Category Archives: Life

The Miseducation of the misunderstood

The Miseducation of the misunderstood

Harbors overwhelming anxiety

Which creates layers underneath the shell

Always home like tortoise, but

I am a nomad in my own body.

The feeling of loneliness sets in every time one of my personalities decide to leave.

I am wandering

Invested in a venture that is company to misery.

I declare communicative bankruptcy.

Do me the service of sending all my messages

This misinterpreted status will be one for the books.

Face it —

Who are we without the royalties in freedom of speech?

Too many unwritten rights you have, that wasn’t taught to me.

Do you know me?

Do I know you?

How valuable is identity to a thief?

The only benefit in this hijacking

Is the doubt that you will actually understand that…

I volunteered, but I never asked.

Never raised my hand in class.

So many questions that still need an answer

So many answers that should be questions.

What will be the solution?

It seems I’m the problem.

I am a weapon – non lethal

A dangerous mind shooting stars

Trynna reach the moon, cause I was told that’s as far as love can go.

I am a victim of time!

Trapped behind the bars in the same cage the bird sung.

Those melodies still linger.

The ink blots begin to show.

I think it’s bleeding through!

I use to dream in cursive until…

Murder she wrote.

Now it’s killing me softly.

The standard is to understand

The extreme is to overstep.

The Miseducation of the misunderstood can’t be taught only felt.

-Leighrick

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The Last Train, Until…

Picture ya life on the subway –
Labeled a runaway.
Always taught to chase dreams, but catching them was never imagined.
On the train til infinity, where every malfunction exceeds a boundary.
The sky ain’t the limit, its the ticket.
What’s the difference?
I can see beyond the colors of the prism.
I have touched many moons.
Floating – weightless –
Patient.
Healing myself, still doctoring the wounds from when they severed the ties to my portal.
The only home I’ve known, now it just seems as if love don’t live here no more…
So I roam.
Telling the streets my secrets.
Leaving tattoos when I spit the words penetrate the skin.
The concrete cracks.
A Rose emerges.
The train door closes before I even look back…
I pricked myself on the thorns, I wail as the horn sounds…I realize
My overstanding reality is under attack.
-Vigilant Leighrick

Broken Open

Still in a room,
A broken mirror reflects flawless smiles of all those that once stared before it.
Gleaming eyes looking for themselves in fragments of light.
I can’t yet see through.

Walking…
My tears and the street lights create stained glass.
Looking at memories abandoned in pictures, and the pain that is sheltered, buried, and concealed in temples.

Implicitly.

Shattered and now broken open.

I pick up the pieces with the roughest edges first.
I cut myself — countless times.

It hurts not to scream!
As a child you are taught that silence is comforting,
Explicitly a fools gold, a dastardly violence.

The blood has been contaminated with secrecy.
Life’s own mystery;
What good is the knowledge of hystori if the truth never gets told?

Exposed.
Undressing wounds
I see myself in rare form….beautiful….
Vulnerable.

This bigger picture envisioned is actually a puzzle;
we are each others pieces.
There are no borders, filters, nor frames….
Regardless not everyone fits, still you are..

Limitless…

-Leighrick

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Coroner on the Corner

This one here is for
The little boy in the corner,
The little boy on the corner,
The little boy in the coroner,

The man in the mirror is
some bodies little boy, somebodies little boy.

Crying shame,
Try Finding strength.
Crying bullets, not in range, but enraged.
No tears at all, because no bodies there to catch them
Nobody is here to listen.

Foreign to intuition.
Imperiled by institutions.

You said you had my back, but them you caught me with a knife.

This one here is for
The little boy in the corner,
The little boy on the corner,
The little boy in the coroner,

The man in the mirror is
some bodies little boy, somebodies little boy.

Idle body.
Absent mind.
Hidden in the darkness.
Played follow the leader and was misguided.

This is for you kid!

All through life you grow up hearing,
“Don’t do anything stupid”
But in every experience you obtain knowledge.

Lend them your soles to walk in, so
They may feel the exhaustion, and
Be aware of the mileage.
Only look back to see how far you’ve come, then
Keep moving forward.

This one here is for
The little boy in the corner,
The little boy on the corner,
The little boy in the coroner,

The man in the mirror is
some bodies little boy, somebodies little boy.

Life seemed so simple, when you use to play with toys
Now some of these toys make a much different noise.
That can take time away in the form of lives.
That cannot be reborn, because this is not a video game.

A spectator let loose in a playas game..

This one here if for
The little boy who needs his mamas kiss,
The little boy who needs his fathers attention.
The little boy who yearns for love and affection.

From the cradle to the grave

Pour out a little liquor, keep swallowing the pain.

this little boy looking in the mirror trying to teach himself to be a man.
How to withstand the loneliness by himself, looking for a shoulder to lean on.
The ridicule of the free man telling him to jump, but he knows
Deep inside he hasn’t felt his wings growin’.

Be in control of emotions.
Retain focus.
Push yourself and you may be able to help someone else,
Keep going.

Life is a test of your patience and gratefulness.

King your time will come.
Build your empire with wisdom
Your heart of gold will make your bloodline rich.

This one here is for
The little boy in the corner,
The little boy on the corner,
The little boy in the coroner,

The man in the mirror is
some bodies little boy, somebodies little boy.

All the tears you accumulated are meant to,
Get you through the hardships.
Establish relationships.
Discover true friendship.
Your battleship is sacred.

This one here is for
The little boy in the corner,
The little boy on the corner,
The little boy in the coroner,

The man in the mirror is
some bodies little boy, somebodies little boy.

Smiling.

til Kingdom-come.

-Leighrick

Slice of Life

Slice of Life

As a toddler I use to wonder if the birds could hear my thoughts.
That the dew on the grass was from trees crying, because they felt lonely.
Watching the sun set ablaze these cotton polluted skies.
The moon arrives.
With the slight waves of a breeze, kissing my skin.
Transporting chills through backward columns.
Lips against the pavement;
What I witnessed was not specific to any hue.
My silver lining was love, in the shadow of a larger portrait.

Eye got my I’s peeled
Fixated —
Inspiration.
Intimacy.
Illumination.

I’ve got my eyes peeled.
Wide open.
Inhaling every color.
Recreating Space.

I am the vanished piece
to the puzzle, peace.
Everyone grab a slice.

Don’t be afraid to feel.
Don’t be afraid of the way you feel.

My words may not suffice my thoughts.

Opening my heart parallel with mine eyes.
Uncovered, Unblocked, Unlocked,
Expanding.

Absolute knowledge may intimidate circumstantial courage.
Not frightened by falling, because
I can’t get much lower than understanding.
The wisdom eye seek – deep-seated – [and] overlooked.

The pupil.

Ink is my blood, and I can’t help but leave a trace.
On every canvas —
I’d donate my smile to those with a frown.
Paint murals on sidewalks for those whom walk with their heads down.

Dreams are notes of my existence; which is not a fantasy, because I never sleep.
Visual conversations with my conscience.

I couldn’t fit all my faults in to San Andres, so
the thought of accountability, continues to shake up the world.
The pebbles cast resemble the magnitude of that in a bird pond.

Skipping.

Seeking peace through beats and rhymes.
Eyes fixated –
Insight.
Vigilant.

Gazing souls wander – gawking at redemption.

I remember feeling lost.
Realizing this is the beginning, and scared when it may end.
I never forgot how to pretend.
The make believe, made me believe,
The fates delivered the coup de grâce, at any moment.

With every breath.

I have my eyes peeled on what is coming around the corner.
Kin to Slumber, Grandchild to time, an accomplice of the sandman.

Rubbing eyes,
Crossing t’s.
Decoding p’s and q’s

I want to connect every continent like water.
Leaving no trail to follow, but
enough inspiration to create your own.

I am trying to enhance my view.
Honesty isn’t always as flirtatious poetry.
Occasionally submissive to empathy.

Trying to emulate an open book.
I lay here a diary waiting to be broken open.
Longing for someone to tease & taunt death, because
They know if they ever read it, I’d spread threats with rumors.
Only to have my words tell the story, there are always three sides
Yours, Mines, and the truth.

I never told them I could write,
I never told them they taught me how.
I told myself never to tell them what this really is about.

I’ve got my eyes peeled.
Wide open.
Inhaling every color.
Recreating Space.

I am the vanished piece
to the puzzle, peace.
Everyone grab a slice.

Leighrick

Coaching Habits

Every time we talk, you ain’t trying to listen

Dismissing us because of something you’re missing

Raising our hands, and you continue to not pay attention

Screaming through our actions, not for long will we remain submissive

You play your favorite cards but your poker face isn’t shit

Often times you seem delirious leaving us curious like the

Closer to the edge we run, we see your finger in position

To push us but we are gaining strength, and holding on to one another

but if one let’s go, we’re all falling together

No matter the weather, we fight through the storms

Hailing mockery and name-calling,

Not long will we stand for the belittlement of ourselves.

Too much pride to put aside, often we get beside ourselves.

Between these four walls we continue to tread through hell.

Born champions trying to prevail

Talent quiet like church mice instead your ignorance echoes like a bell.

To the point where it haunts and distracts us mentally.

You find it coincidental that we’re clueless, but only time will tell.

We’re suppose to look up to you, but how when you’re always looking down?

Frowning and whining

We become mad with trembling bodies and eyes cloudy,

we’re biting our tongues so hard, it just might strike lightening.

You’ll probably never read this, but

I hope you find the energy of the thoughts enlightening.

But as the saying goes…

You can’t teach a blind man how to see.

Dear Diary

Trying to emulate an open book.I lay here a diary, waiting to be broken open.
Longing to have my stories leap into someones hands and be embraced –
Instead of hidden.
Recovering old memories, chasing bubbles with siblings and cousins.
My grandparents grass was so green,
All the other sides surrounding were concrete.
Love couldn’t get much better than this.
Sneaking sips of Caprisuns,
“Just reuse the straw”
“I saw another box under the table”
“Great!”
“They shouldn’t miss this one.”

Turn the page and feel my emotions get bullied by words, said by people
I wish I never heard.
Now you’ve met them, and
We share something in common.
Sensitive like the t.v. antenna in the living room.

Trying to emulate an open book.
My house is like a library.
Several books, but even more stories.
I lay here a diary, waiting to be broken open.
Longing for someone to tease death, because they know if they read it,
I’l kill em !
Only to have my words revive their spirit.
I never told them I could write.
I never told them they taught me how.

You’ve skipped pages towards the end,Anxious to see how I turned out.

You left the pages with stains from my heart – faced down.
Discovering my smile in every caricature I draw,
trying to mask my normal frown.
I remember laughing until I cried,
And crying until no one new the difference.
Until it all came alive, and
you realize most of my life have been served through sentences.

The Notebook –You’ve read plenty of love stories and letters.
Every time you see a picture of a broken heart,
You can smell the tears on the page.
Then you come across a hotel I drew to house all of my mistakes,
with extra closet space, just in case my skeletons try to escape.

You can’t feel your body.
Reading these words seem to articulate my fate.
Trying to emulate an open book.
I lie here like a diary, with stories repeated and untold.
Bold truth and white lies.

I can’t be individual by myself.
There’s so many characters in this book;
which story will you choose from?
The author doesn’t change, only the interpretations.

-Leighrick