Don't blame me for the problems in your world. I tire of the drama. I tire of the conflict. I tire of the emotional turmoil. Just because you haven't found yourself worth, doesn't make it my fault. No one ever said the truth would be good. In fact the truth hurts. Lying would make the truth hurt even more. Handle the road blocks that the man-upstairs has placed in front of you. I know you can. I believe you can. I have faith you can. Problems in the future will be a mountain compared to everyday molehills. Overcoming these problems make you stronger emotionally and mentally. That does not kill you, can only make you stronger. Never give up in the face of danger. The easiest philosophy ever created is "just live your life, live it for the better not for the worst." And I only judge by a man's character, not the color of his skin. And I still don't judge too quickly, because people can shapeshift on you fast. If I don't tell you the truth, then that's a lie. So you think I'm going to lie to hold onto whatever you poorly offer? Like... Your respect? Your friendship? Your so called kindness? I don't care what you tell other people about me. That's their fault if they choose to believe someone that doesn't have all their facts straight. If you don't like the truth then don't seek it. Evolution is all I want in life…

Overstand overdrive. It keeps my heart alive. Tricky are your words. I swear you're trying to break this apart into thirds. I hate crying, so I cry through my lyrics. This is the sound of my soul screaming pain that cracks and shatters, can you hear it? Let's both be honest, if I mattered, it'd show. And all I wanted was a "hello". I just want the bond back, Earth. Even if it's not what it used to be worth. I am not going to force my emotions. While you frantically flee from your issues, I just flip through my pages while knocking back tainted potions. Ironically strengthening my heart and its system. Still dealing with that voice that whispers, "grab the sword and split 'em!" I know I'm poisonous in their lives. I know my presence is painful, like your ribs are being parted by knives. Are you are bomb and am I your vane? Does conversing with me slowly drive you insane? I mean, I overstand, "he's gloomy and I don't wanna be around that." I want those tatts even more, so you'll know where I'm at. After I journeyed into myself the light in my eyes died. And I tore from my face the disguise. I don't like sleep, because I feel I'm avoiding my problems. Cause everyone knows: fear is quantum. I can't rationally make sense of reckless action just so I can get some laughs. Enjoy your fun, I'm busy messing with my crafts. And don't you dare say I don't understand you. I tired to make various efforts, but you didn't follow through. You know I'm struggling and trying to make an effort, but you're cutting me loose? It must not be enough huh, I'm already a recluse. Such a multiplex is shared. You've slowly cast aside everyone, but I keep coming back, why are you scared? I don't wanna to be alone, but I'm preparing for it. I'll still be around, just watching everyone from orbit. Shalom.

He stands at the stone gates One that he has passed through many times A string of sigils craved into the stoney frame It wards off evil Two torches attached to the gates to provide light. He stands at the stone gates But for maybe the last time? He stands in basic clothing with a two-handed jagged teethed cleaver strapped to his back by a large black cloth. The colorless cloth has white fine words painted onto the strap, that reads "Overstand Basics" His leader a centaur with attitude compared to fire Stands there, human arms crossed Face blank, with a cold stare The young man is not swayed by these eyes For his eyes are more frigid, they have been for the past 3 years now. None of of his brothers are there to see him off, they don't know of this moment. His former leader turns tails on him and trots back into the encampment. He just calmly turns and walks from the gates and heads down the beaten path. Hours of endless walking Aimlessly walking The moon shines bright and rain begins to fall and quench the dry earth. The young merc just keeps walking through the rain, down the muddy path. The moon shines bright. He cannot tell if he is crying or if that's just rainwater flowing from his face. His eyes wide with a blank stare at the moon He falls to his knees, gazing at the glowing space rock He slowly let's out a thunderous roar Trying to instill his emotions into the Sun's doppelganger The roar sounds painful, as if the soul itself is crying tears of blood He grabs the mud and paints his face He stares blankly at his hands and gazes at the moon He laughs like madman as the rain washes away the painted mud and cleans his dirty hands Honestly... confusion can't let him grasp the situation The moon... it shines bright He removes his fixed eyes Stands and continues to stumble down the muddy path Honestly... confusion can't let him grasp the situation

Why do I write? I try to attempt to pull back the shroud of blight. Sometimes I speak with words that contradict my existence. But I aggressively speak out against passive resistance. What life should I live? Am I more than just a black sheep with a glacier for a heart, that I'm only capable of giving? The choice between conforming or individualism was more difficult than I thought. It hurt when conformity suggested that I rely on the things I bought. It hurt when I was told I'm going to be judged by my looks. Couldn't get knowledge anywhere else, but from books. My opinions changed, I even stopped listening to that mainstream trash. Which only expressed the basics wants of a young stereotypical  black male, which is cash. So since I took my mind underground, my music choice followed suit. Two years from that point till now, I saw no other substitute. People expressed a dislike of me indirectly. Something new, that puzzled me. Thoughts interrupted by one question. I asked "why?", because I committed no transgression.  And to my knowledge, I showed nothing but respect. I remember writing my first poem for the high school poetry club and I thinking with retrospect. "Was I saw as some sort of villain?" "And why is my only beef coming from women?" Both older than me, but probably not more mature than me. I just shake my head and think "oh what a tangled web we weave". In only two year's time I made four enemies, I guess. But to confess, I'm a senior with the same problems still, and do my best to avoid the stress. And to think, I used to find these people interesting. I sat down, broke down the events, realizations hitting me harder than a Highlander quickening. One of my favorite songs is called "Broken Thoughts, Frozen Heart". At first it was unclear like abstract art. So, why do I write? To ease the constant pain of life, even if it's just a slight.

We all have justifications for the things that we do. I know this lion that will give many to you. His son, the goat, tries to understand his cloudy views. He has painted pictures with different colors and hues. He tries to capture the emotion. He stares at these pictures for hours without motion. Breathing slowly trying to figure them out. He’s read many books, but nothing can tell his what this is about. A year later he understands the reason for many things that are coming to light. He’s trying to fight this ever raging war, with every bit his might. Forced to stand on the outside looking in. Left to fend for himself and endure the ice cold winds. He’s not fully sure how long he has to stay here. Not even sure if an exit from this icy world is near. It’s not too long before his heart and emotions match the climate around him. His cup remains half-full or half-empty, never full and seeping over the brim. He has learned to survive by thinking with his head. He’ll sleep when he’s dead, so there’s no need for a bed.

What happened to the undying empathy everyone once had? Instead we spit on the weak, express apathy and we're constantly mad. We worship cars, clothes and wealth, which builds our vanity. On the flip side the non-robotic units struggle with their sanity. People never want to hear the painful truth. Too busy poisoning Mother Gaia or going on a wild-goose chase for the fountain of youth. The masks people wear just to be accepted. Automatons that dance to the beat that is expected. It becomes painfully obvious that this will never change. Everyday it will continue to become worse and worse during the daily exchange.

Hard to breathe when the poetic precision locks up your nervous system like ten serpent bites to the mid-section / The eternal flames of personal motivation ignites at the enjoyment of visual perception / Abandoning my dignity in the face of calamity is disgraceful / My thoughts and movement would become heavy, not graceful . Once crippled by the doubt of myself / Each day I'm trying to become more content with oneself / They judged me before I'm even about to verbalize / The more and more they think or speak my name, the more my name becomes immortalized /

I was so used to all the drama. I got used to the thought of it never ending like series of commas. But I had to burn down those bridges to the cold ground. I thought they were a threat, but that wasn’t sound. I’ve had to install a new plan. I had to excommunicate some people from the clan. It seems like I’m growing tired of many people. Things have changed and it was definitely for the better. I have been writing free verses like they were letters. I let my train of thought run rampant through them. I saw the growth in my inspiration beginning to stem. Although it’s been two weeks and I haven’t been able to write jack squat. If I’m not in wartime I feel like I’m in a mental knot. I often spend hours thinking and listening to acapella. I think I would enjoy nights when the moon’s out and I stand outside in the rain with no umbrella. I can smile at the night. And I curse the light. Because it tried to contain my might. Feed me spoonfuls of lies and blind my eyes with blight. I scrutinize every aspect of my life with a microscopic zoom. Denotation is imminent; the last thing they heard was “boom”. I watch carefully as their dreams are crushed. The voice of their inner spirit becomes hushed. At first, I never understood why they were brought into my life. Assailment can be such a sarcastic knife. Please compare my will, to reinforced steel, cause it is unbending. This has truly been a bittersweet ending.

Here we go again, I've been quitely fighting this demon while trying to learn Algebra. Heartbeat racing, bouncing my leg till my foot starts to cramp. Trying to calm down by listening to music, but the shuffle feature always selects songs based on my current emotions. I apologize in advance, but I have to get lost in thought and handle this demon once and foreall. The clip slides into the gun and I bump the clip to lock it in. Pull it back, turn off the safety and let the hollows fly. Seven .44 eagles rip through its flesh. Its screams of pain seem to shake the room, but "Blood Reign" tones it out. The clip signals its empties with a click, gun smokes, and the vibrations still rattles through my hand. Heart pumps fast, though I breathe slow. Its mass falls to the ground and a black pool baths the creature. Its black pupils with a golden iris stares at me. I calmly reload the clip. The clip slides into the gun and I bump the clip to lock it in. Pull it back and let the hollows fly. One .50 action express hollow tipped eagle soars between its eyes. Thus as its life faded, so did my curse. My soul crying blood, but I cry none. Gun smokes and the vibrations still rattle through my hand. Heart pumps slow, I breathe slow. "Blood Reign" fades and I close my eyes. Its mass reforms and let's out a loud roar. I look back into his dark soulful eyes of hatred. It's disgusted by me, though, I do not hate it. It exists, because I still exists.

Blades collide, sparks fly. One, two, and then three die. Eyes glow burning red. Abandon the sword, use magic instead. Create a clone to double the fun. They'll fight until they see the sun. He exhales a longing sigh on his way into town. With a sadden frown. His mind is sequestered, but he doesn't think. He'll just sit in this pub and drink.

Me being brutally honest is no different from me being rude. But I still think my truth is somewhat tabooed. Now listen up and listen well. I have some truth that I must tell. I have tried to pack my thoughts into a nutshell. But I have too many and it begins to swell. Releasing mysterious forces that leave you drawn and compelled. I’m convinced that I must say this, I’m impelled. On a lone crusader's quest and I must prevail. I'm slowly building a citadel of facts, that expand at an enormous scale. The truth is that many people fear change. They can’t stand its new arrange. Relying on the lies from their so called friends. After they wrong someone they don’t feel the need to make amends. Let me sum this up so that this can be known. Demons suffer, and get trapped in a Third Density End Game until they atone.

The blank canvas has infinite possibilities. Where its artist can express his hostilities. Tell his side of things without being verbally disrespected. He lays down his soul so that it can be inspected. With his pen he writes out everything from different point-of-views. He knows the ledge, he’s read the analytical reviews. Only problem he faces is not having the proper level of expression. He reviews his life with paper and pen sessions. If he offends, he knows he shouldn’t care. They’ve already fried his trust in the electric chair. He loads the chrome magnum with rounds of coherence. A being with a beast that has an unquenchable, insuperable need that rarely makes an appearance. Once out in the open this creature has no clearance. Everything is about to get ripped with no interference. The blank canvas tell his stories and emotions. It keeps his vitality in check, so he can avoid the mental notions.

See I don't have much. Not many things that my hands can touch. A smile on my face never lasts long. See change is not something I see as wrong. Change can be either good or bad. I attempt to make things better, just by a tad. It's getting to the point I'll write like three poems in three days on one little pad. Releasing all my rage on paper when I get mad. Poetry is the expression of one's soul. Everyday I'm underground digging out invaluable coal. Each day I spend there I grow older. And as each day passes, I grow colder.

Trust 3/27/12 A five letter word, to some the word bonds two people together, Forever, regardless of the hellish weather. The merc's mother is a healer, A healer that taught him that almost everything can be mended. Even one's mind, body, and soul, The trifecta that binds the raw energy to its carbon shell. After being kicked out of the centaur's camp, He maybe thought his father the lion would finally help out, Strike one hundred and three the lion kicks him out. Now back to that same familiar path. Same one that taught him to appreciate life, To appreciate its pain and love, That taught him to the value of the things he had. From enjoying the taste of food he once took for granted, The sunshine, and even the various colors of green from the distance trees. Everything, Because this made him truly overstand evolution, And overstand, that you live by the sword, then you die by the sword. But trust? A five letter word, to some the word bonds two people together, Forever, regardless of the hellish weather. His last bit of trust was in the hands of this healer. And she crushed it. The healer, the one that taught him yin When the all the lion taught him was yang This healer does it mercilessly The healer felt the merc and his brother have done something to her Robbing her of her personal safely How and when? While the merc himself was sleeping? In heavy sleep at that. Waking up disoriented; breathing labored, eyes and lungs burning. Ejected from only an hour and thirty minutes He had guards telling him the joyful news of what had happened He's both shocked and angry His trust towards her? The healer, the one that taught him yin When the all the lion taught him was yang A five letter word, to some the word bonds two people together, Forever, regardless of the hellish weather. It ended this day Second chances, are only given in rare moments How many targets begged for their lives? The same ones that swore, and evened referred to hismother No longer does he have trust in any of his blood family Only his good friends have his trust A five letter word, to some the word bonds two people together, Forever, regardless of the hellish weather.

God casted Lucifer outta Heaven. Pride and Jealousy are two-thirds of mankind's worst sins. I deliver death. Courtesy of a metaphysical sword. Divide the shell from the spiritual. With a claymore crafted from antimatter from the radiation belt. Expel gaseous meth. Black lightning slashes through mountain ranges. You learn necromancy the hard way, Years of the void, no night or day.

The wreckin' crew, will bring the Absolute to you. Access my godform quicker than the team builds their Voltron. The gamma radiation turns to the weak to dust. A mortal man with alloyed marrow, my bones aren't afflicted by mechanical rust. I'm the downer you needed. For your consciousness to be seeded, just wake up. Your 3rd Eye slowly opens within less than a year. I swear you'll understand the principles of the matrix, it'll all soon become clear. Things you once loved, hate. Things you've hated, now cherish.

We calm certain people as our brothers and sisters... I'm more careful now... I'm trying to forgive those for their treachery. Tires marks across my chest from being thrown under the bus. You created separation, and never asked for forgiveness. Why must I always be the bigger person though? I remember you asked me why I always wanted to get outta class so fast. It's an easy concept to grasp, but I never told you. I considered you a blood brother. So the betrayal felt too real. I considered you equal to me. Other cats clowned you, thinking less of you. They never took you seriously. And apparently that's the same way you felt about me too. Maybe it was just a facade the whole time? Something I blinded myself, into denying? Those four years changed everyone. A few for the better, majority for the worst. My circle started closing after you left. Rest In Power to the cat I knew.