Just the Pieces

Drowning out city sorrows with Hip-Hop Blues.

Death comes in 3s,

My regrets come in 2s,

You only get 1 life to live, so

Which one should I choose?

Tapping my feet to the beat,

Bass bruising my drums.

I wish I remembered when this city was dust.

Sand storms instead of smog infiltrated clouds.

This city has my heart,

My roots intertwining with those of the trees.

I see my city; thinking I cannot look past the trash,

Atlas, I see the Art and its production of people.

 I sit back and part the pages in my Notebook.

Jotting down lines that paves ways into memory lanes,

I am consuming pens.

Down to my last two,

Thankfully I’m spared a pencil.

As if living isn’t enough,

Living it to the limit is too much.

If I could sing, I’d write a song

Unfortunately I cant.

All I have are these poems.

Pulling my own weight.

At the same time reaching for the stars,

Living in a World,

Where the leaders are manufacturing sugar-coated lies.

While we’re consuming them, free of charge.

Wondering why our blood cant make it all the way to our hearts.

I have ink in my veins, eyes full of pride.

A heart full of love, soulful cries.

I feel this pain in my chest, in the smokiest skies.

A conscience ahead of the naive,

Who are stuck in lies of the past.

That when they arrive to the present,

Surprise!

My smile is mischievous they tell me.

Only because I know what you don’t see, and see what you disregard.

The sky is soon to be falling, and the ground is now breaking.

Welcome Lost Angelinos,

To the Hell as we know it Home.

We’ve dropped from the Heavens in search of Grape vines.

Instead found bittersweet Cactus’, and the strength in Palm Trees.

Babies Crying.

Men Dying.

Women Trying.

STRIVING.

Constantly admiring the homeless.

While everyone’s stuck in their box,

They keep going.

I’ve never seen anyone fight so hard to live, and be ready to die.

Most times when I walk past them

I tend to swallow my pride.

When I need to ask for a of couple dollars,

Shit, I get mad, Im about ready to cry.

When I see them, if I can I give em mine.

Many are abandoned by Love and by Mind.

Lost the fight to drugs, or did the time for the Crime.

Who am I?

Who are You?

Who could we be together?

These thoughts are just the pieces that made this poem come together.

-Leighrick

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