Tag: Food for Thought

The Past of My Presents Future Thoughts

Posted in Dapper Suits, Life, Pieces of Poetry, Thoughtful BlurbsTagged , , , , , , , Leave a comment

This is just a passage of my feelings that have resurrected thoughts about my own personal philosophies.

My past and my future want to get acquainted, that idea I am not too fond of. I’ve been given the present as a gift, and I want to keep it sacred. Mostly because I am not trying to feel a scar from not giving enough attention to the “now“..

When it comes to the subject of our past it seems like his-story is yelling at me pleading with me to read it; on the other hand, it as though he solely feel in love with the cover of mine. Deciding to keep it in his pocket not only for show, but whenever he feels the urge to read it.

Taunting my past I contemplate how the depleted can feel undefeated. There are days I feel like Ali without the championship belt, still I find myself floating blissfully like butterfly with the zap of a bee. I realize I am a winner everyday because I wake up breathing.  The problem isn’t seeing that continence in my future, the dilemma is I feel like my past is suffocating me!

This causing me to wake up at night; realizing my future is only a dream. In result of these thoughts I stay awake chasing aspirations. Forgetting that I cannot become complacent with the comfort of my memories.

In the avoidance of sleep I visualize sitting in the laundromat. I am being hypnotized by the washing machines, as if I am witnessing my soul on the rinse cycle. I call this flooded clarity; meaning there is too much water for my eyes to see clearly. Peculiarly the spinning cycle creates focus.

With the simplicity of complexity imagine a blind insomniac. Envision a big picture, trying to pinpoint a definition for color. Its not so much depression as it is disappointment. Basically, my heart isn’t necessarily guarded rather vigilant.

I hope that the next time I cross paths with antiquity, I’ll be holding destiny’s hand with eyes full of glee and fulfillment radiating in my smile. Once this happens my present will be introduced to my future, and only then will I introduce my future to my past. For now…I continue to transcribe my transparent impalpable ambitions.

–Leighrick

Vacancy

Posted in Initations, Life, Pieces of Poetry, Transitional PiecesTagged , , , , Leave a comment

      My brother said to me, “Sis write your heart out“. My eyes got big agreeing; I went and brought the knife out. He asked me, “What do you plan to do with that?“. Right before his eyes I pierced my flesh. Howling like a coyote when the moon is out, I keep etching away until the slit resembles the one that parts my mouth.

      In that moment I held my heart in my hands, and knew exactly how I was feeling. I grabbed a pen and switched the blood with ink. I’m going to write until the very last beat. When I can’t feel anymore and its hard to breathe.

      To that point where I need to put a period, but my conscience climbs out my mouth and resuscitates me. Write until there’s no muscle left to dot my “i’s” and cross my “t’s”. Until my spirit lift’s me up like its offering me.

      Quietly, I am screaming, “God please put your hands on me!”. I’ve let my little light shine until my soul went dim, and still these beings dont acknowledge me. They belittle my philosophy.

      Thinking at least whisper in my ear, so I can be born again and come back with the right answers. How do all these people claim to talk with you? Are you giving the silent treatment to me? Everyday my questions go unanswered. I write you letters hoping that you’ll read my pleas. I have a lot of faith, but my pride has never allowed me to get down on my knees.

      Living is getting harder every day. It seems like more trails than triumph. I ask  to at least let me die on my feet. The beats are slowing down. Have you been listening? I hope that you’re not misunderstanding me; I am okay with struggle. Mama always taught me to wash my own dishes.

      I haven’t seen too many shooting stars, but I’ve made a lot of wishes. Maybe some one was snatching coins out the pond? I feel like now thats the only logical explanation.

      Live one life? Why?! There’s millions of american idol minds I can live vicariously through. If I die tonight reincarnate me into my mind.

Night Owl Howls. The Living Dead. Zombie Life.

      I’m the only motha fucka that will come back and say, “Fuck People, Im Trynna Kill Time!”. Because it was never on my side when I was trying to get mine. Adding longevity to hate, subtracting the good times.

 I Am a Lost One. They’ve Lost One. That One Wasn’t Me.

      They’ve lost lives in war and lost souls from t.v.. Casually catch me sleeping, and that’s okay because I only dream during the day. When there’s enough illumination to guide my ways. In the dark is when people creep to destroy.

      That’s when the beating stopped, oddly I could still feel it. Now more like throbbing,  I place it back in my chest. With my hand across it like a pendant, I write a couple pieces making my self a vest. Protect your self.

      Burn these letters acting like this was never real and nothings left. Keep in mind  next time to rethink before you repeat the statement, “Yeah, I know how you feel“.

–Leighrick

Take Me to Your Future

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My mind is racing. My shoulders are heavy from the burdens I carry from the past.

Memories are forever, there is no altering longevity.

Currently I find myself tip-toeing backwards while the future is whispering, “come to me“.

I have to be all I can be, except I find myself at delinquencies doorstep.

Throwing boulders through glass; unfortunately this is my dream house.

Who dared to arouse these feelings of superiority?

Mistakenly believing I control my fate, and can wooo it in to falling in love with destiny.

My days are challenged by just waking up, ironically I refuse to lay down.

Often when I think there’s nothing left to say, I tend to repeat myself.

The same message, with some different words, and a similar rhythm to a piece you may have heard.

—

Understand

You don’t have to listen to me, like my style, or quote every line;

However,

I do ask that you feel apart of what I write, because I rather not use my hands to touch you.

I’d much rather let my words set in place for the feast your will devour.

Served with sweet dreams, soulful auras , a breast sided with pieces of my heart, and a wholesome mind — all catered to you on a silver platter.

While you’re asking questions, like

“what’s that pink matter?”

“what’s the grey matter?”

Answering your questions with my curiosity.

“Why does color even exist?”

Blessings in disguise.

Would there be judgements if we weren’t aware of the color of wealth?

Would the word savage exist?

Once I was asked, “What is Power?”

I balled up my fist and raised my arm. I am Power in it’s fullest existence.

You can seek my name in a dictionary, but you would fail at discovering a definition.

No image  is worthy enough to moderately depict this.

This being the reason I create masterpieces with writing instruments.

Judgements are endlessly passed. I’m intrigued by the witnesses.

Every prosecution plead to the 5th.

In life every one makes mistakes — I’m just tired of defending it.

What is “It” ?

It is who I am, what I want, and how I plan to become accomplished .

Tho when I do,

Forgiving will be the death of me because Forgetting is despair.

-Leighrick