
so shine like the sun
we tell our sons
and flow like the water
we tell our daughters
not realizing that earth is a mother, and time is a father
and in order to father and mother the seeds of a generation that will affect change
our lessons will need to be shorter
strike harder
and sit longer
reinvent ourselves
and let textbooks wallow in dust on our bookshelves because this education is greater than lesson plans and lecture halls
it goes back to the back pocket poetry I read scrawled on the forgotten walls of bathroom stalls
this
is lesson one.

And we've only just begun.

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 18

18/30

a continuation from 17/30...
----

And from the seeds of great minds did
mines appear
digging into the earth searching for things of worth
worth more than the lives that were sacrificed for
as young boys and sick men spent their days in the
stomach of the earth's core
breathing in anything but air and finding everything
but gold
and gold, was paid to buy trees
to make wood
to travel overseas
to fledgling countries more than willing to offer their prophets for profit
and values, for value
meek souls crushed beneath the feet of corporations and petrol stations
this
is lesson five. Economics.

Taking the earth's resources for granted was as concrete
as overlooking humanity's own mother
and so in disgust Father Time
sent down winds of change so violent
that centuries were tossed into unbeing
and decades into existence
for once
the earth was well
and humanity shamed for all the sins committed in its very name
until the masses spoke out against corruption and evil
rampant among the people
from the witch doctor's mud hut to the Christian cathedral steeple
yes
no longer did God rule over the land as water washed over the sands
race took power into its hands and
banished Creation in favour of self-determination
and the eternal quest for ethereal manifestation
of spirit, mind, and soul
this
is lesson six. Religion.

(to be continued...)

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 17

17/30

It is an education that is merely necessary
even when I learn more reading the writing on the hidden walls of bathroom stalls
still these hallowed halls
are where society deems it needed for me to be
see
life?
is nothing more than a culmination of lessons
lectures and labs taking place in the classroom that is this world

It is the essence of all that embodies education
Lessons
taught by experience and harnessed by evolution
of mind
and body and soul
God told light to make a damned appearance for once in its life
so for once in its life, light did.
And from light did life spring forth into being
seeing beauty in the way that the rocks bloomed up from dirt patches of grass and bamboo shoots
while creatures shot up from the land like furry flowers and scaly stalks of forgetmenots
and man walked among beast and boulder
to shoulder creation's burden in taking on the care-taking of such magnificent manifestations
this
is lesson one. Biology.

Lesson two came in the form of nation
notions of nations and nationalistic sentiments
drove nations against nations and brothers against brothers
while mothers screaming and pleading were dragged dirty and bleeding
onto the streets
where blood stained the gold walkways of civilization's greatest achievements
and in all their righteous knowledge
man felt compelled to quell rebellions and sell their souls in exchange for more creation
this
is lesson two. History.

And from history sprang up a generation of poets who passed on their past with perfect verbal proficiency
to speak prophecies and
pose prose so potent that tribal chieftains would gather to smoke it
they were
the elected storytellers
divinely gifted planet dwellers
developing didactic knowledge
that dropped down through generations
like genetic mutations
this
is lesson three. Linguistics.

And from the well of man's words did wisdom turn to waste
and in all haste
all men sought to become the wisest of God's creation
sought to become gods amongst gods in concrete jubilation
while God watched from below in resigned desolation
wisdom
a hunter of weak and a vulture when placed into the wrong hands
became the idol for all the idle men who achieved immortality
by talking circles around circles and debating over the state of nations
while life passed slowly by eating an apple
not bothering to let those wise men know that true enlightenment comes from the lives you have led
not the talking of heads
this
is lesson four. Philosophy.

(to be continued...)

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 16

16/30

Even when mountains seem too high to scale
Simply follow the light sent by those who have blazed trails
those who have gone before us are the forgotten greats
they who never aspired to achieve society's views of victory
but instead sought to succeed in the unlikeliest of places
and with the unlikeliest of deeds
these warriors of the daily struggle are our mentors
from their peak they are willing to teach us all that they've learned
and all that they know but
we say no
No.
No thanks, we know all we need to know
So we'll climb
and we'll climb with the might of a million muscles all flexing in the same direction
and the determination of drunkards to reach the next tavern but
even the strongest of us were meant to fall
even the smartest of us were meant to stall
even the stoic among us were meant to bawl
so on the day failure met us all at the base of the mountain to do battle
and in the waning light of a rapidly setting sun we suffered defeat after defeat
after defeat
after defeat
see
death is inevitable
and life
is insufferable
but those who fight for love and believe in faith itself will rise up in flames
and the generals among them shall reclaim their names
Names like

Martin Luther King Jr.
Harriet Tubman
Mahatma Gandhi
Rosa Parks
Che Guevara
Malcolm X
Bob Marley
Mother Teresa
Joan of Arc
and more.

And on the day these legends rise from the ground to sound the call for a new revolution
the world as currently constructed will quake
and its rulers will tremble as they seek to escape
the inevitable destruction that will follow
for too long have the ancients tolerated the evil ways of mad men
destined to drive the earth into even more restless states of hatred and greed
but fear not
see
For the long promised end of oppression is drawing near
and now the fiercest of God's earthly angels
are finally here.

And to those who have blazed trails and lit lamps to light our way

we salute you.

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 15

15/30

There is truth in her eyes
Even when her eyes are crying tears of pain you can see honesty leaking from the sides
her eyes
carry with them the weight of a world awash in wickedness
But she sees no mess, only beauty
no bad shit from people going batshit for inconsequential things
like cars and diamond rings
no
She sees the openness of a child's smile and wonders why
adult teeth so rarely treat themselves to a day in the sun
she sees the glow of a young couple's laughter and wonders why
swinging singles feel the need to succeed as one
she sees the sacrifice that soldier fathers offer to their courageous sons and daughters
and wonders why
the only thing most people do is run
from their fears
so in her tears
she carries pain and passion, truth and a penchant
to see passive people pick up their pens and chart courses for new and different lands
can't you see her?
She
is on the face of every child who has ever dared to imagine that Never Neverland is but a fairy's dust flight away
She's in the narrow path of the young high school graduate who has not been led astray
She's in the faces and names, the places and games, of the everyday everybodies who find grace unashamed in something as simple as stopping to smell the sweet scent of freshly fallen raindrops on rose petals
She
is you
and you
is me
and we
are us
and in us
there is nothing but truth
grace
and everlasting beauty
so fly free
for the collective is nothing more than a worldwide family
of dreamers and hopers and shakers and lovers and she
that woman who carries in her eyes the truth of a thousand worlds
She inhabits just this one
and urges onlookers daily to exhibit truth in their eyes and search out falcons in flight
for so as the hunting bird soars, does the eye truly achieve its sight.

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 14

14/30

They roam the streets at night, looking for love and change in all the wrong places
They are society's forgotten, begotten
We've gotten
So apt at forgetting the inept steps that echo in the alleyways behind us
I long for a day when the lost children of ghosts
reclaim their place as runners in this human race
keeping pace with the weak and the broken
thieves
have so long deceived these into believing in false dreams and
wolf-sheep
so until the day dumpsters are only known as homes for waste
I'll waste my days making hasty plans for this caste of misunderstood faces
training wasted breaths to join the furious paces of society's spaces
playing cards of face while withholding all the aces
Brace for it.

Revolution will ring through these streets like church bells at weddings and funerals
and society will rue the day it chose money over man,
and bread over brother
and when the battle is peaked and they turn on one another
the fat cat systems that run banks and stash cash will burn
while god and God sit silently by,
exchanging looks and laments of lost love while
weeping as an infant
for its mother.

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 13

13/30

It is not for love that the crazy man spits in the face of strangers
It is not for truth that the high school drop out finds solace in the dregs of his father's forgotten forty
It is not for peace that young urban cats strap up and head downtown, shooting up and getting locked down
It is not for hope that the weary worker buys himself another round
That the deaf man hears nothing but sound
That the fox runs far from the bloodhound
But leads his hunter into a fast trap that he's dug in the ground
No
It is for reality.
Reality that life will always be but a fleeting story or a distant memory
We who attempt to lead fairy tale lives with story book endings
failing to see that the bad guy wins
every time.
And you don't ever get Megan Fox or Brad Pitt in this movie, no.
And so it goes.
Reality bites hard when fantasy fools you into falling for her
And it pulls no punches when you become enthralled in the jargon of dreamers
It hurts, and it hits
and it hurts
and it hits
and it hurts
and it hits
but truth is
Fantasy and dreams are the only thing keeping this planet together
So whatever come, be it high or stormy weather
through the toughest trials and worst endeavours
Be the first to never ever
give in
to reality.

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 12

12/30

It is the circle where judgment goes to die
while judges hold trial from without
soldiers do battle from within
for is not art war, and poetry the weapon?
Our struggle is one struggle
our passion one pain
the rainbow shines for all after the rain
so to those who pose that our poetry
is not welcome in the city
come to the circle
where warriors fight their fight
with the grace and strength of light and life and you'll see
that the circle is not only a manifestation of revolution manifestos
but the you, the me, the we behind the incendiary nature of legendary poetry.
I am.
Are you?

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 11

11/30

There is hope in the waning light of the death of day
when the light of day retires for moon's glow to come out and play
they say
the day
is for heros and honest men
and the night is for villains
and if that be the case then I
lend my fight to the bad guys
make sure no white spies
see the glint in these brown eyes
I
wanted to fight the good fight for the good side
but was mighty slighted when they told me
my skin and hair was of the enemy
see
in God's army the captains know no colour
no melanin-infused hue do they keep in mind
just the skill of art and will of heart
I guess you could call them
colourblind
so hate on, haters
for the only one I answer to is the divine Creator
who has fixed wings of gold to my back
so I might attack with the mindset of a wolf pack
imagine that
the day when you turn to face your slaves
only to find a rebel army waiting in the wings
with a hundred thousand voices strong to sing:

This is a call to arms
Gather soldiers
Time to go to war
This is a battle song
Brothers and sisters
Time to go to war.

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 10

10/30

I carry back-pocket poetry like cash
doper than that hometown hash that I rep when I roll
Up
Respect the rules
Life is not all for fools and those that glitter are not always jewels
But fools gold
Sold like disease
But me
I see through loopholes and dishonest men
They will all perish in the end
When life eventually comes again

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 9

9/30

This is for the ones that the world hasn't broken
Who go through life with the vigor of five-year-olds
and the wisdom of grandmothers.

Those who chase the winds of change
and refuse to wade through rivers of regret
because looking back on the past with nothing but fondness
is not forgetting that fighting spirits are forged in flames.

This is for those who refuse to believe that their dreams cannot be achieved
Who stand at the peak of mountaintops shouting we can succeed
For those who see the need to bleed every once in a while
Because pain only makes the day seem brighter when you eventually smile

For the child who sits at the back of the class bursting with schemes and daydreams
Who scales trees and splashes in small streams while his peers play shoot-em-ups on flat-screen TVs
For the mother who packs her kids love to eat
These

Are the ones that the world has yet to break
So align yourselves with them for yourself's sake
For when the floods come and foundations of earth shake
These are the guardians that humanity will choose to wake.

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 8

8/30

More kicks than Jet Li
yet my hype is so weak
like an early decade pop song
with drum machine beat
They never told me I was born to shine
But told me I was born to cry
Born to whine
Like the squeals
from Farmer Old Mcdonald's swine
Swag is for dummies
and rocks are for honeys
And fitteds for those who fit too well into a box
to ever be considered rebels with a cause
listen
the only place that style will bring us
is apathy.

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 7

7/30

For the man who sits on the street corner begging for life to be dripped into his cup
For the man who shakes at the urinal waiting for the barrel to be placed to his head
For the man who sells his soul to sell more stock
For the man who talk to himself on the bus just to get a reaction from the girl next to him
For the man who drags himself out of bed at 4 to drag his son to hockey at 5 and his daughter to swimming at 6 and from a cigarette at 7 before he punches the clock at 8
For the man who drops out of school to work to support his schooling; irony lives
For the man who finds god behind back alley dumpsters in dark forgotten places
And the man who finds god in the beauty of the smiles of strangers' faces
For the man who finds god in the solitude of a thousand imagined races
And the man who finds god in the numbing normality of his symmetrical daily paces

This is for you.

The forgotten, the bruised, the enslaved, the abused
the loved, the hurt, the underappreciated
Overcompensated, confused
Sacrificial lambs of society's tangle
thank you
for the beauty of being alive
and in the reality of all the fakeness that surrounds
Thank you for giving me a glimpse of hope that abounds
In the out of bound places that reside in our dreams

They are real
And so are you.

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 6

6/30

For glass ceilings to shatter
We must first find the way
to fulfillment
through other forms of validation like
a compliment
Or even the loose facade of friendship
presented in a friend request on facebook
because even though you'll probably never become actual friends
the fact remains that at one point
somebody considered you important enough to want to see your status
If only to see the poet's inspirational abilities alive in an update
Yesterday
I dared to create from my dreams

Manifesting reality from the creative recesses of my mind
And though I'm rarely shook awake or lulled to deeper slumber
by the vividness of my nocturnal wandering
Still I was shocked to see that the products of my sleep
Had produced a picture so divine
that even the glass ceiling could not contain its shine

See, no roof can restrain the sheer will of a people to attain
No repression can it muster that is strong enough to oppress the protesters
No ownership can it obtain over the rising rabble's will to rebel
See rebellion
Falls flat on its face with no aim and no direction
But thrives in the guise of revolution
Solution
Always aim to achieve more than you could have even possibly dared to dream
Never deflect your goals unless you are a goalie
Always raise others up in the eyes of you for it is they who make you strong
And it is they who help the we stand sure all along
So for the sake of a revolution song
Rise up
And shout with heart and feeling
A voice to send the evil ones reeling
We the blessed will continue our quest
To achieve the undared and to become our best
Your walls fall
For tonight, the infinite sky is our ceiling
And glass has been blown by humanity's breath
into unbeing.

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 5

5/30

Cowed
To be anything less
Would have been an honest facade
In the presence
Of such greatness

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 4

4/30

There once was a fidgety mole
Who dug himself into a hole
Oh what will I do
Cried the mole, oh so blue
As he wept from the depths of his soul.

There once was a ravenous snake
His appetite he couldn't shake
No matter how much
That he swallowed for lunch
It just wasn't enough for his sake.

One day the snake went for a crawl
And heard the mole's pitiful call
He slithered on down
To the hole where he found
A fat mole curled up in a ball.

So slithering slowly he crept
To that hole where the little mole slept
Then with a quick sting
He chomp-chomped the whole thing
And then he was full.

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 3

3/30

if lil wayne
is weezy
and drake
is dreezy
where does that leave
jay-z
he can't be jeezy
because jeezy already
IS
jeezy

and who will be sneezy?
or sleazy?
or kan-yeezy?
thug rappers need to stop giving themselves easy names
it's lazy and lets the label lords leech them
easy games
you don't sound the same
so stop
it's annoying

Current Musical Gold: Installment 12

"I like music. It defines life, love, and everything in between. I also happen to have an abnormally ridiculous amount of music in my possession, most of which I listen to very very rarely because I have a tendency to overplay. As in, overkill. As in, when I'm feeling a song I will play that tuneage over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again until I am either sick of it, or it is inducted into my special itunes playlist simply titled LEGENDARY. Many songs have come and gone; only the chosen few have made it to LEGENDARY status. Every so often, because I like to share music that is good, I will post the tracks that I am feeling at the moment - the ones that are on trial to make it to LEGENDARY. Hopefully in this manner, you, my readers, will be able to expose yourself to a broader variety of good music. And who knows - maybe it'll even make your LEGENDARY."

---

Current Musical Gold: Installment 12 (in no particular order)
1. Tomorrow We Will Fly - Sam Hart
2. If Something's Wrong - Aiden Hawken
3. Call to Arms - 30 Seconds to Mars
4. Angel of Death - Immortal Technique
5. Nightingale - Yanni
6. Wake Up - Arcade Fire
7. Count On Me (Cover) - Victor Kim and Cathy Nguyen
8. Oil and Water - Three Little Birds
9. Stop For a Minute ft. K'naan - Keane
10. Dear Slim pt. 2 - KJ-52
11. 4th Biggest City - Kid Famous

As usual, the messiest mixture of musical magic that has ever been assembled. Be blessed, kids.

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 2 (another poem)

2.5/30

Sigmund Freud
is a fraud
and Thomas Mann
Man, he's a snob

All in all
I think english literature is
effectively ruined
by the presence of these
two higher mental forms

I'd like to play them in football
And crush them

Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 2

2/30

If I could speak
to nietzsche
I would ask him

What did I ever do to you
To make you do to me
What you are doing

I hate you
For so many more
reasons than just one

And if this
is hell
then you are in the right place

but then again
So am i.

30/30 - Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 1

So November is 30/30 month, a challenge to poets everywhere to write thirty poems, one per day, for the duration of November. While I'm also taking on No Shave November, I figured I'd try out 30/30 as well, if only to see what kind of free write material I can come up with when I'm more used to sitting down and hammering out 3-minute slam pieces.

So, consider this a test. Of my skills as a writer, my perseverance as a person, my faithfulness as a blogger, and my thoughts as a being.

Enjoy.
-----
1/30

I seek solace
in the boom-box beats that beat out bass for days
They
Said hip-hop was not me
That I could never be
Hip-hop
Because legitimately?
Hip-hop is regulated to those who know what they speak in their prose

They
Called me a young poet on the rise
Big-size
Poems in a big way
Big day
When he hit the big pay, in the way he captured minds and hearts but
Poetry is not hip-hop
Or so they say.

But all I see when I survey these
Blank book pages before me
Is a canvas for me to paint sheets
Of words so elite
That even the mighty will hear
And their wills become weak
See

I'm not a big shiny rapper rapping
Bling bling in my teeth calling money shots
From bars and abandoned parking lots
Not
A sold-out played-out playboy
Who fiddles with Autotune like his latest musical toy
Just
A young poet slowly growing to own it and know that
His gift is more than just a God-given talent
That is
Challenge it
And life will be forever more just a foe that you do battle with

And victory
Over haters and hatred
Is just inches away
From the face of the One
Who stated it.