Don’t lose sight of the light.
I close both my eyes, but
Leave the third one open-wide.
Absorbing and Transforming,
Life is a canvas already been painted on; which color will you use to highlight the accents?
How many ways can I contrast the madness?
We are often too busy adding structure to the broken pedestals that once seated those you placed highly.
Deceived if depth can’t be seen without views of the horizon.
Still can’t hear me yelling – only seeing me naked.
This one really speaks to me…
Eye can’t teach them to listen.
Splatter paint like emotion wherever I go.
The world is my canvas. I create in the shadows.
Wash that mask, under that mask, beneath the skin.
Peel the flesh back like old pages.
This book is blank just like the canvas.
Invisible ink disguised as experience.
Squeeze the color out my veins, and witness the light ooze through pores.
Decorating the pews they are glued to.
Stained with the truth not illustrated on the glass.
Looking out the window is living in the past.
Breaking that window is living.
I’m breaking my silence how trees uproot sidewalks.
I belong in the street.
Driving myself crazy, playing hide-n-go-seek with self-identity.
Don’t be lazy.
Chasing my tears to the waterfall of my dreams.
Now I’m glowing..
I stay woke.
Feed off your emotion – a mixture for one of the sickest potions.
Cough syrup gotcha leanin’ on my shoulder.
Carrying weight all the weight on my back, like I’m an ocean.
Wave at the past while I’m running through what’s approaching.
Damn man, time moves fast.
Just watch as the leaves transition to green.
Who say’s money doesn’t fall off trees?
The I air breathe is about to cost me,
Body can’t process the food, it’s so insulting.
Water getting drier than machines.
Who got the WD40?
Pardon me for spilling the oil, but I’ve been impartial.
The type to bring panthers to a party.
Poetic renegade, riot if we have to.
Keep fighting to keep the dream alive,
What’s a coma to the patient?
Locked and loaded with some comas, hold that thought
until I finish my sentence.
You just became the eyewitness and the victim.
Pigs leaving our hoods in critical condition.
Trigger finger ithcin’, scratchin backs with knives.
Closing schools, parks, and libraries
So all they can do is play inside.
Virtually embodying a solider with only murder on the mind.
No matter sin or color, in all the darkness
The youth is walking blind.
Sprinkle some light and shower love.
Give that stranger a smile, if you’re skeptical to hug.
You hold the book of faces, but you’re make up aint that good.
Shifting through my diction, but pretty soon I’ll be out this world.
There’s a universe inside me, and you
Don’t be so afraid to look.
Adam came from an atom, so
we’re all creations of love.
Not trying to pass judgment, but those thought sound kurupt.
Walking down death row.
This language is crucial, universal
Instrumentation playing symphonies of malnutrition.
Feed the third eye sight, and stop looking.
Stop all that hearing, and listen.
Pay attention, but don’t sell your soul.
Ya feet were meant to get dirty, so embrace ya milestone.
Love Earth you walk on, break down the concrete stairs.
Reach the pyramids through prayer, but you still gotta use ya hands. -Leighrick
If I could picture perfect, I would. Id take that picture, develop that film, and frame that picture. Having it on display just for show. On the other hand, in reality my lens is kinda blurry, I haven’t yet figured out how to focus, I tend miss the bigger picture, and I’ve run out of film.
What I can do — I can hold onto that camera. Because through those lens, I can see the message, capture the beauty, and even if it doesn’t come out the way I saw it. This still life or action shot captures my artistry in its own energy and essence. It’s said a picture speaks a thousand words, and voice just so happens to amplify the message.
I tried to figure out the meaning of this random thought — that was suppose to be a Facebook status, but I couldn’t. I feel as though it was just art within itself; hopefully someone can take something positive from this excerpt. That no matter what, everyone is entitled to their own opinion. Your perfect is different than my perfect, however there is no such thing. We both hold the ability to capture the beauty in life, selfishly and in humility. With that being said, dust off your cameras, wipe down the lens, and find that person, place, or thing that makes you happy. Embrace yourself and hang it in your memories museum.
I honestly don’t know if any of this even made sense…I just let myself write without boundaries.