Lazy Lids

Holding up lazy lids are tired eyes.
Behind the tired eyes is a racing mind.
In the being of a mental giant.
Who isn’t compliant, but vigilant.
Their weakness is their strength.
the scent sweeter than flowers,
Attracting caterpillars,
Digesting laughter that melts deep into the stomach and gives life to butterflies.
In an instant these feelings can corrode the heart.
Too many smiling faces, can’t seem to tell them apart.
Unless its by the role they’ve assumed, now you’ve become the ass, but never wanted to play in the first place.
Ain’t nothing wrong with losing….sometimes.

Healing Young Hearts : Optimistcally Faithful

Have you ever seen a child’s heart break?


When the ‘Mom’ is taken out of the ‘My’


The only thing left from the’ Daddy’, is ‘Y’.


When we can only escape hurt through our dreams,

but we cant decipher why a Disney movie is not like real life,

Why haven’t we received our fairytale ending?


Y is he so absent-minded?


Its like sometimes he forgets get’s he’s apart of us,

like he harbors some type of animosity towards U & I,

but we are only children.


Have you ever seen a child’s heart break?


When once familiar faces, soon fade into the distance and become unidentifiable,

but still s huge amount of love resides, in one of the empty spaces of our hearts.


Have you ever seen a child’s heart break?


When we feel that pain, and nobody can heal it, except the touch of my mother?


Have you ever seen a child’s heart break?


When they antagonize our matriarch,

Invade our happiness,

and hijack us again…only this time for our Brother.



We haven’t grieved.


We paint this picture with watercolor,

because the turmoil of our lives mixed with our tears are full with confusion.

and created a paint so thick, only we retain the brushes to retell our tribulation.


And in this picture, we paint ourselves,


We’re are anticipating the next visit from our Mommy in our dreams.

We’re awaiting the re-embrace of our brother.

We’re hanging onto the hope that our father, soon realizes we are only innocence duplicates of himself he sees in our face.


But we are confused, because others refuse to believe our family is heartbroken.

Yes, we are comforted by our ‘Na-na’, because that is where the unconditional love is everlasting

The Root Our Faith & Strength.


You see it?


Frame it.


So the next time you’re asked,

“Have you ever seen a child’s heart break?”


What will you reply?

Because we are only one story, the anguish of one family…


Think of all the millions more.


With Love,

 –The Heart Broken



Mirrored Silouhettes [pt2]

I’m falling back but I don’t feel anyone behind me. Im trying break my fall but I’m breaking every other bone in the process.


My mind is trying to process these thoughts, separate the good from the bad.


Trying to decipher the tears from the smiles. And the confusion from the laughter.


Life’s taking:

the Sweetness out my Satisfaction.

the Dreams out of my Sleep.


Its safe to say…

I’m lost. I’m misunderstood.

I don’t know what to do

for myself, but

I continuously do for others.


I know what I want.

I yearn for what I need.

I am thankful for what I have…maybe I am selfish,



I wish people could just read my mind.

The good and the bad thoughts.

I wish people could just see what I see.

The potential and the fuck ups.


I just want to find me.

I am surround with people that adore me.


I haven’t found me and accepted myself for what I see, acknowledging what I want to be,

Go to sleep.



because its KILLING ME.



Restless Nights

Another restless night

Woken up by the constant coughing that’s been going on for months.

A mind racing to beat the thoughts of loneliness.

Sprint to the bathroom

and rinse your face with the melting ice from your heart.

Look in the mirror into the eyes that scream dedication.

Clean the tongue that swallows all the sweet & sour lies.

Wipe the mouth that thirst for affection.

Wash the disappointment from your face

Back to Bed.

Using the pillow cover the ears...the walls keep calling.

Keep the lights off…

Darkness is Misery’s Best Friend.

Slip into a deep coma.

Dreams become an euphoria; then you awake and

Begin the battle with nightmares…Also.Known.As Reality.


Daily Dream

I’m sitting on the steps, blazing with the breeze

Clouds blending with the blue sky, fragrance you can see.

Eyes sitting lower than depression on its knees.

Mix the greens in the bowl, that’s healthy choice by me

Thoughts more vivid than High Definition.

Lames thinking they’re Wiz Kids, put up false images…smoke screens.

Stomach growling like a bear, but all the food I am dismissing.

My imagination’s hungry, and Leighricks creativity looks fixing.

Aroma sweet like swishers, after a Kobe Bryant shot.

I took the safety off, jump the gun

Spontaneity =  the Death of Bordem.

I kiss the ground I walk on, so I kiss my mother goodbye.

Strap myself into my spaceship, ready to take flight…

I’m soaring past the planets, lighting up with the sun.

Playing with the aliens, hide-n-go-seek in the clouds.

Cruising through the solar system,

Munching on a Milkyway…

Fell asleep counting stars on a satellite.

I open my eyes and I’m,

sitting on the steps, blazing with the breeze

Clouds blending with the blue sky, fragrance you could see.

Eyes sitting lower than depression on its knees.

Others wish my dreams were their reality, a Day & Night Dream.

This dream is day-to-day

I call this a Daily Dream….same dream different day.



When Dreams Become Reality

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.


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..


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.


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.



That Chaotic, Leighrickal, Young Lady C.


When dreams become reality
When dreams become reality

For My Brothers, For My Family

Hollow tips enter full bodies, and empty them.

As the bullet rips the flesh, it’s also stripping the body from the soul.

The victim has passed; not only in presence, but through papers as another statistic.

The consequences of a coward,

we have to live with, walk these very same streets.

His mind has been brainwashed. They’ve purposely left out all the coloreds.

Holding the steal he feels like Iron-man, but without it he is weak.

Pulling that trigger is as easy as taking candy from a baby, but

does this coward know he just took this baby away from his mom.

My ego is fierce with poise full of culture.

I am tired of living through the peephole fighting not to be another victim of hatred.

I am tired of stray bullets finding a home within our own children.

Bullets may not have names on them, but they take innocence of the ones they enter.

I am tired of looking over my shoulder, because I have a permanent crook in my neck to go along with the knifes in my back.

Eyes follow me down the street.

Am I a crook because Im wearing my hood on my head? –Its cold

Am I a crook because I’m carrying candy? — I have a little sibling at home.

am I a crook because I’m holding a drink? — I am thirsty?


Am I a crook because of the color of my skin?

The difference is they wear hoods that  cover their heads.

You can still see their color, but  that they may hide their faces in consciousness of shame.

Lacking Color

A Color?

A “Color” everyone can see past except for them, because they still got that damn sheet over their heads.

I had a dream last night.

I marched to the most immense Bell with my hoodie on, and Granted justice for all Kings, Queens, & Martins.

I was tackled to the ground and handcuffed.

I would be easier to handle.

I didnt just get married, I am not a child (though someones), nor do I have one.

Everyone took a shot, but we’re taking the bullets for their

“Self Defense”.

Tell me — Do they call it self defense because we are strong, and will not helplessly tolerate oppression?

Before you pull the trigger; do you even second guess it?

Is there  really so much hate that you become absent-minded?

Because of their loathing lack of souls,

Everyday I am reminded of the death of My Brothers.

Hughes, Dunbar, Walker, Angelou, Giovanni, Baldwin, Brooks, El-Shabazz, Shakur

They came to me and requested I speak for the people.

They sat me down, I listened, and though they only spoke to me in poetry I gained an inner-standing of each and every stanza they’ve written.

Having me stand tall with my head up.

They woke me up in my dream, God woke me up this morning, but I came alive in this poem.

Oscar Grant, I stand strong for my brother.

Sean Bell, I stand strong for my brother.

Trayvon Martin, I stand strong for my brother.

 I Stand Strong for My Family.

I hope they hear my prayers while comforting each other, realizing they are not alone.

How long will it take for their families to heal?…

Until they’re all called home?

Murder is theft, and if these killer aren’t convicted of one, how about the other?


Instead of pouring this libation on the floor out of respect,

I’ll drink it because they didnt have the chance to.

Better, I will share the candy with our family; who didn’t have a chance to see them come home.

Unable tell them once last time they loved them.




Beaten though Kings & Queens, and still



 – I AM Vigilant Leighrick, Poetic Renegade