Tag: Arts

Dear Diary

Posted in Dapper Suits, Free Writes, Life, Pieces of Poetry, Transitional PiecesTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

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

Phenomenal Woman

Posted in Family, Pieces of PoetryTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 1 Comment

For all that you have given me,

I can return but love.

On the days when the sun isn’t shining so bright,

Your smile brightens my world, and glistening in your smile is your heart of gold.

Your eyes caress my uneasiness, letting me know everything will be okay.

How can you know how much you mean to me?

After a number of heartaches, there unconditional love lays.

Blessed I am, for the woman you are, and the one I will become.

Since birth it’s been you & I.

I know I have a lot of siblings,

You share a separate yet special bond with each us.

But lately, I’ve been caught up in this growth between myself and my pride.

I know I haven’t been an easy child, however

I’m just trying to express to you my apologies.

 

I look into your eyes and see the wounds on your soul, your hurt.

I admire what you’ve provided me with.

I am grateful.

 

Anyone can see it in our lives,

The joy each one of us derives,

in just knowing that the other one is there –

To care and understand,

To lend an ear or hold a hand,

And celebrate in the memories and love we share.

 

Mommy,

You’ve passed onto me your elegant attributes.

Beauty,

&

Intelligence.

Your hugs are laced with tender, loving, care.

Your kisses calm down my heart, and give me reassurance that you’ll always be there.

Phenomenal Woman.

Your skin glows, radiant with triumph.

Legendary.

My inspiration to become everything, you know I can be.

You helped to build my mind.

And I want you to know –

The thought of you by me

Makes me smile and give thanks to God for having you in my life.

 

We will be close

Forever, not just for a while.

I appreciate my mother.

 

Gentle yet Strong.

You’ve been patient when I’m foolish;

You give me guidance even when I don’t ask.

Its evident you can do most anything;

A master of every task.

You’ve been my cushion when I fall.

Help in times of trouble.

I love you more than you know,

You have my entirety of respect.

And if God gave me my choice of mothers,

There would be no question,

You’d be the one I would select.

So

Although time is non-directional, it always moves forward.

We have memories to look back on, and I am able to bask in your love.

It’s said,

“The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which you will always find forgiveness”

Well it doesn’t just take mother’s day to let you to understand,

That not only are you My Mother, but

A Phenomenal Woman.

 

Love Always,

–Leighrick

The Coldest War

Posted in Dapper Suits, Family, Life, Pieces of Poetry, Transitional PiecesTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Everyone said life was going to be this hard

However, everyone failed to mention the scars would remain, less obvious than outer appearance.

Daily wearing her heart on her sleeve.

Scabs and keloids protrude from untold her-stories,

 

Belly swollen full of manipulation.

Brain dead,

Unconscious,

Self-conscious —

 

Afraid of self.

 

PAIN

 

A mind is a terrible thing to waste.

Her tongue remedial compared to cat like reflexes.

Her own two sense, something she cant afford.

 

She Wrote.

and so

She Spoke.

 

She becomes family with led and ink.

In-laws of different colors

 

A mind is a terrible thing to waste,

as is her pain,

She Wrote.

 

This lonely child found the comfort in the instruments, the silence, and the trees.

 

All she wrote repeatedly:

 

“NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ME!”

“NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ME!”

“NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ME!”

“NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ME!!“…

 

Peers read, what appears?

What is perceived?

 

The agony brought a smile upon her face, because shes discovered one of her many talents

Acting.

 

Just Leave Me.

Leave Her Alone.

 

MEANING

Comfort Me.

 

This little girl is on a scavenger hunt.

She tries to abandon the labels, they hold her back.

She searches for someone to foster her creativity.

She longs for someone to adopt her perception.

Her conscience is an Orphan.

 

This lonely child is lost in all the love.

 

Mouth dry as wood.

Eyes shinning bright like dim lights.

These Pinocchio’s snout would grow

if they deny being puppets too.

 

She just wants to be a real woman.

They hear her speak, but no one

LISTENS.

Judgments are passed along,

accompanied by unconditional love.

Under the conditions of seeing thoroughly, only when they chose not to be

BLIND.

 

so confused.

 

Life is hard, for that she was prepared.

They keeping telling her to explain herself.

But no one understands her language.

She tries to translate it, but motha fuckas are impatient.

 

Feeling like a patient, she nursing her thoughts.

Remember, this poor girl is brain dead.

A mind is a terrible thing to waste

 

So.

The shadow unexpectedly appeared

placed the pen to her temple.

imprinted a hand against her heart,

and pressed her mouth onto hers.

 

She inhaled comprehension and took her first gasp of LIFE.

Tasteless.

 

Nervous.

Excited.

She understands her language, she wrote back to her through thoughts, emotions, and intuition.

She spoke.

The first words for a young adult.

“I Love You”

She grew inside her,wisdom, her tears the waters that bloomed this gracious flower.

 

Everyone told her life was going to be this hard.

She thought her shit would come out softer after the bullshit they fed her,

another fallacy sugar coated.

 

She’s screaming at her

Lullabies sweet and low.

Her honesty

Bittersweet.

 

This Woman is a Solider.

The series of this Coldest War.

 

To be continued…

 

-Leighrick

Restless Nights

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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.

-Leighrick

Tasting the Grape Vine

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Open your eyes

I know it’s bright

The enlightenment

I can smell the fear

I can taste the excitement.

If you look past the horizon.

I am what you’ll find.

Out the box,

Can’t nobody keep me from flying.

I can hear the uncertainty in your voice,

It’s easy to tell you’ve been lying,

Down with conformity.

I’ll always stand tall

Like my knees don’t bend.

Tell a friend, to tell a friend

I want my name to nourish the grape vine.

My message is in plain sight,

You just have to be blind enough to hear.

Ray Charles to the bullshit

Hellen Keller to the greatest.

Word…

 -Leighrick

Semi Auto Biography

Posted in Pieces of Poetry, Poetic RenegadeTagged , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

AS

I boomed the box that music yelled out of; I gave birth {Chaot!c}, and like Geppeto did Pinocchio molded her into me, Leighrick. This means that we are Chaos. {Chaot!c} climbed out my mouth, she phoned home to the mic, and Leighrick born enraged killed this pad with my pen. She pulled the words out my soul very grotesquely. They examined the lines, they called it a holy mess. They labeled this crime scene a catastrophe. Through the mirror they gave me a cold stare, as {Chaot!c} began to write on the walls.

The Four Walls Read:

Wall 1:

“They only hunt me because my swank is extinct. Last of a dying breed. Endangered Species. You almost caught me.”

–Leighrick

Every where they went, they left trails of authenticity. Originality is now a crime, follow the rest. These felons are wanted for handwriting life sentences. It seems they became restless, the pen was the choice of weapon, and the paper became the victim…

They Turned.

Wall 2: The Story of Life!

“The chemicals spilled mixed with the mic, and experienced technical difficulties with our vocal chords. Your imagination has short circuited.“

-{Chaot!c}

Spelled out in the spilled ink was Leighrick. A Nuclear Devastation. {Chaot!c} became jealous and stalked her. She seeped into her soul and she absorbed it like a sponge…

By the time they got to read what the 4th wall, they had vanished. More to the left was a hole is the wall curved to fit the shape of her multiple personalities, yet it was the shape of a music note.

Wall 3 had read: “Freedom Rings, Peaces!“.

Staring at signatures, they sat there with the most sour grimace, and repeated

Wall 4:”Sanity is Fiction and Dreams are Reality“

– Candace

Sincerely,

{Chaot!c}, Leighrick, & Candace…

How Many Mics?

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Too many mics and not enough MCs

These rappers are still babies to this game all they spit is gaga..shit driving me crazy

How many carrots will it take you see, guess them diamonds really blindin and the cats got more than they tongue,

cause those grills got they mouth on freeze…and these lames still swagg biting.

Still Evil wearing true religion, constantly being fake like any implant on Nicki.

My words boom like echos in a tunnel you can’t help but hear my message more than once

I Do Right And Kill Everything I can’t help that my Young Moneys growing up.

Fuck Pink Dollaz I’m trynna turn the whole world back green and blue.

I write fire so flame is after my stage name like Wocka,

And record labels still handing out deals like candy..Willy Wonka

But this paper is my factory, and these beats are my workers, no machinery I don’t fuck with auto-tune,

just stay tuned into what I’m providing you to read, knowledge is automatic

Be ready to get real

Like the I in Will I can’t help but maintain being ill.

Because I’m sick of this so called music, and allergic to their wanna be attempts at lyrics

These rappers are all my children, they’re so full or drama my words making em young n restless

These lames are driving me Ludacris, I had to stand up for what I believe in.

Got them thinking I’m crazy, this exactly why I need a doctor producing a beat behind this.

All these artist so dry now, I’m parched.

I need some juice man, where OJ?

And since all they worried about are groupies

These rappers needs some fits man, where the Gucci at?

I wanna bring up the underground not that Illuminati, I’m not a mason just amazing.

I ball, these New Boyz can’t play my position,

Ima Cool Kid bruh, the Pacific’s not they’re Division.

I know writing like this can be a sweet dream or a beautiful nightmare ..

You can get real and join the circle or you can just stay a square.

Either way get real…cause every line is a step closer to my dreams.

-Leighrick