Advice for the Wicked

Advice for those who ponder…

Don’t utter mean, vulgar, or degrade someone with schizophrenia. It is the worst thing you can do.

For example…

I hear voices 24/7. They tell me to kill myself, nobody cares about me, im useless, and my parents killed themselves bc of me.

So when somebody tells me that i am selfish, i dont love them, or that im constantly cheating on them…

It hurts/It is painful beyond belief.

I start believing the voices were right. It causes me to go into a deep depression. My hallucinations get 10x worse. Throughout the day I imagine different ways to kill myself.

When I follow or look at someone. It isnt bc I like them. Rather, I am hallucinating something and trying to figure out if its real.

In conclusion, thanks a lot. Now, I am depressed as shit and ideolizing suicide.

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Racism 101: An Elective

(Professor Hughes Enters)

‘In the old age, black was not counted fair,
Or if it were, it bore not beauty’s name;
But now is black beauty’s successive heir,
And beauty slandered with a bastard’s shame’

Sports Illustrated melanin models,
Asked if it is okay to be airbrushed,
Ignorant Somalis bleach,
White girls apply multiple Snapchat filters,
Everybody confused,
Not just the children of slaves,
Raped by (their) slave masters,

(Raised my hand slowly, afraid of Professor Hughes)

But professor, isn’t it true,
A Raven’s eye is black,
Personally, I believe Queen Sheba had brows so suited,
She wasn’t born fair, instead Black with beauty,
So why does creation continue to slander,

(Professor Hughes thinks for a moment)

For the same reason 4 black girls were blown up,
In an Alabama church,
And how 500 middle passage blacks,
Were thrown in the Charleston harbor,
So redcoats wouldn’t find them,
Can’t you see?

In truth, all we need is a deck of cards,
Maybe a dozen of sun people,
Black college dormitories,
Jazz music,
Fried chicken,
And some paper,

Haven’t you ever thought,
What the implications were,
For calling someone your brother or sister,
When they aren’t really your brother or sister,
It is called White Man’s guilt,

So Langston, what is the solution?

Should we let America be America again,
Should we let it be the dream it used to be,
Should we let it be the pioneer on the plain,

(America never was America to me)

Should we let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed,
Let it be that great strong land of love,
Where kings never deceive nor tyrants scheme,

(It never was America to me)

In truth,

I am the poor white,
I am the slave bearing slavery scars,
I am the red man driven from his land,
I am the immigrant clutching hope,

Finding only the same,
A dog eat dog land,
Where the mighty crush the weak,

I am the young man,
I am the farmer,
I am the warehouse worker,
I am the people,

Hungry,
Yet dreaming nightly,

A gangster’s death,
Rape, stealth, and lies,
Redeem the land,
Mines, plants, and rivers,
The mountains and endless plains,
Make America again!

Co-Authoring A Poem With Pablo Neruda

Yo Pablo, why don’t you start us off?

(Pablo coughs)

‘If each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me
ah my love, ah my own’…

To all the literate men and women,
Hip Hop rhymesayers,
I’ve read a lot of poetry,
Heard a lot of music,
Trying to equate women,
And handsome men,
To roses, sometimes topaz,
Sadly, they got it all wrong,

Yo Pablo, spit a little game,

‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved
in secret, between the shadow and the soul’…

How a man loves his mistress,
Or fucks his side-chick,
Isn’t the same,
As how a woman makes love,
To her closeted partner,

Stroking unforgettably,
Forgetting she’s waiting for a reply,
He’s waiting for me to come home tonight,
None of that matters,
Why?

We are going to get a little vulgar,
The way he fits in me, and licks inside of me,
Makes me forget about everything,
Wish lust could cover all my impurities,

Yo Pablo, bring it home,

‘If I used them for walking it would be across your back,
Right after I tie you up and run my whip down your crack’…

Blindfolded,
Hands above your head,
First a tease,
Grazing your tongue with my clit,
Next comes pain from my heels in your hip,

Dreamed of his or her sweet spot,
Tilted your head back,
Felt yourself getting closer,
Picked up the pace,
Simply a passionate melody,

Yo Pablo, the moment has come,

‘I let out a cry
Breathing gets harder,
We lean against each other,
As we recover from our high,
After an exhilarating voyage,
I’m now at peace’

Position For An Egyptian

This isn’t a love song, or an r&b fuck melody,
Honestly, it might cause feminists to finger themselves,
Throughout history, masculinity raped women in pornography,
Once in a blue moon, an Amazonian Queen came along,
Men on their knees, worshipping melanin and pum pum,

In 2018, men assume a woman is only useful if she’s sucking dick,
Twerking, riding, or taking backshots,
Things need to change, we need a Cleopatra to rise up,
Pray for a Phoenix,
Men to be reminded where they belong,

In between a woman’s legs, on our knees,
Pretending her pum pum is the fountain of life,
God’s paradise, the tree of Eden,
An apple meant for worshipping,
Juices meant to be swallowed,

Dream of a woman placing me in chains,
Locked up in chastity, handcuffed to her bed,
Teased and denied, used and abused, only for her satisfaction,
Accustomed to drinking Pepsi, now I gotta’ imagine, her Pum Pum as Pepsi Blue,
Scratch marks, hot wax, nailed to a cross,

Forced to kiss cellulite, writing erotic poems about stretch marks,
Mother of three, nearly forty,
Haven’t you heard, Black doesn’t crack,
Invited her three 20 year old daughters into the room,
All three pretended to be dictators massacring my body,

After 4 weeks in bondage, 24/7 between 4 pairs of thighs,
Non-stop pleasure and pain, electric orgasm torture,
Roses, chocolates, and Victoria secret pum pum,
Truth or dare, scissor choke holds,
Mother finished with light kisses, daughters refused to resign,

My Heroes

To all the broken hearted,
Mentally and physically disabled,

Emotionally wrecked,
Chronically depressed,
Chemically imbalanced,

Foster care kids,
Single moms,
Orphans living in cardboard boxes,

Bipolar ridden,
Schizoaffective,

Chubby,
Anorexic,
Picked last at recess,

Forgotten souls,
Homeless LGBT youth,

Institutionalized,
Surrounded by white walls,
Inmates thrown within cell blocks across America,

Men and women living in war torn countries,
Innocent men and women shot and killed by racist officers,

You haven’t been forgotten;
These poetic words are for you,
Draw upon my strength in times of pain,

Much love, KhalidThePoet;

Rough Morning Sex

I’m going to be polite, after all I’m a gentleman,
You work 9 to 5, before you go to work,
I’m going to feel on that body,
Place my hands on your pound cake,
Extend your legs,
Give me 15 minutes,
I’m going to be your alarm clock,

We’ll start with you on your side,
I’m going to please you the right way,
Let me be your sugar daddy,
Lick all that sugar off your chest,
Dripping a little bit of honey,
You’ll lose control,
Ripping our bed sheets in half,

After I raw dog you,
I’ll flip you over,
Lay you on your stomach,
Have you spread your sweet cakez,
Start with a gentle massage,
When you start twitching,
I’ll dive deep,

After 20 minutes,
You plead for me to stop,
Not a request but demand me to stop,
Can’t control your body,
It keeps shaking uncontrollably,
Eyes rolling into the back of your head,
Pulling my hair,
Got me drowning in your pum-pum,

I’m going to be polite, after all I’m a gentleman,
You work 9 to 5, before you go to work,
I’m going to feel on that body,
Place my hands on your pound cake,
Extend your legs,
Give me 15 minutes,
I’m going to be your alarm clock,

Let me do all the work,
Doesn’t matter if you lay still,
I’m going to wreck your life,
Roll you up,
Light a joint,
Smoke you real slow,
I’m going to kiss the inside of your rib-cage,

Take off every piece of your clothing,
Place your legs around my waist,
Staring into those brown eyes,
Terrified of what is to come,
Start with a slow blues rhythm,
Work our way up to steady house music,

Scratching my back like a daredevil,
Biting my neck like a vampire,
Red lipstick on my dress shirt,
Didn’t anticipate you flipping me over,
Riding me like we are participating in a rodeo,
Demanding me to say your name,

I’m going to be polite, after all I’m a gentleman,
You work 9 to 5, before you go to work,
I’m going to feel on that body,
Place my hands on your pound cake,
Extend your legs,
Give me 15 minutes,
I’m going to be your alarm clock,

Fourth quarter we gotta’ finish,
Can’t let time run out,
Keep up our strength up,
Kissing my chest with those wet lips,
Tightening your pum-pum,
Suffocating me by shoving my face in your breasts,

Your neck starts to twitch,
Hair flying back and forth like a rock-star,
Eyes of a succubus stealing my soul,
Doesn’t matter,
We’ve come this far,
Can’t let mortality keep me from achieving peak pleasure,

Sweat dripping down from your neck,
Ends of your hair caressing my chest,
Nails dug deep into my skin,
A little bit of blood dripping from your lip,
Asked if I am ready,
Volcanic eruption proved hell yeah,

I’m going to be polite, after all I’m a gentleman,
You work 9 to 5, before you go to work,
I’m going to feel on that body,
Place my hands on your pound cake,
Extend your legs,
Give me 15 minutes,
I’m going to be your alarm clock,