Good Morning

I want to show all of you mother fuckers love.
If I were anyone of you, I would no doubt hate me too
I want to show all of you mother fuckers love.
If I were anyone of you, I would no doubt hate me too

When you have this kind of talent you can easily put out one book a month
But most of y’all don’t. So after one and it flops I hear crickets from your side
Nobody gets into writing poetry to put the green in ones pocket

You do it so that you can release the pent up anger and frustration
To have the ability to tell your story for others who are going through it know
That not everyone goes through it the same way and it may help

But you think it’s all about money in the bank
If that was the case then poetry no doubt wouldn’t have lasted for as long as it did
Maybe back in the day it was profitable but now, it’s not.

The only way you can find ways for it to profit
Is to step on the mic and call it hip hop
I can easily write four to five of these in a day

While you all had to start your day already
I think I’ll just turn over and hit the snooze
I’m sure this evening most of you will be downing some booze

I want my brain cells to be firing in all ways
So that when you say my name you say “that mother fucker slays”



Dark Corners

My room has dark corners
Places where the light can’t illuminate
Spots for me to hide if I feel cold inside

I have hidden many times in those dark corners
I have caused myself harm many times in those dark corners
I know I’m not the only one who has harmed themselves.

But I know I’m one of a small number who would admit it
When it happens, it can be a hard thing to deal with.
It can have you do things that you didn’t think you would do.

I know I’ve been there
I know I’ve been there
I know I’ve been there


Exception …Inspired by @tokenhiphop

I was the quiet kid in the library, reading the sports section checking the stats.
But when the bell rang, that all changed.
I became the one in everyone’s targets

Five foot, fat kid, big head, speech impediment, un-fucking-popular
Just a glowing red target with all that working against me.
Almost could watch teachers and staff turn there backs on me

As the kids walked up to me, doing basically anything they wanted.
Giving me quick jabs to the ribs, spitting at me, bullying me.
I knew I was different but I didn’t know that I was..

The exception to the rule
School claimed it had zero tolerance, but it turned blind when it was against Ken

Started to skip classes, think one semester I only showed up for about twenty classes
Was always called into the vice principals office, getting yelled at.
He didn’t fucking listen to a single word I ever said.

Of course not, the moment he would admit it is when he knew the school had problems
He had the school board kissing his fucking ass for doing such a great job.

There I was the quiet kid, no voice
Well I had a voice but it was constantly muffled
They harassed me so easily.

It happened from moment I got on the school bus to the moment I got off at night.
I wonder why at times I sit in my basement shaking when I go out in public
Still hearing those voices, as I continue to be voiceless.

At times I still sit in silence and wonder how things would be if I took the way out
I know I didn’t have a big affect on anyone

I don’t think there was a day in school that I didn’t come home in tears
Most of the time I barely got in the door before they started
I know I fought them off countless times in that school

Here I sit almost 40 and it still affects me today
People told me back then that things will only get better
Sadly, no they fucking won’t



Thoughts swirling
Not sure what to write about
Always writing poetry, but also working on two pieces of erotica and a horror.

The second erotica originally started out like that, till old thoughts came into my head
An old thoughts of something horror I once attempted to write, but got frustrated with
I then stopped, put it out incomplete and walked away.

I guess it’s being rewritten
But how far do I want to take it.
I can just dip my mind into it, or go full blown, make it nasty and violent

Have people wonder what kind of a fucking demented fuck up wrote it.
How could someone think such things and write it.
Even push my own boundaries

I sit and I ponder
Thinking, about how far I want to take things
How much will it mentally wear me out

As my mind spins around
Like a record full of ideas, I’m almost in a trance
Not sure what to do, do I need to take a break from writing

Have I burned myself out
Am I breaking the edge of sanity ?

Guess, my padded room
And straight jacket might say something else



The media often dictates that a loner must be a psychopath
To stay shielded from the world and not understand how it works
To come out in violent rampages among the masses

Did they ever think that they made us like this.
How many famous nice guys do you know who weren’t what they seemed
Too many to count, to many to name.

They have all done wrong in the world
So a loner who is a nice guy appears to be public enemy number one
To be an easy target for the media

Since we have little to no friends
We’re very shy
But that makes us bad people

Or so I’m told


Emotions Firing Off

Back on the computer
With thoughts firing up
SO many emotions, even more thoughts

They can definitely get sticky at times
Over reacting or am I under reacting to save face
If I under react I have to explain a whole lot less when I give chase

A times my emotions fire off, I know I’m no different than anyone else
I know they’ll be innocents caught in the crossfire
Casualties happen unexpectedly, but I know many are similar as me

Emotions firing off in my writing
Cause I find it therapeutic to let things out
I use to keep things bottled up, but knew that didn’t do me a whole lot of good


Needing Alcohol

You know she’s going to be doing something she’s going to regret
A similar thing that she would be shamed for
One that would endure that walk of shame

But she has no shame, she use to surf for guys on yahoo chat
Looking for ones who would like her to crawl into bed
She’s planning something when she wants to drink the night before

It’s a common thing, it’s a way that she can build herself up
You won’t see it unless you know the signs
But the signs are already there

The payment has been made
The lie has already been told

She needs alcohol tonight to perform tomorrow

She’s already screwed up
Now she’s just getting used
By anyone who wants her

That time will come when that will get used against her