Tag Archives: Knowledge

The Last Train, Until…

Picture ya life on the subway –
Labeled a runaway.
Always taught to chase dreams, but catching them was never imagined.
On the train til infinity, where every malfunction exceeds a boundary.
The sky ain’t the limit, its the ticket.
What’s the difference?
I can see beyond the colors of the prism.
I have touched many moons.
Floating – weightless –
Patient.
Healing myself, still doctoring the wounds from when they severed the ties to my portal.
The only home I’ve known, now it just seems as if love don’t live here no more…
So I roam.
Telling the streets my secrets.
Leaving tattoos when I spit the words penetrate the skin.
The concrete cracks.
A Rose emerges.
The train door closes before I even look back…
I pricked myself on the thorns, I wail as the horn sounds…I realize
My overstanding reality is under attack.
-Vigilant Leighrick

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Broken Open

Still in a room,
A broken mirror reflects flawless smiles of all those that once stared before it.
Gleaming eyes looking for themselves in fragments of light.
I can’t yet see through.

Walking…
My tears and the street lights create stained glass.
Looking at memories abandoned in pictures, and the pain that is sheltered, buried, and concealed in temples.

Implicitly.

Shattered and now broken open.

I pick up the pieces with the roughest edges first.
I cut myself — countless times.

It hurts not to scream!
As a child you are taught that silence is comforting,
Explicitly a fools gold, a dastardly violence.

The blood has been contaminated with secrecy.
Life’s own mystery;
What good is the knowledge of hystori if the truth never gets told?

Exposed.
Undressing wounds
I see myself in rare form….beautiful….
Vulnerable.

This bigger picture envisioned is actually a puzzle;
we are each others pieces.
There are no borders, filters, nor frames….
Regardless not everyone fits, still you are..

Limitless…

-Leighrick

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Break Fast & Read Slow

Break Fast & Read Slow.
This morning I sit contemplating, scrummaging through synonyms and personifications. I take a stab at exercising mediation and writing being in sync.
Once upon a time I believed that communication in relationships [i.e Family, Intimate, Friends ,etc] was farfetched. Telling one person, let alone the world how I feel? Never!That is…until I picked up a pen, maybe it was a pencil, or maybe I was sitting at the computer abusing it with my bead eyes and frolicking fingers.
Since then I have been pursing creative writing. First – I wrote with intentions of beefing up my confidence, but more importantly I found an outlet. The feeling is natural, as I began to simmer down writing became a healthier alternative for expressing myself, and the way I feel.
I have dissected every syllable and ingested every doubt. Collecting memories like recipes, and holding them close like secrets.
No longer do I believe that I am restricted to pain, sadness, tearful joy, trauma, warm love, oppression, heartbreak, etc to produce a gem. The pressure has ceased, and all these ingredients are just that.
As appetizing as it reads – surely it does not define the divine Goddess I am.
So currently I am marinating in this process of enlightenment. Soaking up the pungent frustration and tart effortlessness. I am the author of [my] cookbook; is your mind malnourished? How about some dessert for thought, the sweetest tasting intellect served on a platinum incrusted paper plate.
Thus allowing you to savor every simile, break down every syllable, and extract every nutrient from my light, and let the imagery melt in your hand and mouth, this is what love tastes like.

Bon Appétit !,
Vigilant Leighrick, Poetic Renegade.

Blurb

Man sometimes I get so frustrated with myself and the mistakes I make, but I realize I will keep making them until I learn my lesson. I have to also take into consideration that I am young, but no matter what age I am these life comes with its set of challenges. I am grateful to have the set of eyes to realize this. I wont be able to spell satisfaction with the action. I will be better.

Who Needs Sleep?

Instead of sleeping I think.
Conversing with my Conscience.
rekindling memories and setting ablaze doubts.
I am the smile and the frown, together
Shaping beauty.
Jaded compliments, opening old wounds
Tho deceptive as the skin may be,
The density of my bones, upholds a heavy spirit.
A paradox.
It beams light, and eases darkness.
Breaching the infrastructure of this tale, it’s growing
Rooted so far down the sky becomes the ground, and
My solar plexus houses the blueprints of galaxies.
Invisible to looking eyes.
Tap into the 3rd frequency, and see
Wisdom is heard in the whispers.
Instead of sleeping I think.
Imagining my own colors,
Sanding a frame of sizable impression for masterpieces.
Empathy is kept safe in the right atrium’s, saving what’s left for the ventricles.
I found love on a two way street,
Sitting at the crossroads.
Lotus Pose.
Unlocking the gift to
Be.
Willing…
Knowingly….
Instead of sleeping, I think.

-Leighrick

Personal Statement

c/o 2010

I sit at my computer. I allow my conscience to marinate some of my best qualities and passions into my fingers — I begin typing. I enable my mind to go through this vigorous hard-laboring pain of molding my love for basketball into words. It is a love compiled of harsh metaphors and unimaginable personifications. Basketball is my poetry; my words wrap the ball like Spalding. Anything I am able to write on is my canvas, and any court, concrete, wooden or rubber I am able to play on. Half a piece of paper cannot stop me from expressing myself, and half of a court will not stop me from playing to my maximum potential. An empty pen and a flat ball will not dictate my future.

One night I dreamed so close to reality, I almost did not wake up. The announcer was calling out my teammates. Maya Angelou was the point guard, because she threw the most creative behind-the-back passes that ignorance could never capture– a true definition of The Heart of a Woman. At shooting guard appeared Alice Walker because her explanation of living as a black woman in America is perfect. She continues to put up shots. Hatred’s hand tries to contest the shot, only to fail and become the reason her eye has turned The Color Purple. As I gazed toward our locker room door I had to blink twice, because through those doors shone The Beloved power forward, Toni Morrison. She was ready to box-out all who would try to annihilate our chance to score, and to restore our rights as a culture. Right after her came Gwendolyn Brooks, the center, helping rebound our “Black Love” when the direction of the love and respect is unpredictable. She is the backbone and the strength of our team’s pride. I stand integrity as the small forward the smallest punctuation being the biggest part of the sentence. I call a huddle at half-court, and we all place our hands in the middle. Five minds, five hearts, five different personalities defined as one team. We all cross-over to a new chapter in the same book of life. The scoreboard buzzes, and I go to grab a last drink before the game resumes; only the last time I blinked, I opened my eyes only to find I was staring blissfully at my ceiling.

Every poet/author in my dream has taught me to be culturally and self aware. In basketball they say “practice makes perfect”, and in writing perfect practice makes an incredible writer.  So in every practice I allow my writing utensil to dribble my emotions across each page with sentences like quick passes, and every stanza is another quarter I’ve given my all. Each time I step onto the court all troubles seem to cease. The ball is a symbol of life. I know that the ball gets passed around to people and sometimes even plagiarized and mistreated. I understand the players in my life may come and go, some people may pass a way, but the lessons they have taught me are still invaluable.

 

-The Graduate
-Leighrick

Haleys Comet

Quick Bio: 3 years ago a friend of mine Cheyanne aka “Mariah Haley” was assigned in her Intro to Philosophy class, to describe her philosophy in a poem as her Final. This was to be strictly her opinion, and she came to me in aid of expressing her thoughts into poetry. We ended up collaborating on this philosophical poem, and I hope you all enjoy it.

I believe that through experience we realize, that we create our own reality.

One not founded upon other peoples visions, but through our own day to day experiences.

If we learn to embrace each breath, and rejoice because we’ve have gotten the chance to feel every day, then we will learn that knowledge itself is power.

The power to recreate your world, and at the same time be the survivor in the “big picture”.

In this race against time, to live and to learn, one will always encounter numerous hurdles.

Some are higher than others, and whether you fall or not; what keeps you running is ambition.

What separates our souls is that some looked to be saved, and others look for another alternatives.

If you fall you cannot wait for someone to pick you up, you must get up on your own and dust yourself off.

Ambition is a value embedded in the soul. It is who you are, and like sweat it seeps out from all over your body and overwhelms you with strength.

In order to stimulate that strength we must stand strong in our beliefs, but not ignorant to our mistakes.

Although religion is man-made, our souls are spiritually molded; a connection with a higher power feeds your conscience, and that is how one is able to digest this food for thought.

Look who’s left deserted. What about the living others around us?

Trees and plants provide us the oxygen, which replenishes our lives and animals revitalize our stomachs, but also protect us with and without training..

However, we as humans don’t see each other as equal.

Only the strong survive, but how do you know whose the strongest if everyone is authentic.

Just like the equator individuality is invisible, but it’s wanted across the world.

The planet needs people who take everyday to learn something new, and surround themselves with inspiring dreams because a life without dreaming is not a reality at all.

We have been leaving the truth behind and hiding behind our walls of comfortable lies.

We have become a society so in debt to wealth and power; that we refuse to acknowledge our duty to the planet

Lost in this battle of greed and war, consumed by pollution, it is killing us slowly…

Education that teaches us to climb the corporate ladder instead of to live peacefully with our neighbors.

Our neighbors who are literally next door and physically across the world.

We don’t even realize that we share this planet with everyone, and at the same time, we share the same fate.

Our existence depends on the way we spend every beautiful breath, the way we step and every stride we take.

Even though the footprints we leave behind in the sands on this planet, are washed away…

Life is our choice, we have the power to create something beautiful.

We have the resources to build and live in this web of life.

-Leighrick

 

Photo on 2011-02-25 at 23.26 #5

Her Stories Lock

Her story’s Lock

They call it His-story, but what about her.

We only get a month, even though we were the first to walk this earth.

And ever since I could read, I’ve been blinded by their lies, and deaf to my truths.

How do they expect me to understand, if our story is put in disguise?

We’re still in this race for equality, and I’m damn sure gonna get mine.

And if they’re not giving it up, I’m damn sure gone take it. Before my time is up they will respect my natives.

We may only get a couple of pages towards the end of the book, but they know we were the beginning.

The majority of my education has been raped to keep me away from the knowledge of my ancestors.

We created history, but it’s all because of her.

And maybe him too, but you can’t have a race without two runners that make it.

So every time I put this pen to this paper or these fingers to these keys.

Another story is revealed about the past of these thieves!

-Leighrick

Letter to the Future [Lost Children pt 1]

Dear Lost Children,

I am writing you this letter, asking you to take my hand. I would like us to take a trip to see this countries past. I am writing you this letter letting you know not to be scared, because I am here to prepare you. I know you yearn for knowledge and guidance, but they’re hiding and burning the books in which some truths are kept (in order to sustain this well lit Hell). I know you are starving, but please child, do not kneel to the Golden Arches of the Burger Kings. I know you want to play, but please don’t roam these streets following the blind, and unattended.

You may ask, “who am I?” or “who are you?“; I am the Present and you are the Future. You see — I am writing you this letter as a gift, so TURN OFF THE TELEVISION and READ. I know you’re young, therefore you need to understand they are killing Our Mother, Our Sisters, and Our Brothers! But this Nation was founded on lies and corruption, so you have every right to blame our Fore Fathers.

Lost Children you may not be concerned because they’ve put you in a box, and marked the target with an “X“, but Ive come to help heal you. They are trying to strip you of everything. I hand-down to you any and everything I have to ensure your Knowledge and Safety.

PLEASE PAY ATTENTION! I know it’s hard because your young, don’t let them trick you into thinking you have some disorder, they are just scared at the fact that I’m lining you up like soldiers and preparing for you the take over. I can BET my life and guarantee that these next couple of 16 years wont be so sweet. You’re absorbing all this like a sponge, but I refuse to let them dumb you down like Patrick.

TURN OFF THE RADIO! Don’t repeat those demeaning words, I know its hard because the tune is catchy, but my generation is the victim to the venom , and are now they have become lost generals. Listen to me, you Lost Children are our not so distant futures last chance at hope. But you don’t need the whips and chains, to see that this countries is trying make your life worth less  rather than change. Be the change, and the sense, you are worth everything I’ve wrote.

Do not eat the shit they feed you, because it’ll only stunt your growth and widen the chances of you being incapable, but NEVER GIVE UP! And if I am not present, and they so happen to knock you down its okay. Just GET UP, do not stand by and allow them to keep thinking they’re stronger. PUT THAT HAPPY MEAL DOWN!

Lost Children, I know it hurts, but I’m trying to ease the pain and heal you, because these battle scars leave marks embedded in you physically and mentally. I am sorry my children, but war has been declared. I’ll just end this first letter asking you to join me on the next journey, our brother and sister countries, and prepare to save them too….

Reminding you to DROP THE REMOTE & PICK UP BOOKS.

 I will be here to help guide you…

 

LOVE ALWAYS,

 

Leighrick, The Present