Tag Archives: Poet

The Miseducation of the misunderstood

The Miseducation of the misunderstood

Harbors overwhelming anxiety

Which creates layers underneath the shell

Always home like tortoise, but

I am a nomad in my own body.

The feeling of loneliness sets in every time one of my personalities decide to leave.

I am wandering

Invested in a venture that is company to misery.

I declare communicative bankruptcy.

Do me the service of sending all my messages

This misinterpreted status will be one for the books.

Face it —

Who are we without the royalties in freedom of speech?

Too many unwritten rights you have, that wasn’t taught to me.

Do you know me?

Do I know you?

How valuable is identity to a thief?

The only benefit in this hijacking

Is the doubt that you will actually understand that…

I volunteered, but I never asked.

Never raised my hand in class.

So many questions that still need an answer

So many answers that should be questions.

What will be the solution?

It seems I’m the problem.

I am a weapon – non lethal

A dangerous mind shooting stars

Trynna reach the moon, cause I was told that’s as far as love can go.

I am a victim of time!

Trapped behind the bars in the same cage the bird sung.

Those melodies still linger.

The ink blots begin to show.

I think it’s bleeding through!

I use to dream in cursive until…

Murder she wrote.

Now it’s killing me softly.

The standard is to understand

The extreme is to overstep.

The Miseducation of the misunderstood can’t be taught only felt.

-Leighrick

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Everything is Black

Everything is black —

I can’t remember much

Just the touch of the Angels that’s helping me up.

Looking at my stiffened body is chilling.

As I

Throw my head back – the smoke has me ascending.

Deep breathes spread the embers that keep my soul lit.

I wander

I find myself walking towards the light with a regrettable peacefulness.

The roots have been spoiled with magic and shaded by myths.

Is this a test?

A trust testament of my growth or just the repercussions of my actions.

I am at a loss for words, incomplete sentences like ad-libs.

I am wondering.

Searching for the nouns like symbols and the beats of adjectives like mad-lib.

I am running.

Racing my shadow like I’ve rescued my inner child.

Now we’re crying so hysterically it turns into laughter.

And then…

Everything is black.

-Leighrick

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

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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Brainstorming…

The Ambition of a Writer.

I’d travel all seven seas, and spend a night in Atlantis just so one can understand the depth from which I speak.

On the days I feel all hope for my creativity has vanished,

My heart skips a beat, I begin to bleed ink,

I regurgitate my passion.

I speak,

My vocabulary expands its horizons, as my composition book fills itself with growth – and I am no master at life, but in my world imagination knows no limits.

I look outside my window, and all that appears is a blank canvas, a world unprepared for the voice of the unspoken artists…

-Leighrick