Tag: Poetry

The Easy Way is Hard

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If I could write you a poem to make you fall in in love, I wouldn’t because thats the easy way out.

There isn’t a problem getting you to give in to my words, but there’s no guaranteed way out.

If I could write you a poem to make you want to marry my every thought, I wouldn’t. Id rather you pay a penny for my 2-sense like everyone else.

Re-establish my sadness to being mad, reminding me why I deserve to be happy.

If I could write you a song to make you tolerate my attitude, I’d be mad at you.

I’m not suppose to be the only one arguing, a relationship is built for two, and your silence is the anchor holding us down.

 And

If I could write you a poem to make you into the man I want to love, I wouldn’t because then…

Then it would be no fun finding each other.

 -Leighrick

Just the Pieces

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

Drowning out city sorrows with Hip-Hop Blues.

Death comes in 3s,

My regrets come in 2s,

You only get 1 life to live, so

Which one should I choose?

Tapping my feet to the beat,

Bass bruising my drums.

I wish I remembered when this city was dust.

Sand storms instead of smog infiltrated clouds.

This city has my heart,

My roots intertwining with those of the trees.

I see my city; thinking I cannot look past the trash,

Atlas, I see the Art and its production of people.

 I sit back and part the pages in my Notebook.

Jotting down lines that paves ways into memory lanes,

I am consuming pens.

Down to my last two,

Thankfully I’m spared a pencil.

As if living isn’t enough,

Living it to the limit is too much.

If I could sing, I’d write a song

Unfortunately I cant.

All I have are these poems.

Pulling my own weight.

At the same time reaching for the stars,

Living in a World,

Where the leaders are manufacturing sugar-coated lies.

While we’re consuming them, free of charge.

Wondering why our blood cant make it all the way to our hearts.

I have ink in my veins, eyes full of pride.

A heart full of love, soulful cries.

I feel this pain in my chest, in the smokiest skies.

A conscience ahead of the naive,

Who are stuck in lies of the past.

That when they arrive to the present,

Surprise!

My smile is mischievous they tell me.

Only because I know what you don’t see, and see what you disregard.

The sky is soon to be falling, and the ground is now breaking.

Welcome Lost Angelinos,

To the Hell as we know it Home.

We’ve dropped from the Heavens in search of Grape vines.

Instead found bittersweet Cactus’, and the strength in Palm Trees.

Babies Crying.

Men Dying.

Women Trying.

STRIVING.

Constantly admiring the homeless.

While everyone’s stuck in their box,

They keep going.

I’ve never seen anyone fight so hard to live, and be ready to die.

Most times when I walk past them

I tend to swallow my pride.

When I need to ask for a of couple dollars,

Shit, I get mad, Im about ready to cry.

When I see them, if I can I give em mine.

Many are abandoned by Love and by Mind.

Lost the fight to drugs, or did the time for the Crime.

Who am I?

Who are You?

Who could we be together?

These thoughts are just the pieces that made this poem come together.

-Leighrick

Melancholy Lullaby

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Days like these are usually harder than others. I sit and think, what man could I possibly allow myself love more than my father and my brothers?

When the walls stop listening and the paper begins to thin. Pens dry like wells – I continue throwing coins in. Always sinking to the bottom, in relation to my feelings.

Tho my foundation has been shaken, I remain standing on both feet.

Days like these I remember smiles were to keep from sobbing. When the loudness of my laugh echoed and filled the emptiness within. When I picked up the good book, and threatened to test the 7 deadliest sins.

I felt the most suspense. How could one live a unpredictable life knowing what’s coming next? How must it be handled?

I disguised myself and walked blind into a world full of misjudgements. With the thoughts of where I should be. What I could’ve done; what would I give it all up for? Maybe some selfish loving….

Seeking love near and far, but up close is where it’s absent. Filling hollowness with questions. Is my acting so good that you feel like your words mean nothing?

To me this is far beyond explanation. The smile on my face and the frown in my heart are not adjacent.

Who can replace the feeling of replacement? Wouldn’t that be replacing you and I with something unfamiliar?

As an artist we want to be heard, and since I was in 3rd grade, Ive been curious as to why Van Gough cut off his ear. Was it fear? If so – I can relate to that.

My blood boils on the contrary my breathes are flat. I have a plateau of dreams, but I keep taking steps back. Life is all about risks they say, but I’m bored of this game.

I’m aiming at the moon, since I cannot seem to catch the shooting stars. If I had a wish, for one night I’d like to silence these thoughts.

to be continued..

-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

Marauder

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Drift toward lust and into Love,

Aware that it isn’t the destination.

Tip-toeing behind feelings,

Displacing any confrontation.

Collecting thoughts, still

Coincidentally convenient to lose count.

This should not be quoted rather noted.

Visualize simplicity that isn’t superficial,

With no remorse in being sacrificial.

Stress has aged patience fine,

With thin borderlines of passing and capturing time.

Coin theories.

Laws of Love; along with its languages.

Lose change and be senseless, or

Quarter morale and gain riches.

Desire abandonment but resent the satisfaction of being nameless.

Lying around feeling shameless about the truth.

Lost Nomad unsure of where home is,

and unaware of how to replace it.

This has been endured before.

Explain this?

Can’t seem to put a name to it.

Wild streaming clarity.

Emotional obscurity.

Be Frank —

Ample of fish in the sea, but

Sure enough plenty are lonely.

Swim Good.

-Leighrick

Chest Piece

Posted in Pieces of Poetry, The Great CrossingTagged , , , , , Leave a comment

Heavy is the head that falls. Sharp are the words that severed it, with memories still embedded. If its one thing we have in common, death we’ll never forget. Who’s next on the chopping block? When that question’s asked, that is when all the chatter stops. People apply fear like sun block; I apply fear as motivation. I cried the river, built the bridge, and I’d be damned if I couldn’t get over it.

Failures always an option when winning is. Even Jesus wasn’t born with faithful witnesses. They can doubt me all they want, but the big picture being talk about is the one I’m painting. Others are finger painting, finger licking, sharing meals with snakes and shaking hands with misanthropes.

I’m a revolutionary whose evolutions wont be cast on reality television. Through my words I tell my visions. Through my vision I see my disposition.

Gone with the wind as my spirits gets lifted. I see they’re trying to shift their point of view in front of me. Their parents weren’t glass makers, still I see translucence. More fickle than straw, please don’t “Hey” me, that’s for horses.

Instead – Namaste, peace be with you and the all positive forces. Red carpet star wars. Battlefields; souls cemented in Hollywood floors. Who can act the realest for our entertainment?

They are tamed with brains washed. I am watching National Geographic studying my roar and picking my main. They said the end is upon us, it’s probably just a commercial break. Remember when the world ended in Y2K?

The computers did turn majority into slaves. Plastering faces on cyber books, with cyber crooks, and peeping cyber toms who created my space just to follow me, laugh when I take a tumblr or two, and then instagram my face.

I decided to take another approach and have people follow me to press my words for the exposure of truth

-Leighrick

Wings Under Tailored Suits

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I broke free from my chain last night. I was afraid I was going to be sad or upset, but I was more enthralled. I guess it was a sign to let go, wholeheartedly. There was little to no pain, and quiet honestly – there’s belief I snatched it off my neck unknowingly conscious.

It’s funny, I thought this one piece of jewelry defined me. I used to feel so naked and absent without it. Now, I feel released.

Interesting how that happens. Maybe because through these last two years, that was the only thing I had left. A constant reminder of how I remembered myself then. The happiness. —

I guess…I guess I finally felt the weight it had on my heart and held over my head. No longer chained, I am in search of a new piece. No longer one that tries to define me, but inspire me.

Ha!

Maybe that’s just it. I’ve been inspired. I’ve been drinking more water; in result, I have developed an astounding sense of clarity. There is something about water, the moons strength to keep pushing the waves and breeze of the beach. The Life living inside of these bodies of water, and the life it replenishes inside myself.

My mind no longer rattles thoughts but caresses them. My heart no longer beats me, but thumps to melodies of new endeavors. I no longer feel the need to chase after the truth, because I’ve realized the truth I was chasing after were lies.

Which ultimately brought me to the light. When I look in the mirror; no longer in my eyes do I see you – I see my smile wide and bright.

Tonight this caged bird is free. I ripped off the sleeves burden with my heart. I unveil my wings and fly! I’ll even sing!

Until some one grabs hold of me by a limb,

I Am FREE.

-Leighrick