The First Day...

They say the last day of your life
is usually the most normal,
but for obvious reasons,
ends as the worst day of your life.

I beg to differ on the sentiments,
opinions of people I will never meet.
In my own altered and skewed vision,
the beginning of my existence tops all...
reigns supreme as the worst day in my short history.

Unarmed? That isn't the issue...
most people are unarmed for life's combat.
Unaware? DANGEROUS.
The most unprotected mental state and environment...

Perhaps mistaking snakes for tulips
and puddles for vortexes,
misunderstanding one's spoken love language
for verbal curses and Witches' spells,
sprayed bullets are taken
onto the body as cologne mists...

You are molded by hands that
you have no hand in choosing,
watched over by eyes that
you can't seem to read,

influenced by the liquors of that individual's life,
when you don't even know what drunk looks like...
I'm encompassed by Angels and Demons,
trying to make out who's who in a pitchblack room
and everybody's tapping me on the shoulder,
talking at the same time; shouting matches...

Yet you look to me for strength...
to be some type of guiding light...
I'm not going to lie to you,
I don't even know where I'm going...
barely know where I've been

Just figured out this life was a game...
how to win? Furthest thing from my mind.
I wasn't aware of what some call a "3rd eye",
so I'm guessing mine has gone blind.

It's okay to lose faith in me once you see me close my eyes
Sometimes I need a break from this world and my problems
that I don't seem to have the answer to in this crowded room...
But listen to me and take this with you on your journeys...
I only want you to not put faith in the wrong places...
because life is a gap-toothed bitch, and those are some big spaces...

don't focus on the smile, there's much more to be offered
as long as you don't lose sight; treat it like a whore...
I mean, have plenty of fun, but don't fall for her...
because the minute you think this is it,
you'll have the rug pulled from underneath you...
and reality is a hard floor to fall on unexpectedly.

Just brace yourself, it's what life's smile needs...
So the day that you look up and begin to see the beauty,
it'll be due to the necessary work you saw fit to endure.

Dr. Dre Process

He's got a problem, but everyone's dancing on eggshells
Wanting to speak up, but not incur his verbal wrath...
he's got promise and talent...or talent at making promises
"This is the one right here...you're it!"

But they never are...

He drops them and moves on to the next like connecting flights,
or a child with a room full of toys who discovers a new one
and each time, the toy has to be bigger and better...
...in order to keep his euphoric interest, otherwise...
on to the next that can fill the void he has
In trying to find the next best thing...
Lately, he's been trying groups...
adding what he thinks will work...
Yes! This is the one right here...you all are the hit!

...until later on.

People who care about his rep have finally spoken up...
To inform him of the damage he creates with this torrid practice...
"you're playing with lives here, what you do affects others...
it's far more far-reaching than affecting the ones you drop,
faster and faster as if the very label they're on is hot..."

It's to the point where it seems he has a disease...
if he can't pick them up, get hope and drop them, he's hurt
the shakes, out of place...what is one to do?
It's how he starts days & ends them...all with constant flow.
But if he doesn't stop, there will eventually be fatal consequences...
those that were dropped will come back to kill him...true enough.
So now he sees what must be done...and he tries to drop his last one.
The bottle's in the garbage, now starts the Detox.

The Powers-that-Be

The places that I travel when
I forget to remember where I'm going
all gassed up, motor running
but I'm on my feet all day
life needs a replay of the previous
events so I don't lose the lesson
in the sea of my eyeblinks
or when I'm here in my ear drums
somehow couldn't use my tongue
for nothing more than 143s
via text message that I spoke
with a pen placed to the sky
while I listened to how
it might look on a clear day
night sky filled with clouds
Scowled as I cried inside
displayed "mr. nice guy"
for a select few named "all"
it only makes sense to me
to fly once I fall,
to run full speed
the moment I hit the wall
to write only when spoken to,
to listen only when touched
to speak only while reading
to look when music is played

and to feel only when all other means have failed.

These powers are for good, even if I've forgotten how to use them.

In The Recesses of My Mind...(unfinished)

In the recesses of my mind,
class is still taking place
so the hallways are empty
as I walk searching for myself...
in a building with no mirrors.

The sun shines through the windows,
and the lights are off so...
the hall has that surreal
'light at the end of the tunnel' feel...
So why do I feel I'll never escape?
This is a hell of a school building,
where I'm trying to unlearn being a fool
for others as well as for myself.

This is my proving ground so to speak,
how ironic...stuck in a place designed for learning
where I didn't learn shit but how to hide
my real self from others in the light...
now that it's dark, I'm overexposed...
passing rooms used as examples,
friends who suffer more than I do,
smile more than I and appreciate life.

One has a sickness and is determined,
she pushes forth and does good for the world
even if it doesn't realize the need,
even if it doesn't realize her deeds...
I do.
I just want the sun to shine on her long enough,
where her grandkids can ask when her hair first turned grey
on a porch where she's spent half the evening
telling stories of past events and days...

But anyway, to look her in the heart makes me sad,
so I listen elsewhere as I walk down the hall...
I hear wheezing and a wheelchair motor,
the temperature is freezing as I approach...
The closer I get, the more hazy the view...
Tears have filled my eyes as my vision worsens
to see an old friend once heavyset and energetic,
crippled and fragile, a fraction of his former self.
He can't even wipe his own mouth...
but here I STAND and complain about food stuck in my teeth,
that I have been working at for seven minutes to get,
when seven minutes to use his arms would make his day.

Light dims...the skies are grey now...
No more hope at the end, unsure of where to begin.
I see an old picture taped up in the hall
about Donnie's death, now more tears fall...
I feel trapped within these four walls,
with no escape from others' pain
I don't know how to deal,
I'm really missing the rain.

The rain lets me be myself under it's protection,
cry my soul out while I figure out my next step...
but here I am, with no direction, in a hallway with no lights,
the smell of unlearned lessons in unopened books in upopened lockers
running into all my life's ills and concerns...
and I'm worried now...
Not because of what I've dealt with so far,
but because of what's ahead...

I've yet to face my own problems and past
yet to take on mistakes and situations head on
I haven't yet dealt with my little girl not being born.
Don't know how to handle not being wanted by my Mother,
handled the same way she handled my older brother...
Can't face my Father for looking me square in the eye
and verbally passing off his life's largest lie.
I know the truth, as I've always known...
For all of the genius that is recognized by them,
why do they treat me as if I'm colorblind?
as if I can't make out what the signs are...
So I stopped once I began to see Red.
I couldn't do it anymore; I almost wanted to see them dead.
See, respect is a two way street in my eyes,
and they walked to cut across the grass...
as if my 'respect' and theirs would never meet.