My Street Corner

If I need inspiration, I’ll call upon my own self-conceited admiration,
Maybe a better word would be self-confidence,
Low-self esteem,

Imagine Langston Hughes on a street corner begging for money,
Similar to Edgar Allen Poe, his unpublished work,
Waiting for pennies, dimes, and nickels,

If pedestrians paid attention they would realize,
The fish bowl to my right was filled with tears,
Developed by my own eyes,

Standing upon a soap box,
No matter how much soap I use this depression stays,
It talks about The Boy In The Elevator,

For me to sing along with Weird Al,
Elmo’s got a Gun,
Bernie’s on Fire,

Asians and Indians,
Grocery stores,
Black stereotypes,

Half bakes men and women,
Falsely observing the Black Sabbath,
No clam, No fish,
Does it sound familiar?

As the sun goes down,
My mind speaks tactile hallucinations,
They look real, feel real, sound real,
Am I wrong?

Mentally ill,
In love,
Who has the power to confirm or deny?

A mere 13 dollars and cents,
Musical notes,
Stars and concepts,

Walking a lonely road,

Playing the harmonica,
Calling Kirk Franklin,
Suggesting to travelers,

Do not pee on 16-year-old girls,
R Kelly is dead,

9 Lines

Medicine every morning,
So that the rest of my day is bearable,
Swallowing pills after dinner,
So that the rest of my night is bearable,
Without a physician,
My fragile existence,
Old and grey,
Am I alive,
I dream,

Worth Living

Life is a journey,
It is easier to love another,
Harder to love yourself,
Most people give up at this point,
I would be lying to you,
If I said I love myself,

Most of the time,
I’m in conflict,
Not sure if I am capable of it,
What good can I find,
Looking inside of a broken soul,

Most common response,
Broken just means,
You can put what cracked back together,
Is it possible?

A small part of me,
Knows I am alive,
When I hold my wife in my arms,

Everything flies by,
Accidental epiphanies,

Such days are seldom,
Most days I ask for reason,
Writing rhymes meant for production,
No one listens,
They are placed in the trash,

Similar to the majority of women,
Who believe they will enter Hip Hop,
Clean and preserved,
Only to be turned inside out,
Given a nickname like Candy,
Told to drop it,

If I had a choice,
I would welcome a revolver,
After going over my options,
My lover and I,
Cause havoc under bed-sheets,

All these armies rising,
Don’t stand a chance,

Borderline Personality Disorder,

Fuck labels,
We are going to terrorize,
Entertain one another,

Life becomes colorful,
Worth living,

Partial Hospitalization Treatment (VLOG13)

Partial hospitalization provides a structured program of outpatient psychiatric services as an alternative to inpatient psychiatric care. It’s more intense than care you get in a doctor’s or therapist’s office. This treatment is provided during the day and doesn’t require an overnight stay.

Our Type of Love

The type of love we have,
It isn’t Indian Love,
No Karma Sutra Love,
Our Love…

Waking up from a nightmare love,
My woman wraps her arms around me,
Feels me shaking, cold, and whispering,
Afraid of what stands before me,
Keeps repeating nothing stands before us,
My wife protects me from assailants,
Both physical as well as metaphysical,
Spiritual as well as sensual,

Beautiful both inside and out,
Strong enough to face winter storms,
Without any armor,
Face to face with the Roman Empire,
She’ll kill every single one of them,
If it means I wouldn’t suffer,
Any longer,
From all these ailments,

Doesn’t matter how beautiful the stranger is,
Where she comes from,
Or how sweet she speaks,
My woman protects me from Satan’s poison,
I got Xena Warrior Princess,
Protecting me from hoes and thots,

The type of love we have,
It isn’t Indian Love,
No Karma Sutra Love,
Our Love…

Thank You Letter To My Wife

Going through rehab without a lover,
Similar to DMX pretending to be clean,
Even though he’s using everyday,

Everyday is God awful,
But it is possible,
To smile even though,
The pain far outweighs the sunshine,

It is because of her,
My Bonnie, My Queen,
My One and Only,
She never gives up,

Without her I would be drowning in my own sorrow,
Unable to get up in the morning,
Relinquish all my rights,
Invite death into my bedroom,

Honestly though…
She keeps everything hood,
Everything straight,
Everything 100,

When I am tired and can’t work,
She explains paraplegics are winning Olympic games,
Families are being kicked out of their homes,
Foreclosures served on a daily basis,

Without doubt, she’s my diamond,
I wouldn’t say I found her in the rough,
Rather I found her sitting on top of a throne,
She picked me out of a crowd full of jokers,

This isn’t a story, it isn’t make-believe,
She’s got brown skin and a heart of gold,
Caramel thighs,
Melanin, pigmentation, gotta’ clench my thirst,

Such a poem, is a thank you poem,
It is meant as a form of worship,
Thank you; dear wife,
For not leaving me; you had so many chances,