The Day I Die,

Every sidewalk will talk,

and all the trees will dance,

the wind will stop to listen.


When I die,

My mother will re-embrace me,

because I am back home with her.

She will flood the ocean with her tears of rejoice.





On the die I die,

the streets where every secret is toxic

will finally come clean,

and express its unconditional love for me.


The birds will sing me lullaby’s

to put my soul at ease.

As I rest peacefully in the warmth

of my mother bosom.


On the day I die,

is the day I will give back.

Apologize for certain mishaps, and slips,

but certainly the disrespect.


The clouds will part

to make way for my entrance,

and —

at night,

the moon

will be illuminating grotesquely,

symbolizing my spirit.


The day before,

I could smell the birds of paradise,

with an aroma so strong,

they screamed loud enough for me to wake up,

and realize…



The day I die,

I will be home.



Half Asleep With a Full Mind

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.



Chest Piece

Heavy is the head that falls. Sharp are the words that severed it, with memories still embedded. If its one thing we have in common, death we’ll never forget. Who’s next on the chopping block? When that question’s asked, that is when all the chatter stops. People apply fear like sun block; I apply fear as motivation. I cried the river, built the bridge, and I’d be damned if I couldn’t get over it.

Failures always an option when winning is. Even Jesus wasn’t born with faithful witnesses. They can doubt me all they want, but the big picture being talk about is the one I’m painting. Others are finger painting, finger licking, sharing meals with snakes and shaking hands with misanthropes.

I’m a revolutionary whose evolutions wont be cast on reality television. Through my words I tell my visions. Through my vision I see my disposition.

Gone with the wind as my spirits gets lifted. I see they’re trying to shift their point of view in front of me. Their parents weren’t glass makers, still I see translucence. More fickle than straw, please don’t “Hey” me, that’s for horses.

Instead – Namaste, peace be with you and the all positive forces. Red carpet star wars. Battlefields; souls cemented in Hollywood floors. Who can act the realest for our entertainment?

They are tamed with brains washed. I am watching National Geographic studying my roar and picking my main. They said the end is upon us, it’s probably just a commercial break. Remember when the world ended in Y2K?

The computers did turn majority into slaves. Plastering faces on cyber books, with cyber crooks, and peeping cyber toms who created my space just to follow me, laugh when I take a tumblr or two, and then instagram my face.

I decided to take another approach and have people follow me to press my words for the exposure of truth