Category Archives: #culture

Insomnia

How I’m sposed to go to sleep ?

I’m living with PSTD

Thoughts keep controlling me

and aint no one consoling me

Feeling all this urgency

Its hard to get a hold of me

cop cars patrolling me

Tryna catch me serve the fiens

Coulda caught a body went up state

Before I got my first degree

But aint gone explain myself

And I don’t need a lame to help

Ambulance car outside

They say my nigga banged his self

That nigga should’ve hit my phone

Like “ yo Tah I’m feeling alone”

I would’ve smoked a blunt with you

I would’ve  took the gun from you

But Instead I’m at ya funeral crying

Still alive but my insides dying

I need a way to break the surface

Cause the liquor and the weed aint working

My depression got me feeling kinda worthless

Feeling lost got me questioning my purpose

And now I cant go to sleep.

Projections

Through experience and observation, I’ve come to realize that  no other person will ever be made in our image except ourselves. So that if there is a such thing as a ” soul mate” – or whatever phrase is more appropriate today- he/she will also be made in an image of their own and this will more than suffice.

I’ve come to find that the things that draw us closer to people are more complex than the  the images our eyes project. which is why I believe that what makes us of fall in love stretches beyond the natural senses, past explanation and reaches further than the  lengths of time and distance.

What do you think friend?

Many Truths

I know myself in ways that I could never explain.

At time I feel like a slave who isn’t aware of his own chains.

Other times I focus so much on my faults that I take an unfair amount of the blame,

using weed and meditation to alleviate the pain.

My goal is to escape to a place hidden from the eyes

And to no longer express anger or bitterness towards the people who have told me lies.

Often I find myself living two lives;

one on the ground and the other in the sky.

This causes me to feel like I’m running out of time.

So I’ve been convincing myself to do it all at once.

Making me too impatient for kindness inappropriately blunt, and blindly in love with women I can’t have until they give me what I want.

But on the other hand, I got this gift you see?

A style that makes people want to be just like me.

When I touch their souls I sense a purpose

and they love me so much that it makes me nervous.

If I knew where I was headed, I’d proudly lead the way.

But I’m still unsure whether I should leave or stay.

If leaving will hurt then staying will make me feel blue.

Guess this is how life is when you’re living many truths.

What’s reality?

I believe that we are all afraid and because we are afraid we create personalities as defense mechanism against this world which seems so unpredictable at times.

We never know what will or won’t happen and it causes us to create super hero’s in our minds; who’s jobs are to protect of from the chaos.

In effect, these super hero’s become personalities that we take on often take on to fight anyone or anything perceived to threaten our so called existence.

If this is true, if we can create various personalities based on our fears and perceptions of the world; how can we really say that who we claim to be or what we claim to see is real?

The Goat

Dear Self,

Lately I feel like it’s just me and you

Because no one understand the changes I’m going through

In my mind, if 1 wins, nobody can lose

So why do I feel so uncomfortable expressing good news?

Is it my fault that they got complacent?

While I built myself and reconstructing my foundation

I want it to be love but it feels like they hatin

Like they want me to fall and won’t mind waiting

Maybe they got used to me being broke

Now I be flexing like I’m selling dope

But you know something that they’ll never know

Like how even when it got dark I never lost hope

And even when it rain didn’t stop I saw over the rainbow

So I deserve the world and everything in it

And when I reach the top I’ll have you as my witness

Memoirs: How To Love

Had a lot of crooks try to steal my heart

Sneaking through my windows

Breaking in my cars

Smoking all indo (weed)

tearing me apart

Pills on the counter

don’t want to feel the scars

Because they hurt real bad

Like waiting for your dad

But he never show,

so now ya momma mad

And you just want to see em

Got ya your own swag,

but you wan to be him

Another unarmed robber

Tricking me with charm

Let you passed the gates

because you swore you’d do no harm

But now I’m on the cement

Lying here bleeding

All because I can’t tell an angel from demon

Memoirs:Theory About Riches

What does it mean to be rich? Which value do we use to measure someone’s wealth in this life?  Is it by the sum of luxury one has experienced? Or the pain one has endured as a sacrifice to see a loved one smile?

Maybe its measured by the amount of material things acquired over a time, or the magnitude of things we’ve had to let go in order to become better versions of ourselves. Whatever the case, If one’s goal is to be truly rich, their first mission should  indeed entail obtaining knowledge about the path they’ve chosen to embark upon (becoming rich).  Also important, they must be able to differentiate between that which is rich and that which poor. Unless this quest is fueled by an inability to see and  understand the real path; which is  truth.

What do you think friend?