The weightless man

‘the weightless man’

I used to think money was synonymous with power.
I used to think walking away was being a coward
I used to think space and time were only inches and hours… I used to think too much, and realised to little… I realised brittle, foundations will topple even the tallest towers
I realised letting go will surely see your soul scoured
I realised i was made by, and for this world
The way a tree makes a flower
Created to create, to blossom into somthing great, before i fade away again, back into time and space… I used to think, until i started to realise, now i can be…

Something bitter 

Craving something bitter

Sugar coats never seemed that sweet to me, eventually, I’ll look past the disguise and see, what was meant to be…
There’s always something more, behind what we hide, always a silver lining, our pride forces us to deny, although reality might not be your cup of tea, it will always be mine. So say it straight, hit me with the punchline, but spare me the white lies.

I want to see the light, even if it hurts my eyes. Because I would rather look for beauty in the ugliest truth. Than look for truth, in the most beautiful lie.

A new balance

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yin yang

Peace in one eye, love in the other, too blessed to be stressed and too cool to be bothered …

not that she didnt care, or couldn’t notice…Even those wo claimed to know her wouldn’t know this, but at one point she cared more than most did. The winters of life had forced her to grow colder shoulders, but after a while its was too hard too ignore what her soul had told her…. so she took a trip, took a chance, trusting the cos=mic forces to bring her a new balance…

she did just that, then came back, with peace in one eye and love in the other.

In colour and in rhyme

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the walk

“We are all here for a reason on a particular path
You don’t need a curriculum to know that you’re apart of the math
Cats think I’m delirious but I’m so damn serious
That’s why I expose my soul to the globe; the world
I’m tryin’ to make it better for these little boys and girls
I’m not just another individual
My spirit is a part of this, that’s why it’s spiritual
But I get my hymns from him
So it’s not me, it’s he, that’s lyrical
I’m not a miracle, I’m a heaven sent instrument
My rhythmatic regiment navigates melodic notes
For your soul and your mental
That’s why I’m instrumental, vibrations is what I’m into
Yeah I need my loot by rent day
But that ain’t what gives me the heart of Kunta Kinte
I’m tryin’ to give us us free like Sinke
I can’t stop, that’s why I’m hot
Determination, dedication, motivation
I’m talking to you of my many inspirations
When I say I can’t let you or self down
If I were on the highest cliff, on the highest riff
And if you slipped off the side, and clinched on to your life,
In my grip. I would never ever let you down
And when these words are found
Let it be known that God’s penmanship has been signed
With a language called love
That’s why my breath is felt by the death
And while my words are heard and confined to the ears of the blind
I too dream in color and in rhyme

So I guess I’m one of a kind in a full house
Cause whenever I open my heart, my soul or my mouth
A touch of god reigns out.” 

This poem by j. Ivy. was recorded on the track “never let you down” on kanye wests graduation album in 2004 .

 

 

Shadow of supremacy

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 They stand against the light to cast shadows, that make our paths dark, it’s no wonder we got lost on our way home. We once sat on gold thrones, now we beg thieves for a place in our own home…

we’ve been taught to fight their shadows, with the shade we throw, while the grave they dug for us grows and grows…Go to their schools to borrow our own ideas, the innovators become imitators, in hopes to integrate, into their hateful ways..  

 When they can’t break us, they’ll force us to bend, and blend, into the violent trends they set without regrets. They’ll pretend to be our friends, tell us they mean “no offence” …while keeping our very being misunderstood.

Until we end up in a shadow war with no end. Cast by burning crosses ,pointed hoods…and fear 

 

A Pegasus perplexus 

A zebra, made to stand out, forever wild and free.

It seeks to rid itself of those that would ride on its back.

It strives to know it’s stripes, not to earn them…

For with that wisdom comes a new genesis of elegance, the birth of the peagusus.

Made to fly high above life’s perplexus…controlling the reins of its own destiny… Reigned over by no man.

 

Forever wild and free…

 

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concrete jungle

In this capitalist climate, where you’re only as good as the goods and services you provide, the way you’re taught to market yourself is often mistaken for a personality… When really, we’re all just products of the massive factory our environment has become…put some pretty packaging on, and hope you fit in with the rest of the breathing statistics.
It is, however, what it is… Get lost, or get with it… At least that what they tell us.
When they can’t see what propells us. They’ll say we’re headstrong and overzealous…but the sad fact is that, living or loving freely in this mad factory, will leave you labelled as rebellious…

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1

Alone in this struggle, alone with this pain, alone in my bubble, alone in my brain.
Isolated from things I thought hated, yet my heart still beats heavy, and my moods all feel weighted.
Sourrounded by all I once saw as pure, but still feeling dirty inside…
separation is no cure…
De-rooted, so all my effort became fruitless…only under these barren branches do I realise what the truth is…
Every problem I have perceived in another, is also my own. Every struggle I have faced is somewhere I’ve grown… And  I never have, or ever will, do anything alone.

bonding

Paper tigers 

Paper tigers on the paper trail, earning their stripes without fail.

The Hunter talks of taking the beast by its tail, while the shepherd tells comforting wife’s tales, to the rest of the villagers praying not to fall prey.
Those from the west begin to flee east, from the heardless beast, that didn’t roar to be heard. The eye of the Tiger speaks a thousand words, all of which are echos of death.
Prowling quietly, growling silently, crouching low before it pounces violently…

Shades of black and bright vermillion, like a frightening fire that freezes millions… The Hunter tries to ride the Tiger wild, the shepherd would rather see it tamed.
They all fail to understand. To the beast, everyone is game… regardless of where they may stand.
Paper tigers lead us to the paper trial…