Tag Archives: Faith

Creations of Love

Feed off your emotion – a mixture for one of the sickest potions.
Cough syrup gotcha leanin’ on my shoulder.
Carrying weight all the weight on my back, like I’m an ocean.
Wave at the past while I’m running through what’s approaching.
Damn man, time moves fast.
Just watch as the leaves transition to green.
Who say’s money doesn’t fall off trees?
The I air breathe is about to cost me,
Body can’t process the food, it’s so insulting.
Water getting drier than machines.
Who got the WD40?
Pardon me for spilling the oil, but I’ve been impartial.
The type to bring panthers to a party.
Poetic renegade, riot if we have to.
Keep fighting to keep the dream alive,
What’s a coma to the patient?
Locked and loaded with some comas, hold that thought
until I finish my sentence.
You just became the eyewitness and the victim.
Pigs leaving our hoods in critical condition.
Trigger finger ithcin’, scratchin backs with knives.
Closing schools, parks, and libraries
So all they can do is play inside.
Virtually embodying a solider with only murder on the mind.
No matter sin or color, in all the darkness
The youth is walking blind.
Sprinkle some light and shower love.
Give that stranger a smile, if you’re skeptical to hug.
You hold the book of faces, but you’re make up aint that good.
Shifting through my diction, but pretty soon I’ll be out this world.
There’s a universe inside me, and you
Don’t be so afraid to look.
Adam came from an atom, so
we’re all creations of love.
Not trying to pass judgment, but those thought sound kurupt.
Walking down death row.
This language is crucial, universal
Instrumentation playing symphonies of malnutrition.
Feed the third eye sight, and stop looking.
Stop all that hearing, and listen.
Pay attention, but don’t sell your soul.
Ya feet were meant to get dirty, so embrace ya milestone.
Be weird.
Love Earth you walk on, break down the concrete stairs.
Reach the pyramids through prayer, but you still gotta use ya hands.
-Leighrick

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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

The Giving Tree

The spine is a trunk.
The nerves are vines, draping insides of beings like sound-walls.
Meditation is the freeway to higher learning, of self.
A portal.
This truth is no pyramid scheme;
Judge taste – not people.
Leaves fall resembling coin filled wishes, to the bottom of a pond.
Whose depths are more than seen on surface.
We are all flowers.
The branches of energy are
fruitful, delicate, and sometimes blemished.
Mother’s of the sun birth daughters of stars, with crescent eyes.
Upheld by Orion.
Their voices mocking Little Walter;
Singing blues to the blacks, browns, and all bands of color.
Harmoniously their cries spawn tides, expunging identities.
There is peace lodged in the throats of mutes.
Yoga is poetry in the form sign language.
Exchanging idioms between flexibility and endurance.
This Being –
Firm like a mountain, pose
Still like a tree, yet
a Warrior soul.

-Leighrick

The Tree That Fell in the City

I’m about as ungrateful as impatient can get me.

The type that forgets hospitals exist when I am sick.

And often times, I wish there was only 6.

Like maybe there’d be some balance if the odd didn’t exist.

Fixated on my crowded loneliness.

Wiping my tears as I reminiscence.

Trying to find the “I” in dependent, bout as hard as it gets.

So I sip & I twist.

 

I have dwelled with the premature & tolerated pre-Madonnas.

I’ve disguised my pride and dressed my thoughts.

Been on the same page as many, but rarely ever the same book.

I have mistaken blessings for a curses.

Let go of my ego for equality,

Breaking fast for fallen soldiers in the army of humanity, in the war of morality.

Experienced the experiment of genocide.

Ive stayed inside to hide, then stood tall when no one was around.

Smiled, when inside it’s a frown.

Often –

I walk with my head down.

 

Until then,

The pen personifies my motives.

The paper organizes my thoughts into origami, shifting shapes into my alter persona.

A schizophrenic Gemini, filled with personality, conflicted by decision.

I put my hand up for a time-out but this motion picture, illiterate to intermissions.

Ticketed oppression.

 

I digress.

Throw my hands up in confession

I’m not who you think I am!” —

My soul goes deeper than my reflection.

Complacency is more effortless than depression.

Independence has a currency, Protection.

 

Some say, “Money makes the world go ’round“, but

Its a recession.

So has the world withheld movement?

Funny we think it revolves around us, but

We’re no where close to the moon.

See the solar system?

In my souls there’s a system,

Replace uncertainty with Faith.

Everything lives & everyone dies.

 

You see,

This world might seem cold, and soon these storm clouds will turn to rain.

Meaning — I am the sun that will shine,

As you fret and precipitate, my words will ease the pain.

For every smile there’s 100 times the drops of rain.

So plant your seed, and let the roots dig deeper than what the eyes can see, the hand can touch, and the heart can feel.

Become one with your growth, but never be the one to cut down a tree.

Just because their still doesn’t mean they don’t scream.

….

Did you hear it?

 

-Leighrick

Devils Food Cake : Opposite Day

I don’t touch that bottle

my father’s finger prints are permanent,

Sometimes he’d mistake my neck for a bottle.

 

They say the Skyy is the limit,

but he didn’t think that was enough.

Blood brothers with Jack,

Intoxicated visions of him being Daniel

In a lions den, I remember vividly

as he got up from his throne, and slammed the door

Lying telling me he’d be right back.

 

Every attempt my mother took to turn her back

He’d whip it.

Repeatedly, Repeatedly, Repeatedly

Cries like a broken record,

Broken heart

Broken ribs

No Protection.

And

he’d leave with a satisfied appetite of affection.

 

We had covered all mirrors in the house,

Bruised pride

Swollen eyes

and a transparent reflection.

 

We were only dependents

with no sense of declaration.

Longing to be rescued,

but cowardly courage was always a distraction.

No ends to support our means.

No knowledge of definitions,

 

Love was pain

and Love was what we longed for,

so our only option was to remain.

 

He was raping our personalities.

We were no longer people,

but soon to be fatalities.

 

And we were.

 

 

On the anniversary of my birth,

he turned the station wagon into a hearse,

and while he was driving,

he was trying to decipher his reality from his wishes

and as the vehicle  was swerving,

I threw up regret, and —

 

 

I woke up.

At last, the truth was revealed

the world was finally upside down,

like I had always thought it’d been.

 

I remember rounds of hollow tips

were fired into the vacancy of my chest,

but in my dream I had mistaken the sound of my mothers screams for bullets.

 

 

On the anniversary of my birth…

My father killed my Mother,

My mother gave birth to my baby Brother,

and God taught him how to fly,

before my father stripped him of his wings.

 

So when I woke up,

My father presented me with an upside down cake,

and with out saying any words,

he looked me deep past my eyelids,

wiped my eyes,

and said ‘Happy Birthday’.

 

 

There is no limit to Skyy,

No better friends than E&J,

No Better Amo than Yeager-bombs,

and

No better Freedom than Death.

 

Leighrick©

Psalms 91

This Morning…

 

This Morning I awoke from a Dream, petrified.

I was sitting in a pew, and was whisked away blindfolded.

 

This Morning…

 

This Morning I awoke from that Dream, petrified.

 

I rose from my slumber, exhausted, confused, and intimidated.

Trying to leave my bed, but it has turned into a swamp.

Drenched in emotions and adrenaline, I drown.

 

This Afternoon…

 

This Afternoon I awoke, and gave truth to the meaning :

“Sleep is the cousin of Death”

I took the leap of faith out of my bed, praying that these wooden floors wouldn’t turn to quick sand.

 

I calm myself.

 

I make myself breakfast for the first time in weeks,

because my brain was suffering from malnutrition.

Not your cliche Food for thought,

but more like the last taste of food before an execution.

 

I ate.

 

Today I woke up with a foreign feeling.

 

It seemed as though God was making a Long Distance phone call to me,

and some how it got intercepted and misinterpreted,

I disconnected myself for all communication, and left the phone off the hook.

Figuring if I silence all my problems, these alien feelings will go back to their homeland of seclusion,

and leave me the hell alone.

 

Only,

My dream became real.

This feelings blinded me with the mirror of my reflection, and like a stork,

they carried me in their mouths and delivered me to the doorsteps of my conflict.

The issues that birthed this misguided monstrosity,

looked down on me,

but like a baby I couldn’t comprehend why I have been apprehended from my tranquility,

a place in which I call home.

 

While present in physicality, yet idle in mind —

The television was no longer poising my mind, but replenishing my conscience.

 

On this journey to meet the problems that created me,

I discover understanding.

 

Something so simple as washing the dishes,

gave knowledge that the things most overlooked consume the biggest life lessons.

 

I stand up and stop kneeling down to these mistakes.

 

I need to regain balance; as the stork was delivering me back to my dormant mind,

it dropped in me a body of water.

 

This afternoon….

 

I awoke leaning up against a wall,

drenched in water, I was cleansing myself of low self-esteem.

As I cleansed my self with a black soaped dove, I felt purity again,

as regret stormed down the drain.

Finished,

The towel, like my love ones soaked up any disbelief of their love for me.

I am clean.

 

I rest.

 

For tonight…

 

Tonight,

The sun is my kiss goodnight.

The birds are my lullaby.

I thought I shut all doors and windows,

but stealthier than the I air breathe,

Insomnia crept up on me and suffocated my pillow with my thoughts.

Wrapped with a blanket of restlessness,

The birds continually ease my soul in to slumber,

and as I fade, the Sun gently kisses my forehead,

My deprivation tucks me in, and I sleep…like a baby,

 

Until a couple of hours pass, and I wake up again

I look out the window, and the Sun has been screaming —

 

I am trying to restore the balance in my life; however right now,

Sleep is not Kin to me; therefore, we’ve become unfamiliar faces.

I just wish these thought clouds of anticipation would precipitate patience.

But,

I cannot just sit around under this umbrella, and wait for dreams to come true.

 

So,

I will reacquaint myself with sleep,

extract love from my dreams,

and deliver myself success

 

 

Beautiful Struggle.

Because the truth is, it doesn’t really matter who I used to be.

Its all about who Ive become. 

 

Next time I will be sure to put my phone on vibrate.

 

-Leighrick