When I was called little brother,
It meant I have an elder sibling.
One from whom I could learn,
Between Light and Dark.
What about the Grey?
Only a few would about the grey;
Would even begin to aspire,
Is grey the divider?
What is a divider?
In essence a carrier,
Of both dark and Light;
Having both thane sight!
The grey is never contrite,
It does and will do on sight!!!
Come with your purported might!
Unseen seen chaos,
These are my instruments,
Will be eaten as sacrements.
For continual human growth within,
Mistakes rectified by the elder or role model;
Taught the current crop must be,
Lessons are as seeds;;;
Planted into our mother,
Blending with Earth, Water and Sun,
The seed transmutes and soon the seed has had its fun,
A plant is now the end product.
We humans are also ever transforming,
Perhaps not as apparent as natural beauty forming,
But what is natural beauty?
What is beauty?
Random randominity is beauty natural,
Random beauty is natural randominity,
Natural randominity is random beauty,
Beautiful randominity randoms naturally,
Not an over-spill,
Understanding and comprehension,
The trick however is to pass on that understanding and comprehension.
But how do you do that?
When most of the generation is tuned to the Playstation!
Violent games evocating the continuation
Of our disgusting violent nation.
Perhaps attempt to not scold or tell;
Allow thane actions to speak wonders,
As an undiscovered well.
Keep the resonance of thane bell,
Perhaps another revolutionary,
Your prodige has to be selectant,
Of his student, his confectionary.
Without this passing down of knowledge,
We all might as well eat the most poisonous berry.
I'm not sure how youre going to lead your people to salvation
gang bangers holding the bag, perpetrating violence
i can't help what i think about that predicament
blackmailed, or all rap artists truly do like being the figure heads
of community terrorism
fighting for their rights throughout history
just to throw it all away
raised to believe they were the only ones whose legacy is a nightmare
but they make money rubbing their guns and drugs in our face
selling other people to blackmarkets for slavery
to make more chemicals
I truly hope you take this opportunity to lead your people in the right direction
to truly be able to find themselves
i'm only one person on the outside looking in
i just truly dont believe all those money making rap artists
truly desire to continue the cycle of violence
i myself believe some sick racist paid them to throw themselves away
Drugs and guns
\kids killing kids
something has to be done
and why your people are the ones representing this
I truly believe another black man can encourage his fellows of skin
to see the bright side, work on solving the problem from now on instead of making it worse
I can't handle much more of this
seeing people fight for their rights
and lose to themselves again
being part of the solution of the problems they are soo upset about
is more understandable than being paid to be the front lines of genocide
and continue the never ending cycle of hate and confusion
I'm not fooled by what has happened to them, and what is
but change is inevitable, solving their own problems they probably were entrapped with
War crimes on both sides
the black and white
minds cornered by previous experiences just want to end this nightmare
or maybe i'm wrong
maybe the racists over there are right
maybe they didnt see how someone made them think one thing
and used violence to enforce actions cornering the hate again
in the end war crimes on both sides
i just urge you to find a solution to this
i myself am tired of the psychological fight of a futile civil war
engulfing both sides of the unfortunate paradox
its harder than you realise to see through it
its harder not to get wrapped up in my own emotions of the past that was and the present
Manipulative people brainwashed the innocent
and then used violence against your people to prove that they are justified
its a sick game obama
its disgusting and the streets of your own society need a solution to a dirty trick
Your words are like stones
Whether skipped or thrown
They fly alone
Bruising and breaking deeper than bones
Yet pain from these stones will never be shown.
Whether near or far
She'll faithfully wait
Till the unknown date
When those stones are kind and lost of hate
You make mistakes
Yes she can relate
But what if the pain becomes to great
Whe the kindness comes too late
Such small pieces of her heart
whats left to make
She gave to much
Now there's none to take
Just one everlasting ache
That your stones did create
They say you can never retake
A women's heart once it breaks
So next time withhold the quake
Your stones with take
And keep this lesson
As a dear keepsake.
<3 Kalee Lynn
You think you’ve gone just far enough,
I could smile knowing you’ve gone far enough that you can’t go back again
You think you were careful but,
I’ve caught a glimpse of your true, wretched form
You think you can find a way into my good graces
I’ve seen what you are, monsters with a friendly costume
You can’t deceive me anymore and, I don’t consort with serpents
You think I’m a game to be played but, trust me, you could never win
Don’t underestimate me
You think I’m a joke but, trust me you won’t be laughing
You think I’m just talking myself up but, trust me, you’re the ones going down
My eyes took too long to adjust
Better late than never
It may take a monster to know one but, I promise my teeth are sharper than yours
My first reaction to the hideous revelation that was your form was to weep
Fall to my knees, maybe even wretch my heart from my chest and onto the carpet
Then I thought about the mess it would make
I decided the only blood that will spill, will be your own
I was not weak, but I had a weakness
A heart of soft gold stitched to my sleeve with care
Now my heart is a stone so heavy
I could kill at least two birds at once
Being the nice guy is a thing of the past
Thanks for freeing me of that softness
You thought I was all sunshine and delicate things
When really I had just been swallowing razor blades
Now that sun is setting and I hope you see it was you who were wrong
Can you feel my darkness coming, because it’s eager to hold you
If you thought I was the one who would just stand still or turn to run
Your gonna be the one with tired feet
I’m not sad anymore
Just sick with the plague of your lies
Contagious, and I’m looking for someone to kiss
Even angels can make themselves wicked
When we do, we take no prisoners
Still think I’m a game
This one is just beginning
Sometimes, buddhists attack muslims with trivial provocation!
Thus both sides are led into ethnic tension!
But if anomalies are resolved,not much sectarian violence
will be perpetrated!
Why don’t you love me?
The small brown eyed girl asked her father as he beat her at night,
then with a smile in the morning he’d scoop her up in his arms to play.
Why don’t you love me?
The bigger brown eyed girl asked her father as he walked out and
never came back.
Why don’t you love me?
The young brown eyed girl asked her boyfriend of two years,
As he walked out the same door her father did eight years before.
Never to return.
Why didn’t you love me?
The older brown eyed girl asked her father at his funeral.
As she leaned over the edge of his casket and kissed him gently on the forehead,
Tears running down her cheeks.
Why couldn’t you love me?
The oldest brown eyed girl asked as she lays Jasmine’s and roses
On her father’s grave.
Only a row down from her old boyfriend’s,
With love that never dies.
And her question is answered in the wind,
As the answer is whispered in her heart.
How could you love me?
If you couldn’t love yourself?
I do not know?
*A assignment was due in class. *
Every time a gun shoots
A tree looses its roots
Every time there is bloodshed
Along with it millions of tears are shed
Every time a heart is stabbed
Someone else’s life gets barren
As violence grows
Many more mothers moan
The sounds of destruction
Overpowers the voice of those
Who are innocent
Who suffer with no reason
Who beg for life
Who have heart full of innocence
Why do so much violence?
That the child’s cry cannot be heard
When his father is killed
Why do so much violence?
That a mother moans
Over her child’s dead remains
Why do so much violence
For winning any stupid battle
Which is taking lives
Of people who have wives
And mothers and children
When you can keep calm
Talk things out
Do whatever you can
To keep violence out
Because there is no sin as big as
Like a fiery vengeance
Grasped in open hand
Cuts the loathed foe
Stains your own land
Hate surges like flood
Shatters the weak soul
Spilling the divine blood
Of both sides involved
Anger drives men crazy
Like a tropical storm
Loss are assessed lately
When started to mourn
Forgiveness is not easy
And not for everyone
Don’t wait until query
What have I done?
They say forgive
but do not forget
not sure that I agree
step back learning from situations
forgiving and forgetting
brings me peace
not saying forget the good
or never to remember
its your choice
but if memories are
on your mind too much
it gives those people a “voice”
if the memory is one which angers you
or saddens you beyond repair
forgive and forget the memories
to your own self be fair
maybe later in the future
on a good day
when you feel strong
you can pull that memory out
trying to figure out
what went wrong
for now in your mind store it away
letting mind body and soul heal
concentrate on other things
but this is just how I feel
push them from your mind for now
giving them no power over your fears
they are not worth your time or thoughts
they are not worth your rage or tears
To whit to be caught between two brothers
and become the sport of many others
She kept her heart from loving true
but not from the damage passing through
Oh twice spent the beauties coin
did deliberate vengence to purloin
thought knowingly did enter door
in spite she cast them to the floor
Though twas for couple it's own collusion
the device and trap it's own illusion
the crimes waylaid doth carry to the grave
to curse ones soul as fearful and not brave
Twas the story carried in her mind
her face to others she wished were blind
and with ones sight to look upon her heart
to know in violence was her start
She thought those sins would ever last
or to shake the paths of her past
in her fears her heart down cast
she did not know to forgiveness ask
Unable to differentiate between love and need
or if womans desire was only greed
If man looks upon her with his smile
is he looking for love or just another trial
She asks those questions to this day
must there be violence to graveyard pay
for many men have forced their way
in their behavior did have no say
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
(Random stories Shared with me influenced this write)
Endless reaching I pick up the pieces
My Life lost in scattered seeds
One by one I pick them up
To rebuild another tree
I am the tree, my soul the seeds
I dropped them in places randomly
Throughout my unfortunate life
Where others stole a piece of me
I dropped a few when I was young
When my dad’s drinking had begun
He beaten and tortured beyond repair
Taking things I choose not to share
I dropped a few when I was a teenager
Living among people I considered a stranger
I looked for those who I recognized
But what I seen my eyes despised
I dropped a few when I was older
When my husband left and turned his shoulder
My life became harder with children involved
I witnessed their cries that seem to evolve
I dropped a few when I realized
That I can't live with secrets and lies
And faced my own demons and forgave
All who took a part of my life away
With endless reaching I pick up the pieces
My soul is scattered seeds
One by one I pick them up
Rebuilding another tree
One day my roots will be planted
Where I stand so sturdy and tall
I will not allow to be shaken
My seeds will never fall
100 years since that war and the mighty are dressed
in their fine uniforms and holding hollow speeches.
For some the strutting about is triumphalism, but we
cannot say so, but the British and French feel smug.
The rusty/ gold prince is there too and his underlings
have tearful eyes, he is so elegant and has tons of
self assurance. There are many other royals too but
the TV dwell mostly on the British nobles, this mainly
because they know how to wear a uniform with style.
This glorifying of war showing of the latest weaponry
buying and selling of deaths while we say things like:
“We must not forget.” Forget what! This pornography
of violence on our screen day and night, yet we must
not mention the reasons, money lent and money borrowed.
As for now a river of blood runs in Gaza.