KEEPING IT REAL
Money, money, money coming when it comes.
No need for me to desire what I want.
Grey is my life of enjoyment,
I am going out to party.
Materialistic is my entourage.
Defining my life of choices.
The poverty they define is
Of the mind.
I ain’t did nothing to your funky ass.
I have said nothing about your sweaty *ick.
I would not call it a piece of *hit.
I don’t talk ********.
I am going out to party.
You gray my life of enjoyment.
An entourage define my life choices.
Of the mind sits poverty.
Money, money, money is coming.
From all the places that owe me.
Enjoying life to the fullest.
Materialistic, no bullshitting.
I am about keeping it real.
__________________________________________|
Written January 12, 2016!
You know when you live with a bs person
i.e.
A bullshitting person or rather someone who is always doing so,
You start feeling the same
Even when you are telling the truth, you feel like you are bullshitting like he does
You don't trust yourself anymore
or your words either
Sometimes you feel like even your truth is a conspiracy to some bullshitting
It's a mess
Makes my head spin
When I think of you and I
I think of surviving
Surviving this battlefield called love
Everlasting love, a partnership, a bond
Blessed from the heaven's above
Destined to be together
We've made it through
tornadoes, hurricanes, and
extremely hot weather
These storms will continue to come
It is important to stay and fight
Growing from a victim
to a fierce knight
Not letting anyone
or anything destroy our mite.
When I think of you and I
I think of RESPECT
RESPECT for yourself
RESPECT for your wife
RESPECT for our child
RESPECT for the
entire human race
You know and I know
that no life can be replaced
When I think of you and I
I am thankful for so many traits
I am thankful that you are
not a cheater, a woman beater,
a manipulator a playa hater,
a control freak and a deadbeat
You could be doing wrong
Instead you do what a man
is supposed to do
This is a prime example
why I love you
I am not bullshitting boo
This love is real
True love is rare
Though we may
be busy at times
It may seem like
we do not care
Always remember that
we will always be there
love to create
(even if you never finish a goddamn thing)&
IT WILL NEVER BE DULL
love to laugh
(even if no one ever finds your own jokes funny)&
IT WILL NEVER BE DULL
love to dance
(even if you step on your own toes the whole time through) &
IT WILL NEVER BE DULL
love to sing
(even if you cannot hold a tune for the life of you) &
IT WILL NEVER BE DULL.
love to tell stories
(even if no one is listening) &
IT WILL NEVER BE DULL
love to speak out against injustice
(even if it never changes a thing) &
IT WILL NEVER BE DULL
love to travel
(even if you’re just going for a stroll outside your dwelling) &
IT WILL NEVER BE DULL
love to converse
(even if you’re just bullshitting together) &
IT WILL NEVER BE DULL.
love your own solitude
(even if at times loneliness eats at you) &
IT WILL NEVER BE DULL
love your own sadness
(because it can make you value the happy moments even more so) &
IT WILL NEVER BE DULL
love your ability to learn
(and those things that interest you will only maximize with leaps & bounds) &
IT WILL NEVER BE DULL
love your ability to teach
(as every experience is passed on, whether you like it or not) &
IT WILL NEVER BE DULL.
You don't get any footnotes.
But hey, there's no bullshitting around,
when I say I'm sitting calmly in a lull,
and that even peace comes with knowledge
of future storms and lost hope in ressurected
peace.
And you'd expect vibrance in the throbbing poet,
for raising his tongue once again, but none,
rather calm and anticipation of future days,
to conquer new storms,
because it seems that passivity is a far cry from suffering,
and too bad it's madness,
cause we'd all be sitting on our ass,
and so, I'm going out on the town tommorow,
and I'm pretty well aware
that it'll take generous ammounts of chemicals,
to keep me aware, alive
And experiencing, to keep me freshly mad,
and writing something, anything, but rambling diaryesque non-fiction history plays,
in which I'm stuck with Lear. So perhaps tommorow. we've a Hamlet, or a Romeo, Lysander,
and a poet-prince mad againe.
To the hospital once again
Back to tubes down my throat
Back to constant checks to see if I'm cutting
Back to dealing with crazy mother "luvers"
Back to being alone
Back to lying to doctors
Saying I'm fine, not hearing voices (not that they knew)
That I'm happy when I really cry myself to sleep
To the hospital once again
Visit number 21
Back to sitting in pointless groups
Back to sitting in a fake classroom setting
Back to "relaxation time"
Back to being alone
Back to Bullshitting my way till I'm aloud to leave
No smoking, no drinking, NO LIFE
To the hospital once again
Back to being all alone
Back to fakin it till I make it
Back to dying once again
Back to hinding who I am
Back to the hospital once again
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