Natural Selection : Ignorant Humor

Its Funny.

 

Funny to that, we think.

 

We think our ideas are unique.

 

Out of the millions among us,

living and deceased.

 

We think of ourselves as the

 

Definition of Originality.

 

What he thought was clever,

the next man thought of it as a joke,

 

What this woman’s been dreaming of,

many elder women already wrote.

 

So if you’re thinking to get ahead,

You’re already behind.

 

Instead think enrichment,

because all the riches in the world,

can’t buy you enlightenment..

 

There is a reason.

There are resolutions.

 

If only,

U – N – I

Unite,

Hence forming an

Union,

In which

WE

Utilize

Agility & Love.

 

Therefore,

The retrogression of our development will cease.

The blind will then see,

The dead will bury the dead.

 

Thus the evolution will occur.

Spiritual & Mental.

 

So you tell me,

What do you think this piece is about?

 

-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

Just the Pieces

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

Give a Little Light

      Can you shine a little light on me? When my days are rainy, and my hearts feeling cold. Would you shine a little light one me? You may not know me, but when we’re strangers on the streets could you smile at me instead of scolding.

      I need your soul to glow when my eyes get low, and my head drops down. Your laugh would heal the pain of not having someone to hold. Be Bold.

      When my tears fall through the pillow, would you catch them with your ears? Hear my agonies silent echoes sulking in the dim hallway. Please just ring the doorbell and say “Hi” to me.

       Should I beg now? Please shine a little light one me! When I cant see past the smoke, I need a bit of guidance. You haven’t met me at my finest, but God isn’t finished with me yet.

      So are you going to shine a little bit light on me? Because my light is kind of faint. Just fill my cup halfway, and I’ll take it from there. You’ll see that this little light of mine, I’m gone let it shine. You’ll see millions of souls will radiate when they hear me, because I hear them.

      I was them. I am them? Please, would you shine a little light one me; because I want to help heal the pain

Thanks,

Leighrick

Wings Under Tailored Suits