Rivers

My love isn’t lazy… it’s over worked. Force pushed from over-achievement to a cautious state of over analysis.

Baby you’re not hard to please, you’re simply hard to free. Your smile is a wand spouting magic across my soul, and your laughter is etched into my memory like a voice recorded note, but something still plagues my senses… something is wrong.

Perhaps no so much wrong as off. Your face is lit, but your eyes are smoldering wicks.  The culprit is either light or shadow, but I know this is some sort of trick. Deep in you is a yearning to sail away into freedom, but there’s an art to being a freed person and there are pieces of you that don’t fully believe you could be one.

Don’t ask me how I know this… I just do.  The shiny tracks running down your face and into oblivion as they drip off your chin are occasional clues. The way your pupils drift towards the sky, instinctively sympathizing with nature’s blues…

These are all tells.

But… you are my queen trapped in the castle. My princess secluded in the uppermost room. I will cross waters uncharted, travail the sands of time, and fight to break shackles with every breath in me. I will be your shining knight in suitable armor, looking sharper than a razor edged black marker. Trust me no one will go harder, when I reach limits I go farther…

You are the blazing heart that makes life brighter.

Warring Members

I’m sitting in this chair…

And I’m having the fight of my life.

My eyes force themselves wide, to take in the light-

Ignoring the fact that I want to close them.

My fingers… fly across the keys making love the keyboard….

My attentions softly caressing the screen- wooing her into compliance…

And poetry is born.

Intimacy breeds birthing which breeds legacy…

As I wage this war I am conscious that some part of me will be left here…

Something wholly unable for me to regain, but incredibly capable to replicate, and ice skate, where others have slipped and fallen.

My spawn.

My living child.

THIS is why I fight this battle…

THIS is why I duel slumber unto the death…

So that the punctilious life of others buried in the womb of my avant-garde creativity may be released….

FREED.

I fight this battle wearily-

Yet willingly.

**

~The Wordsmith

How To Love (Remix)

People spittin fast game, actin like you Nascar

In and out your doors, lookin for spare parts on

How to love, how to love

Lost so many bets, no longer believe in better

Freezin all alone, and prayin for a sweater

How to love, how to love, now you on stage

Got my hands wavin like your body, you actin naughty

Like you don’t know how to love, how to love*

*

Hey baby girl, I see you dancin so sweet

I’ll give you a dollar to put them eyes on me

I’ll give you one more if you’ll just show your teeth

But I’m also feelin lonely so I brought Ben with me

Cuz the truth is, babygirl I need you, I am addicted

An addict to fiendin, and on security cheatin

I’m so insecure, and so I need you in them lights

I might just fight myself tonight if your death don’t bring me life

Through the glitter on your eye-lash, I can see that you’ll cry fast

Starve yourself of tears, sell to fears, with no buy-backs

… Stilettos and lace are such a nice act

Cut when the curtain drops, when does the hurtin stop, do you want this mic back?

Drop it from the ceiling, we’ll both continue preaching

About the bio degrade, graded to us, on sexual healing

I never ever learned, and I can tell neither did you

How to love, how to love,  how live in truth

*

People spittin fast game, actin like you Nascar

In and out your doors, lookin for spare parts on

How to love, how to love

Lost so many bets, no longer believe in better

Freezin all alone, and prayin for a sweater

How to love, how to love, now you on stage

Got my hands wavin like your body, you actin naughty

Like you don’t know how to love, how to love*

*

I don’t know much about you, but let me tell you about me

Pre-teen, computer screen plus no screen equals pornography

Biological geography, ready for the lab

Trained by my older siblings, for winning, do the math

Egged on by my dad, who beat it, like Micael Jack

Encouraged a retail mind, keep my mind only on the racks

But my pop had a screw loose, my foot loose, cuz my shoe loose

Deuces to innocence, hola to boobs and who-whos

But you never know who’s who even if Horton hears it

I put more stank on my game than face paint for dang highschool spirit

I was a Macy’s stalker… call it a skirt chaser

My life was more a joke than flavor in church wafers

The punch lines became my strength, I was facebook pokin

Put my boulders on a hill, cuz I was stone rollin!

I KNOW you can relate!  Quit with the head shake

This scented pimped out you is like weave hair- fake

*

Faker than your feelings for me- cuz there are none

Broken men looking for skin- out of a grand I am just one

E pluribus unum, keep tootin and bootin em

But if you poison your seed from whence shall the fruit come?!

You’re better than that, because so am I, you should only ever quit if you quit to try

You’re so fly like a butterfly, gem in a crown, a flash of golden light

If I promise to strive, then will you join me?  Drop the pole drop, break free from lonely?

Head for the mountain top, live for life’s peaks only, solely, wholly

If you should dare to believe with me, then I can dare to believe in thee

We two can be leaves on a tree, launched from past into destiny

I can’t believe I’m offering, the choice I took never took to free

Myself, and others that are like me- this song is so enlightening!

Just accept this chance.  Don’t wait for another one.

There’s eternity at stake if you wait until Kingdom Come!!

I know it won’t be perfect but it’s the precious cornerstone!!

I’ll make sure that we learn how to love, HOW TO LOVE!!

*

People spittin fast game, act like you Nascar

In and out your doors, lookin for spare parts on

How to love, how to love

Lost so many bets, no longer believe in better

Freezin all alone, and prayin for a sweater

How to love, how to love, now you on stage

Got my hands wavin like your body, you actin naughty

Like you don’t know how to love, how to love*

Kree-Ayt-IV U

Welcome!!

This is the heart of creativity, and I’m your tour guide Intuition- the best friend of an open mind, but to all others… enmity.

There are three main leaves on this tree of thee, which when wholly applied bring the light to the scene like the sunrise to the horizon.

Passion/intensity.

Message/story.

Dexterous creativity.

It occurred to me that maybe the reason so many artistic beings drown so deeply, haphazardly absconding from their mission is because they have no clue- not the slightest inkling- of the heart within them.

Stronger than that of your church attending grandmother, more durable than that of a forsaken lover’s, more powerful than that which fuels the mighty sphinx, and created to be as infinite as He who crafted eternity… Artistically speaking your art should still be speaking, speaking of which- here’s our first stop.  Passion and intensity.

This lesson is pubescent- if you do not feel, then I do not feel.  Take your art and all the power that you wield and caress me against my will, willing me over to your side of the field… Woo me not with game because then you can lose, but entice me with the energy of a crack of lightning… Enlighten me… Take my lips and kiss em to the stars while bloodying my vision with an in depth view of Mars…  If your heart was broken in two, then break my heart in twenty, and if it made you chuckle then redefine my definition of funny.  … Be kinky with your art, and put your hand in my lap.  Touch me in private places- make me want to slap you, but because you’re so good all I can do is fall for you… The lesson is pubescent- if you do not feel, then I do not feel.

That was a glimpse- at the inner part of your psyche.  I hope you took notes and were writing, and put the sun on the word- call it highlighting.  It’s high writing like birds flying when the artistic words catch fire and begin alighting… Be free in your giftings… Here’s our second stop- Message and story.

A long time ago, twas a seed sown that sold a choke hold- It doesn’t matter what you say… only how you say it.  Such a deception has de-incepted the creative means- we no longer have layers to our dreams.  Consumed by being consumable, with frugal concern on the mass inflicted funeral… Shoving down content that only gets regurgitated, resulting in a generation whose ears are tuned to replays… Take a pause when you art, check thine heart, let it impart that about which thou truly art.  Whatsoever you are- let that come through.  Let it flow naturally and tell the story true.  There’s a light in you, that’s been shushed under a fearful bushel- It’s time to set that bush on fire.  Weave your art through the burning brier, and blast a gust of fresh breath where the smoke would creep in burning lungs and start eyes crying… The message is the medicine, the story the kool-aid it’s hidden in…

Ahhh there it is friend, the explicit details of your mission, re-written from that which the talking heads have given- don’t listen to zombies.  If you want to be life, and let your art live and be resurrected out of the grave, then you must see more than dollar signs because it’s going to require change… Here is our final stop- dexterous creativity.

Once you have your passion and intensity, wedded to your message and story, it is time to weave the final strand and activate your creativity’s internal glory… Dexterous creativity- do your art creatively, and creatively do it differently.  This tidbit is a full course meal and more serious than streaming radio on every frequency, for simply by altering locations and changing the delivery I’m now off frequency to free quincy, and purchase him fast glasses so he can frequent… see.  See?  It’s like breathing under water, through your art you can do things you never thought of, like part them and walk through or blow a breeze through tomato soup, or even paint a touching fairytale and touch the whole world with your stone soup.  The universe is back infantile, it went senile, and this is the last 8 miles.  Put your foot on the path, and lift the whole road up when you step, stay focused on your artistic domino effect, and the Lord Himself will meet us halfway and bring us up to Heaven… Dexterous creativity- do your art creatively, and creatively do it differently.

That concludes this tour of the heart… of YOUR heart.

Two of these arteries unplugged makes great art, but the implementation of all THREE is where the genius levels are…

There is one adage that exists and applies to all creative, artistic troops: “To thine own self be true.”

Create for YOU, to unlock the creative you, then fly high in the skies with your new creative view..

Be free in your giftings.

Be free in who you are.

Be diligent with your life pen- only YOU can make your mark…

You ARE your art.

**

~The Wordsmith

Color Me Calm

I’m sorry, but…

I’ve got to let you go.

If I don’t you’ll kill me slow like getting sat on by a sumo.

I can’t sit and sue no mo, I’ve got to clip this cord- solo.

I don’t want your advice, don’t wanna see you in the night, and if I catch you in my dreams I’ll be your nightmare til the light…

Of day.

We had a great time- so much so that the ticks forgot what we were tockin about.

We surpassed earthly limits with the words coming out our mouths…

But then you started hooking me like some street walking trout, and I swore I’d never let nobody pimp me, but that’s all that you’re about.

You played up doubts, and isolated my flaws, flooring me with your logic, capturing me with your jaws.

You sly dog, you really had me in your paws, but I got the magic to slit Santa claws, and I’m leaving you frozen in the fro-zone, all ice cold like Alaskan polos…

I relinquish thee, and give out free for free…

For the only path to self liberty, is liberating my enemy…

I see that now.

People… I let them know.

YOU- I let you go.

And now I win decks for my soul, enjoying new company like dollar presidents around a pole…

Pause.

Yep, I never fail to leave ’em slack jawed, learned that from my grandpop, hitch em to amazing by using shock and awe…

Welp I love that my enemies are still living,

Which means I’ve begun forgiving…

So long, this has been a long ending…

Unforgiveness- we’re DONE.

**

~The Wordsmith