Category: Dapper Suits

These are post within various categories. Enjoy !

Half Asleep With a Full Mind

Posted in Life, Manhood or Womanhood, Pieces of Poetry, The Great CrossingTagged , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

No Sleep makes me feel anxious.

Am I anticipating life, is this dangerous?

Certain thoughts keep replaying.

Falling asleep in 30min increments.

I now understand why sleep is the cousin of death.

Maybe that’s why I’m afraid? T

he explanation of so many nights spent wide wake?

Regret must be the kin as well.

I attempt to adopt Confidence.

Never think your too good for your past it shaped you?

[ Fuck That ! ]

Trying to ignore these sleepless nights,

every thing is fake; like that one day of the year in April.

That’s it !

My minds playing tricks on me again, and has the seasons confused.

This is winter, hibernate…?

Retracing steps back, to clean up tarnished dreams.

Instead my mind is freezing; because the blood I’m pumping is really cold,

I’d say about below 0°.

My eyes open wide shut, paralyzed…

Stuck — trying to define my own destiny.

Trying — to convince myself its not my baggage?

Its not my fault?

—

I didn’t deserve it?

Visions pretty foggy; the sun stopped shining.

I know a change is gone come,

I just don’t know if I can wait for it.

I gotta find a peace of mind;

How do I do that when I’ve lost a piece of my mind?

People talk about a race against time?

I am in a race to get mine —

Forget the paper chase, I fucked around and lost my mind.

Sometimes I feel like grabbing a piece, throwing the peace, then disappearing.

Lost in time, lost in feelings, it seems I’ve lost my touch.

I cant feel the peace within me, just pressed against me.

Shoot all thoughts of negativity that associates itself with me.

But —

I sit back and cool down.

Shaded in the background.

Summer will make its way around eventually.

No sleep makes me feel anxious…

Maybe I’m asking too much?

Maybe just a nap will do.

If only I had one wish…..

Unfortunately, Life is repetitive.

I’m no longer giving a “Fuck”, but I was generous enough to give you this poem to reflect on.

-Leighrick

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MAP #1

Posted in Dapper Suits, Free Writes, Thoughtful BlurbsTagged Leave a comment

I just wanted to write something simple and save the complex reading to the magazines. I fiend for my dreams, yet it seems I am always a dollar short. Trying to contort these words in to phrases that resonates in deaf ears and describes life to those without the ability to see. The world just ain’t black and white, especially during the spring. When it’s cool to laugh at fools, and the shine from the sun isn’t hiding when mother is crying. The moon walks the earth, and stars are being shot for no cinematic reason. Reasoning is for the weak, I only reason once a week, because its either do or die where I’m from. It may sound cliche, but in south central there’s no in between. No room for contemplating. I’ll have seconds with that thought, you may be still be complicating. Con fused [with] revolutionary. Street smart so you can call my pieces maps instead of literary. Subliminal messages that go deeper than submarines, wouldn’t go to war for oil, but you just might lose one for this ink. Conflicting popular belief this Life shit ain’t really about me, its for the ones with their heads up questioning me. Like, WHY DOES THE WORLD KEEP BREAKING MY HEART! My 5 year old best friend screams. Already learning that love is unconditional but today and tomorrow isn’t everlasting. Cartoons and cereal, with no milk, and suddenly you learn problem solving just trying to eat. Seriously, what does all this even mean? You keep adding only for it to be subtracting what you really need. What is it that we really need? I keep looking for the truth, because I kept getting told it’ll set me free. I feel myself getting old, I think this is all apart of mental slavery. We need healing, but have to give our life savings just for a Doctorate Degree? FUCK THAT. All i need is Hempathy. I criss-cross applesauce my legs, inhale the light, exhale the darkness and let my ancestors speak. I know I’m touching on a lot of subjects, something like the SAT, so avoid me if you like but that wont help you succeed. All you want is the money, the cars, and the clothes, but the money cant buy you tape to patch the holes you get from trying to escape. There is no debate about it I am a cold one, I wouldn’t give 2 fucks if they jumped in my lap in the form of a child and asked me to hold them. Welcome to the mind of a giant disguised as Yoda.

–Leighrick

R.I.P

Posted in Free Writes, Life, Pieces of PoetryTagged , , Leave a comment
If people only knew, they would never want to know…

Today we stand before you camera ready.

BURN ALL THE BOOKS, to hell with them.

and us…and knowledge….and trust.

If people only knew, they would never want to know…

Said the ones laying under you, nurturing the growth of the grass.

TO HELL WITH THEM

and us, and faith, and intuition.

Restore our faith in institutions…Restore our faith in institutions

If I knew, I wouldn’t break the silence.
If I knew, I wouldn’t stop the violence.
If I knew you, and you came across wisdom…you’d be dead too.

Imagination translates into tomorrows.

R.I.P
R.I.P

Remembrance is Power.

–Leighrick

99 Problems and the Answer is 1

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You know, sometimes I ask my self, “Why do I even bother?”.

I mean in all serious where does being a good person ever get you in life; besides a grave? In the end your spirit and soul is left feeling “substantial“so to speak, but how does one even know? How do I know that the bullshit I endure for the sake of other people is even beneficial? Now, don’t get me wrong I’m not looking for anything in return, but how much easier is it to be a good person now and die; than to die and become a good spirit?

Death, death is so often viewed as the dark side. As much as I am taunted, and taunt myself. I find that I cannot take the steps to even think of being selfish. However to you that may seem absurd.

I mean honestly, I venting about a situation in which dirt is being thrown on my name, by individual(s) who I’ve gone out my way to protect.

Yet, MY faith is QUESTIONED, because I do not seek the wisdom through the words of the bible? On the other hand, no questions are asked about priests who molest young children, and then go on to damn people to hell for being homosexuals?!?!?! How is one so sure that these words in the bible are those spoken from God? Himself? Herself?

I know, I already know you’re thinking “how dare [I] even throw that [her] in?”. I was told that the reassurance of those who believe in his words are recognized and strengthened through faith. Now if the fate of “man“, and the world’s being is rested upon faith, then why can’t I be equipped with the will, knowledge, love, wisdom and the strength of FAITH to trust my own intuition?  An intuition that is said to be “God given” and has proved me correct far more times than the bible.

There are no different versions of spirituality, faith, and ancestry, besides within the story of an individual; yet there are among hundreds and thousands of versions of the bible. GODS WORD. How many ways can God’s words be written and interpreted to be correct, beside the correct way in which he said himself?

Within self I find God[ess’]. Why limit myself to one? I often think about this, but I usually fall asleep and start my day before I can ponder on an answer.

I know I have gone completely off topic, but this entry is solely to vent.

Are you comprehending?

VENT because FRANKLY, I’m 2 years past through with being fucked over. Sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice, is all I’ve know. It’s what I’ve read, and heard, and taught myself because with all great things comes sacrifice. Or so its known to be,  and here I am dying. Still I some how find it unexpected?!

Fool me once, shame on you – Fool me twice, I’m the fool.

Since a child I’ve sat in this very same house inquiring about life, death, and life after death.  Wondering, after death is it possible that an ill soul can become well? If so I may start inching towards the darkness myself, because all this light I am in taking is so often blinding.

Ultimately, I have nothing to show for what I’ve done. I practice, and practice, and practice, and preach and teach, and think and sit and become enraged.  This  absolutely sickens me! It gives me headaches, produces tears I have to fight along with battling yelling so  loud that l I am deaf. Not having to hear anyone else bullshit, but stuck with my own internally?

Though I refuse, because already I am driven almost insane by my own questions.

Is that why I am so good with helping others? “Problem Solving”.

Would this be labeled neglect?

I just want to know why the “good people” are always fucked over. I mean honestly, who has a real answer to any of this? That’s where the frustration stems. ARE THERE REALLY EVEN ANY ANSWERS?!

WHAT IS THIS LIFE SHIT?!

Life long questions that pass throughout lifetimes are handed down to dwell on. This philosophy course isn’t doing a damn thing to help me understand spontaneous death.

I am really pissed right now.

You try believing you can talk to some people, you give em an inch and they take a mile, but distance isn’t the problem.

WHAT IS THE PROBLEM?!……[THE ANSWER.]

Fucking Shit.

–Leighrick

The Grand Exit

Posted in First Love, Pieces of PoetryTagged , , , , , Leave a comment

The last time I remember you; I saw your body sideways leaving out the door.

Last night still had my mind in a daze; I’m sitting up this morning in my bed remembering the days you remembered me.

When the nights went into the mornings; it was clear to me that this love was Satan’s miracle.

I loved the hell out of you, now Ive met my pinnacle.

Those lips smiled, those pearly gates parted, and out crept the blues

“You missed me didn’t you?”

Feeling like the drum getting played in this solo.

Meaning you were never present for today’s, but I could always count on you for “couldn’t waits”.

Waiting for your call; do you really wonder why I am up so late? I contemplate.

Why must these trees and these lakes of liquor complicate things?

Standing in the shower wishing it’d bring the heat, and rain harder.

That the radio and the water would some how create thunder, and electrify my spirit –

Free Me.

From this being I love to be in me, but cant stand being apart of.

That’s not love. That’s not lust. Was there really never any trust?

This relationship has rusted. Quickly we are sinking.

Me deeply and you wallow in the shallow end.

But I still pretend that we’re just friends, with the benefits of exercising passion.

So as I am laying here watching you walk out;

Like damn Y? X is the reason.

Seasons change. Feelings stay the same, except this time…

I am the one leaving.

Peace,

–Leighrick

When Dreams Become Reality

Posted in Illumination, Manhood or Womanhood, Pieces of PoetryTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

When Dreams Become Reality

 

This evening…

I found my imagination in the back of my mind.

I’m feeling remorse;  I should have listened to my conscience.

My creativity was knocking on my temple.

Tylenol, shut it up…

Now my hearts paying for it.

I closed my eyes, covered my ears, and listened to my soul cry.

 

I traveled my  medulla oblongata.

I flinch. My dreams turned into nightmares.

I see my imagination lay wasted thin like water.

Fuck!

Paralyzed mind.

My conscience has become the new Cesar.

 

I look left and my creativity has overdosed on refer.

I look right at the nightmares beating my dreams.

I look behind me, and my conscience shaking.

I can no longer witness this.

I look ahead and my imagination is dead.

 

Insanity has sunk in.

 

This is absent Schizophrenia.

I don’t know who I am.

Because of this is Bipolarity;

I can’t choose a feeling!

 

Living poison.

My words are tainted.

My tongue is numb.

My heart is ignorant.

Have I gone blind?

 

Am I jeopardizing my own purity?!

 

Pen to my head.

Placing notebook paper down to surround myself.

I’m making my bed.

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder; I’m terrified by making a mess.

 

Leighrick is whispering in my ear,” Chaotic just go through with it“.

 

How did she know that about me?

Who told her my first name?

 

“I can’t do this anymore!”

I don’t know what I’m saying.

 

My history is spilling out my closet.

My conscience turned the lights on.

I look left and right forgetting I’m blind.

I stop and listen..

FUCK!

I hear myself dying!

 

Jumping out the bed; I vomit.

I feel around for my inspiration; turns out that’s what filled the sink!

I vomit again.

Except when I flushed the toilet, along with the rejection went my dreams.

 

I leave the red lit room.

Trying to feel my way back;

The walls disintegrate around me.

 

I collapse on my bed.

Place the pen in my hand.

If I’m already dying inside, who’ll appreciate  what’s left?

Beauty is within, but so is deception.

 

Chaotic is talking to me, “Don’t do it Leighrick“.

Leighrick is yelling at me, “Wait, I thought I was Candace?!”

Candace is screaming to both of them, “I’m going through with this. I don’t know who I am!!”

 

Leighrick says, “You’re Chaotic”

Chaotic says, “You’re Candace”

Candace says, “Shut the fuck up! Fuck! I’m losing it!!”

 

I lay upon my bed of paper.

With a red pillow behind my head.

I want to disguise the blood; for whomever may find me.

They won’t be freaked out when realizing I’m dead.

 

I put the pen to my head.

“Pop…”

Goes the trigger.

 

Ink consumes my body.

My soul is released.

 

The next morning there’s knockin’ on my door.

The knocks go unanswered…their whispers fade,

“shhh, we should just let her sleep.”

 

The poet lays at peace.

 

Just in case you didn’t notice, I committed homicide with the piece.

 

Next time you’ll know not to judge, but

Instead to stop to let the poet speak.

 

Sincerely,

That Chaotic, Leighrickal, Young Lady C.

 

When dreams become reality
When dreams become reality

Open Door Policy

Posted in Pieces of PoetryTagged , , , , , , Leave a comment

You left the door open.

I’m not sure if you know;

I’m peeping through windows,

Seeing if your alone.

I’m one foot in and one foot out

The closer you approach,

My heart starts beating faster.

Do I have time to run away?

Should I stay and tough it out?

I can’t forget what it’s like to be in the same room as you…

We don’t have to speak,

Because we make conversation through our eyes.

Let me know, who knows how to Love you like I do?

Who’s one touch can change your mood?

What kind of bullshit have you gotten use to?

If this was 21 questions, would you be truthful?

No matter if it hurt my feelings,

If I step foot in the house…

Should I be prepared to lose you?

A house is not a home,

When I left,

Where you did you find shelter?

Is it in some other womans lap – I mean shack.

I sneak down to the basement;

It’s flooding.

I can see the emotional wreckage.

The foundation’s penetrated deep with inquisitions and incisions.

Concrete cannot be plastered over

This needs to be rebuilt.

The living room is empty,

is there some irony in that?

Long halls decorated with picture perfect memories.

It’s dark back here.

Spider webs and memories collecting dust.

Do you ever roam these feelings, just to reminisce?

I guess you just stay in the front…

I see a names and numbers, but

I wont bothering hurting myself and look.

Composition books spread across the floor,

Balled up papers adorn the table.

In the refrigerator, no more selfish left to make meals?

Cups half empty, very few half full.

Dishes and dirty laundry piled up like secrets.

I saw your notebook,

Willingly with restraint to look in it.

Wondering what lays next to it.

What I mistook for empty syringes, were just empty pens,

With my picture underneath.

It’s time to leave,

Rekindling feelings of vulnerable.

In this crib,

Where once my baby and I slept.

And overslept,

And sexed,

And cried,

And laughed,

And ate,

And wrestled,

And argued,

And I packed,

And it. . . .rained.

Crying silently, I creep out.

Trying my best not to leave traces

Showing that I revisited this house…

Just as my body is half way out the door,

My hand is snatched

…and it’s yours.

You ask me to stay a while,

I can’t even look you in your face.

Instead I look down, because my eyes give me away.

Identical with my heart, my voice cracks.

You found me, but I am at a loss for words.

Uncertainty about  how I should feel.

Should I smile or should I slap you?

We both felt the pain, that our mistakes could never amount to.

But forgiveness is a drug,

I can’t help to self prescribe.

Nevertheless I leave..

My hand slipping out of yours slowly,

I try to look back but I refuse,

Is this Deja Vu?

Everything’s moving so fast,

In an instance I’m nowhere near you, but with time —

With time I’m your next door neighbor.

I’m sitting in my living room, half past dead

Watching other people live their realities in shallow misery, just to have intuition left to comfort me

And you call me..

We talk

And then you talk for hours.

I got the flowers you’d leave on my doorstep.

You offer me dinner,

I’m not sure if my heart can afford yet..

A sacrifice, I am not sure I’m willing to take

Instead – I say, “maybe“.

Eventually,

I ask you over my place for lunch.

You agree…

This isn’t a happy ending,

I am hardly satisfied.

I would like to know,

Who loves you like I do?

Or should’ve

Or would’ve

Or could’ve

Or doesn’t?

Honestly…Did I even know how to?

–Leighrick