Tag: Future

Inanimate Objects

Posted in Dapper Suits, Free Writes, Poetic Renegade, Thoughtful BlurbsTagged , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

My notebook is tapping me on the shoulder asking me to be hugged.

 

The paper screaming at me wanting to indulge in my thoughts.

 

Now my pen is crying to the paper, “I just want to be ouched!“

 

Now my conscience is laughing at me, cause she’s scrambling my thoughts.

 

I’m trippin’ staring at the ceiling…

“Did my brain just fart?“

 

My mind is speaking to me, “Leighrick embrace your Art“

 

Now my feelings “cock-blocking”, cause now I dont even know where to start.

 

I close my eyes and my futures looking back at me like,

“Come on, I could’ve sworn I gave you a head-start“

 

I am chasing my future in my dreams

 “Boy is this odd“

 

Now sit back and finish reading, acknowledge me…

 

“Damn, now that’s ART.”

 

–Leighrick

Masterpiece

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

Paint the face of peace.

 

White out the traces of hatred.

 

Highlight respect.

 

Sing songs of intellect

 

Plaster over the discouragement of humility.

 

Dance to the rhythm of equality

 

Recognize the facade.

 

Don’t act creativity – live it.

 

Pasting together actions creating history

 

Write the motivation of the movement

 

Photograph the mirror of the future- YOU(th).

 

Play the instruments of demonstration.

 

Let the vibrations travel through souls uplifting unity in all.

 

Speak Love.

 

Draw lines of tolerance…

 

Sculpt minds of awareness…molding our revolution.

 

There is no price on art – art is ones soul.

 

They say money makes the world go round, but the buck stops here. How much do you cost?…plus tax.

 

–Leighrick

Natural Selection : Ignorant Humor

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Its Funny.

 

Funny to that, we think.

 

We think our ideas are unique.

 

Out of the millions among us,

living and deceased.

 

We think of ourselves as the

 

Definition of Originality.

 

What he thought was clever,

the next man thought of it as a joke,

 

What this woman’s been dreaming of,

many elder women already wrote.

 

So if you’re thinking to get ahead,

You’re already behind.

 

Instead think enrichment,

because all the riches in the world,

can’t buy you enlightenment..

 

There is a reason.

There are resolutions.

 

If only,

U – N – I

Unite,

Hence forming an

Union,

In which

WE

Utilize

Agility & Love.

 

Therefore,

The retrogression of our development will cease.

The blind will then see,

The dead will bury the dead.

 

Thus the evolution will occur.

Spiritual & Mental.

 

So you tell me,

What do you think this piece is about?

 

-Leighrick

Motion Pictures

Posted in Free Writes, Pieces of PoetryTagged , , , , , Leave a comment

I’m stuck in between writers block and a ticking clock; there’s not enough minutes in an hour to cherish a day.

My eyes stay glued to the pages, that’s how I stay awake. I sit up in my bed and contemplate. The second I close my eyes, I lose 4 hours out the next day.

No breaks.

I’m speeding on the train, trying to beat late to work. They say you work hard then you play, but I sweat a little more on the playground because that’s my job day to day. When night creeps around, Im waiting for the sandman with my A.K.

A

Pen also known as my artillery. I’m breaking and entering in the memory bank of my own mind, Trying to ditch the reoccurring visions of what I thought was love at first sight. It took one night, to lose sight of who I was. So Ive experienced being blind.

That’s may be the reason when I recite these lines I have to close my eyes. I feel a pain in my chest, like I overdosed. Instead I keep going line after line after line. And realize that pain is only that feeling of wanting you when I coming down.

From this high. I’m sorry. My hearts a bit tender. Im soaring trying to catch up with my pride, whose trying to catch up with my ego, whos chasing after my mind.

See its not the fame I want; I want the audience inclined. I’m satisfied with being well known. They haven’t yet gotten the message, I’m ahead of my time, but behind.

I live in the moment. If my piece doesnt make your heart skip a beat, I dont own it.

 -Leighrick

Hempathy : Staring Through Vanity.

Posted in Dapper Suits, Free Writes, Initations, Life, Pieces of PoetryTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 2 Comments

I collaborated with my twin, Samuel, and we’ve created “Hempathy”. This piece branching from a simple conversation. “Is a secret truly a secret, if everyone knows it, but no one talks about it?“

Shit, all i feel is hempathy, that’s hemp therapy simply

I’m a smoke till I see God and ask him why I feel this way mentally

Signed, yours truly, sincerely hoping that my best wishes are not just farewells to sanity

While I blow Kush smoke in mirrors subconsciously embracing vanity, and talking to myself–

 

A controlled free spirit trying to think of a purpose, is it worth it?

My heart wants to jump out my chest just so I can put this work in

I start feeling like, “damn do I deserve this?”

Whether I weather the storm, this forecast is my own, this black cloud is only following me

When it rains my cup is filled — half full, tho inside I feel so empty

Success is so tempting!

The weight of the world is on my shoulders and all I feel is sympathy.

Visions of visionaries screaming knowledge from the cemeteries.

In the moment I was being birthed I felt God’s whispers as he spoke to me.

The smoke clears. There’s no longer clarity.

Sitting at the vanity 2 hazed eyes, and the 3rd one so vivid that it scares me.

 

Cry for help like a newborn left in a bin, or for some brotha without a motha heading straight for the pen,

I cleaned my slate with those tears and headed straight for my pen,

Then walked up to the fountain of youth and threw a couple of pennies in, like, here’s my two cents–

That should pay what you’re worth, delusions of immortality,

I’ve been ready for death since birth,

Realize your lies mean nothing, they say the meek shall inherit the earth.

 

Knowledge is power, except it feels more like a curse.

I hand out flowers today because I witnessed tomorrow riding in a hearse.

The gangsta’s spray their semis while the kids run for cover.

Sirens are my alarm clock, while I hide under my covers.

A world unprepared for the voices they’ve silenced by fear.

Not me, I am no longer scared.

I have been scarred interacting with the living dead.

Conniving like con-artist, without guidance I walk amongst the blind.

Pick pocketing every thought.

They don’t get me, but at least they aint got me!

They tried snatching my spirit from me out my cradle just to place me in a tomb.

The killers perish with their intentions, but the believers never die from their wounds.

Imagine spending your whole life trying not to cry.

Misery loves company and the world is its companion.

Birthing monstrosities that  label themselves as super human beings.

Assassins assassinating, I chose to replace them.

If I were to murder one person, it would be –ME!

Because there is one thing I yearn for most is my body to rest and my soul to be FREE

Only then will the mind solider be at ease.

 

–Leighrick & Samuel

Image

The Past of My Presents Future Thoughts

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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

Symphony of Cries

Posted in Parenthood, Pieces of PoetryTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Scrolling through any social network, watching the news, reading the many articles written about this world today often leaves me with sickness. Children, your future, my future, our future…THEIR FUTURE is being tarnished, cut short, and manipulated. It really hurt (for lack of better words) when I read about the abuse, neglect, malnutrition of children; who do not asked to be brought into this ball of atrocity we call a world. Today, I read that a 6 month old baby got shot 5 times in Chicago. My heart is  in mourning, R.I.P to Johnylah Watkins and to all the other fallen babies, children, teenagers, people around the world.

 

Symphony of Cries

Harmonize the crying children.

Turn their sobs of sorrow into

Melodies of hope and intuition.

 

Gather the chorus.

Line them up by the level desperation to be understood.

 

Conduct the songs of everlasting love and inspiration.

 

Someone call the symphony.

Tell them they’re late.

Tell them not to come.

We don’t need to add the sounds of pity, so leave the violin section out.

 

Instead

Bring out the Orchestra

Let the Saxophones, Guitars, Trumpets, and Drums beat out

the Lies & Mind control.

 

Visualize the music notes soaring into the sore hearts of the crying child inside

constantly asking, “why?”

 

The healing is remarkable, if my words fail the music of my creativity should speak.

And say to the Choir of Crying children that mistakes are inevitable.

 

This is dedicated to the children that cant understand the gospel.

 

They don’t understand who they are, or who they’re suppose to be.

 

This is dedicated to all the children who want to show themselves.

But the cities smog is too thick.

 

For these screaming children

I take off my sunglasses.

Extract the ink from my veins.

Subtract all positive vibes from my heart.

And with a lost voice, sing songs of purity and understanding.

 

For these screaming children

Id save every tear I shed in  water bottles because they are left with a thirst for knowledge.

 

For these screaming children

Id give away all my clothes, because this world was cold and they’re left outside bare.

Naked Truth.

 

For these screaming children

I will position my hands and we’ll all kneel for prayer.

 

Harmonize the crying children.

Turn the sobs of sorrow into

Melodies of love and meditation.

This music is restless yet peaceful.

 

Who is the conductor of this concert?

 

I have yet to answer this question

but if you find them…

 

Ask them to describe the difference between Hell, Earth, and Heaven.

Because us confused children, are screaming and crying, searching for the difference.

 

 -Leighrick