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

Semi Auto Biography

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…

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

Sole Soul Writing Rights

If I gave you peace in a piece would you
Hypothetically thinking…
If I gave you peace in a piece aloud would you allow me
Hypothetically speaking…
If I gave you peace in a piece could you
Hypothetically
Be able to bare the strengths of a mother bear, if you told her Fuzzy was never really fuzzy.
Was he?
Hypothetically thinking…
If I gave you peace in a piece could you imagine being eight to seven?
I mean being beat to ate beets, and eat berries.
Hypothetically speaking…
The sound of the shovel buries the heart.
Deep, Deep, Deep
The bass carries the trouble.
Hypothetically
If i gave you peace in a piece would you be able to bare the strengths of a mother bear, if you told her Fuzzy was never really fuzzy, could your base remain strong?
I wonder…
If I gave you peace in a piece would you be able to make white blue?
Hypothetically thinking…
If I gave you peace in a piece would you be able to cite me, and in sight recognize my words in the wind, if they blew right by you?
Hypothetically speaking…
If I gave you peace in a piece, what can you do?
Hypothetically
If eye gave you peace in a piece, would try to you give me yours for two?
…..
I knew, You’re new.

Leighrick

Masterpiece

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

For My Brothers, For My Family

Hollow tips enter full bodies, and empty them.

As the bullet rips the flesh, it’s also stripping the body from the soul.

The victim has passed; not only in presence, but through papers as another statistic.

The consequences of a coward,

we have to live with, walk these very same streets.

His mind has been brainwashed. They’ve purposely left out all the coloreds.

Holding the steal he feels like Iron-man, but without it he is weak.

Pulling that trigger is as easy as taking candy from a baby, but

does this coward know he just took this baby away from his mom.

My ego is fierce with poise full of culture.

I am tired of living through the peephole fighting not to be another victim of hatred.

I am tired of stray bullets finding a home within our own children.

Bullets may not have names on them, but they take innocence of the ones they enter.

I am tired of looking over my shoulder, because I have a permanent crook in my neck to go along with the knifes in my back.

Eyes follow me down the street.

Am I a crook because Im wearing my hood on my head? –Its cold

Am I a crook because I’m carrying candy? — I have a little sibling at home.

am I a crook because I’m holding a drink? — I am thirsty?

OR

Am I a crook because of the color of my skin?

The difference is they wear hoods that  cover their heads.

You can still see their color, but  that they may hide their faces in consciousness of shame.

Lacking Color

A Color?

A “Color” everyone can see past except for them, because they still got that damn sheet over their heads.

I had a dream last night.

I marched to the most immense Bell with my hoodie on, and Granted justice for all Kings, Queens, & Martins.

I was tackled to the ground and handcuffed.

I would be easier to handle.

I didnt just get married, I am not a child (though someones), nor do I have one.

Everyone took a shot, but we’re taking the bullets for their

“Self Defense”.

Tell me — Do they call it self defense because we are strong, and will not helplessly tolerate oppression?

Before you pull the trigger; do you even second guess it?

Is there  really so much hate that you become absent-minded?

Because of their loathing lack of souls,

Everyday I am reminded of the death of My Brothers.

Hughes, Dunbar, Walker, Angelou, Giovanni, Baldwin, Brooks, El-Shabazz, Shakur

They came to me and requested I speak for the people.

They sat me down, I listened, and though they only spoke to me in poetry I gained an inner-standing of each and every stanza they’ve written.

Having me stand tall with my head up.

They woke me up in my dream, God woke me up this morning, but I came alive in this poem.

Oscar Grant, I stand strong for my brother.

Sean Bell, I stand strong for my brother.

Trayvon Martin, I stand strong for my brother.

 I Stand Strong for My Family.

I hope they hear my prayers while comforting each other, realizing they are not alone.

How long will it take for their families to heal?…

Until they’re all called home?

Murder is theft, and if these killer aren’t convicted of one, how about the other?

 —

Instead of pouring this libation on the floor out of respect,

I’ll drink it because they didnt have the chance to.

Better, I will share the candy with our family; who didn’t have a chance to see them come home.

Unable tell them once last time they loved them.

I AM GRANT.

I AM BELL.

I AM MARTIN.

Beaten though Kings & Queens, and still

I AM JUSTICE,

I AM LOVE,

 – I AM Vigilant Leighrick, Poetic Renegade

Symphony of Cries

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