the dust rises from the stampede of feet running away...
the pounding stirring the earth, wind taking its sway...
entering heaving lungs, overextending its unwelcome stay...
but unfortunately, this is not what im trying to convey...
why were these people running? what caused this rampage?...
birds taking flight, small dog stirring within its cage...
in the mad rush, even lovers went their separate ways...
a beast of sorts? hell on earth? a demon in all its rage?...
not exactly, all i see is a man, hanging upon his cross...
peaceful and content in his agony, thinking for a pause...
dying for us, we ran from him rather than giving applause..
we shed tears later, for we learned our gain was his loss...

-running away-

whispering in my ear, refreshing my soul like the fresh spring breath...
cool, crisp air stirred by motion, faintest hint of fog is what i left...
standing in this nights darkness does not fear me, i am alive tonight...
i only feel angels eyes watching me, the stars are my angels in flight...
the raindrops are the joyful tears of god taking away my restlessness...
moon shines bright, leading me away from the world, i journey my exodus...
a simple moment in my even simpler travels on this scarred battleground...
now i am ready to fight, i am determined to fight, let our warcry resound...

-determined to fight-

blasting at the sky, wondering if god will shed any tears...
shouting until my lungs hurt, concealing all my many fears...
in the hollowness of my anger, my words seem so meaningless...
fading softly like the first kiss, gone like childish bliss...
bringing people near to me, just to tell them get up off me...
blaming others, but its truly i thats killing me softly...
needing a solid truth, faith, and love to tightly hold...
needing god in my life, needing to stay true to the soul...

-blasting-

someone once told me to live life, but it seems like i struggle to survive...
searching for the positive but suffering the negative is no longer a surprise...
flashbacks to days of mellow living, mindless existence, positive vibrations...
one simple decision, life turned rough, i became an enemy of all the nations...
constantly hearing stories of becoming heroes, one man can make a difference...
the last time one man truly changed the world, all others put up resistance...
so why tell to me to be different? why tell me to be unique? its all the same...
making myself strong is in fact making me weak, a constant downpouring rain...
striving to be unique is in fact conformity at its worst, a facade of the proud...
if you need me, im struggling with the rest of them, try to find me in the crowd...

-this life we live-

in the darkness lies a man, dirty and scruff, clothes ragged and tattered...
still breathing, surviving, but his eyes reveal his spirit is shattered...
many nights has he spent crying, tears flowing down dirt stained cheeks...
too tired to even beg for money, even too tired to beg for food to eat...
he has given up even though the warrior within his soul longs to roar...
he gazes longingly at the sky, just one oppurtunity to be able to soar...
but he owns nothing, he's cried so much that he has no tears to choke...
this man is me, this man is us before christ, who has given us the hope...

-hope-

welcome to reality, welcome to the real world, how alive is your cross?...
woke up in the morning, slept at night, all in between seemed so lost...
now i rest restless, the world is now alive in my eyes, alive in its death...
my soul aches to give life to the world, a risen savior it has not yet met...
i am through shedding my tears, i am through crying for this hopeless cause...
how i yearn for the early days of naivety, for my life to be what it once was...
welcome to reality, welcome to addictions and disease, pleasant introduction...
ive opened my eyes to a world of sleaze, demoralization, pain and destruction...
it just is not the same any more, life no longer enjoyable since yesterday...
i see my own insecurities crumble around me, caught up in the worlds decay...
welcome to reality, in its utmost cruelty, devoid of any kind of blessing...
im still tired and weary of this reality, this life is so damn depressing...
but then i know that there is still hope, with new wisdom comes responsibility...
i kneel before the cross, you should come and join me, welcome to our reality...

-welcome to reality-

my legs are weary, 19 years going on 20 years of walking this bleak sidewalk...
the whole worlds against me, actually it probably isnt, but this is how i talk...
consider me young in reality, but i feel so frail in this lifelong soul of mine...
how many times must i endure these sorrows? how can i survive this miserable time?...
if this sounds cliche, it just may be, who knows what the future holds tomorrow?...
the words of men sound hollow, so still i search in vain for a leader to follow...
reaching for the stars, but my attempts to soar end up with me back on my knees...
seeking something, seeking life, seeking you to lift me up from moments like these...

-i am tired-

i think of you more often these days, but slowly, tears stop welling in my eyes...
it hurts me to know that i am moving on, but it joys my heart that god is so wise...
he took you into a better place, and until that day we meet i will not forget you...
sometimes i remember your passion for god and your old man laugh when i feel blue...
do you all look down from heaven? or is this world too sinful of a place to see?...
well i wish you can see what god is doing, how good he has been and will be to me...
one way he's blessed me is that he gave me you, ever since i was but a baby boy...
but you're gone now, but i promise next time i cry for you, it will be tears of joy...

-pastor jimmy rhee-

sometimes i feel so alone, screaming at the top of my voice, just to hear an echo...
sometimes i feel so wretched, miserable as can be, whole inner being feeling hollow...
sometimes i feel so oblivious, as if life is passing by hectic, while i stay mellow...
sometimes i feel so lost, searching left and right for something, anything to follow...
then i know you are there, comforting this lonely heart and filling it with love...
then i know you are there, healing my pain and misery and showing me the good...
then i know you are there, letting me know there is a better plan from up above...
then i know you are there, holding my hand and walking with me, just as a father would...

-sometimes-

as my tear drops slowly towards its inevitable crash with the floor...
a part of me goes along, each drop signifying one step to that door...
the exit of the pain, loss, sorrow and grief for all those dead...
specifically for those whom many wretched tears have been shed...
i'm going to cry until i forget the very reason for which i'm crying...
i'm going to cry until i forget the horrors of imagining them dying...
but for now, i'm left with only the salty taste of tears on my lips...
and knowing that to get to that door, its going to take many more trips...

-i miss you-

i, like all those who regret missed moments, miss the good old days...
the times of innocence when all was free, days gone by in joyful haze...
now a young child with cigarette hanging from his lips, thinking he's cool...
sparking Js, eyes glazed, mind blazed, little does he know he is the fool...
no longer innocent, his desperation sinks in, theres only one way out...
but thats a path not taken, god is not what this young child is about...
a patient man, pleasantly waiting, deeply worried, for child to say please...
for a life of hope and freedom, all this young child has to do is believe...

-young child-

aesthetically speaking, metaphors bore me, but reality is so shifty...
with synthetics becoming our truth, i think the systems out to get me...
even i profess zion, babylon, grassroots and zulu, the way it was before...
but now i view is challenged, like a pause in a beat, suspense is a bore...
does i culture matter? does i roots matter? does i thoughts even matter?...
these narrow roads i travel, sometimes i feel like a movie getting sadder...
from the moment of my conception, i was chosen even before i was born...
its all a journey through conscious existence, not forever i am torn...
so i see this story of mine unravel around me, i walk through unharmed...
all in all in the end, i will survive, with steadfast courage, i am unharmed...

-i walk-

i see a young street poet, moving with ease, speaking his steez...
conditioned by harsh realities, minds and pockets full of trees...
topics of freedom and revolution, emancipation and broken dreams...
how life gives ourselves esteem, and its not as it always seems...
laid back, slinky, walking as time has no resemblance of influence...
the streets have spoken in their souls, we have been through this...
with the funkadelic grassroots and a tattered jacket he spits poetics...
with eyes glazed and theories run wild, conspiracy and those aesthetics...
the very talk commands attention, liberation is a form of fulfillment...
time flew by, young became old, we have not seen the poet ever since...

-young street poet-

misleaded concepts of hallucinations brought by what the future reveals...
music dominated by the rhythm of my soul's pulse fighting with zeal...
if harmony was perfection, i'm living disillusioned in life's symphony...
my spirit leads unbridled and free, flowing with life's rhythmic misery...
walking in silence and writing in the peace of turmoil, life continues...
no matter what i observe in this world, there are many different views...
the insignificance of fighting constantly for domination befuddles me...
in itself is confusion caused by pride that finds it way to trouble me...
focus on music resounding within my mind i draw out its soothing echoes...
letting the rhythm ring, closing out all thoughts of my sorrow and woes...

-i music-

i stare at my paper wondering if im really inspired to write...
out of mind and out of sight, waiting meekly for the dark of night...
the daylight shining bright, mental struggling through a fight...
not everythings black and white, differences of mine taking flight...
my mind can only comprehend what is available to the extent of man...
if i could step any further, in a span of time it's what i can...
but then limits are set to be broken, its for me to take a stand...
and potential is our limit, potential as numerous as beach's sand...
but for now i sit and consider this specific moment in my time...
i see some inspiration in my non-inspiration in writing a rhyme...
it never was a crime to speak my mind unless it challenged mine...
i limit myself to inspiration to lead potential locked in this bind...

-inspiration-

this life i live transcends the barriers of my poetry pages...
as ink leaves pen and bleeds into paper for all these ages...
tempts my emotions with feelings of all different sorts and such...
intricate details of past exploitations for me are just too much...
simplicity in language is the grassroots truth of zulu nations...
honesty and deceit are in fact best friends in my imagination...
life cannot be contained and neither can those who bless it...
words of poems cannot contain one's mind, only express it...
so all in all, words and expression is in all cases limited...
but the life i live soars in winds on wings of the infinte...

-this life i live-

with eyes tight closed i look into the soul of my passion...
with ears hard of hearing i listen to sounds of waves crashing...
with nose clogged up i breathe deep the aroma of the city...
with mouth shut quiet i speak boldly on how life's a pity...
blind, deaf, insensitive and dumb, i hang on to my pride...
with the realization that revolution takes a greater sight...
a sweet tune of music, the aroma of victory, a voice of power...
i sit and meditate on the road i travel, tastes bitter sour...
the open path before me beckons in all directions, decisions...
i am a revolutionary in thought and life, that is my inscription...

-inscription-

the soul of my rhythm, the passion of writing...
the nature of poetry, the battles i am fighting...
the struggles of self, inner child in me scared...
i search for freedom, my heart and soul bared...

-freedom of mind: liberation-

it takes a question to be solved for a solution...
it takes a soul ready to fight for a revolution...
i am ready, i am ready to fight for what i write...
i am ready, i am ready to fight for what is right...
i will fight, i will fight for that which is mine...
i will fight, i will seek the freedom of my mind...
it takes the spirit of the revolutionary to fight...
it takes a loving heart to raise the fist of might...
i raise my fist as a sign of defiance to this system...
i no longer live to die, but to break this prison...
it takes an illness to discover a ones health...
it takes a revolution for i to discover myself...

-revolution-

with details of life's blueprints, i and i temple pauses for a second...
upon my hands, this simple truth and reasoning is the deadliest weapon...
the way to walk, the way to live, the way to think in a positive way...
the very definition of freedom, the assurance of love on an ominous day...
i walk, i live, i think, i ponder all things and write words and poetry...
i do things one day at a time, but with spiritual eyes on the end of me...
the very end of all things living, very end of the impossible, existence...
some deny the truth, some deny death, some put up such stubborn resistance...
but as i walk one day, one step, one thought at a time, it becomes real...
i grow older, i try to mature, i pursue all things with passionate zeal...
i develop my identity, i tell everyone the truth, all those who listens...
so i travel on, with my heart, soul, and hands clutching life's blueprints...

-life's blueprints-

desire runs coarse within my veins like family blood synergy...
passion consumes my heart, pumping desire to the rest of me...
visions i breathe, supplying the passion that propels destiny...
i eat the bread of life, all i need to provide me the energy...

-body style-

dont rape my sister, i was born an only child...
she's been my source of inspiration for a while...
she's beautiful in my eyes, she has a fiery heart...
passionate and intimate, she is a work of art...
don't rape my sister, she provides me all i need...
she works with my father, does not feed my greed...
she's always here for me, even before i was born...
i can't see her raped, all down and ragged torn...
don't rape my sister, she's about to give birth...
she is my life and all, she is my sister earth...

-she's my sister-

still meditating on growing into a better man, learning how to forgive...
made of spiteful bursts of anger, now that's a life i no longer live...
i and i temple rises above others, still seeking for that inner peace...
i will find the truth someday, as surely as the sun rises from the east...
this concrete jungle causes a struggle in me i can barely control...
always walking on these treacherous sidewalks wears a hole in one's soul...
but as i once was dying with hatred, now i die with assurance of salvation...
for freedom is achieved with a breath of relief, that is my emancipation...
i no longer conform to world's standard pattern, not in poetry nor my beliefs...
what do you believe? would you die for it? just let your mind conceive...
i soul cries out in anguish for those who don't trust the aftermath of death...
so i deal with my anger before it consumes me until my very last breath...

-growing towards end-

thank you father for being with me through thick and thin...
for carrying me across the raging river of hate within...
for always being one i can run to when trouble arises...
for being an omniscient being, all knowing and wisest...
i'm sorry for drifting away because you weren't cool enough...
it took me years to realize the diamond beneath the rough...
the love you had for me all along, i was too blind, too dumb...
i'm sorry lord for causing the death of my brother, your son...
sincerely, with love, the greatest thanks, your child, joe...

-to my father-

i love the aroma of the city, breathe deep the pollution...
everyone walks with a goal, heading towards mass confusion...
people seek everlasting life, sucking in those cigarettes...
the beauty of sexual lust, give me some AIDS and syphilis...
nightlife is so attractive, slutty girls in mini-skirts...
the city has a life it's own, destructive to this earth...
the wondrous sight of lights, attracting young and reckless...
only my father keeps me strong, even though i am often tempted...
so i will be different, living my life free is not a pity...
i will stay healthy, even while inhaling the aroma of the city...

-aroma-

isn't my memory of love forsaken and gone, for me alone?...
for my soul, for ym heart, for the place i call home?...
why do i ask questions, when i don't want to be answered?...
why do i write these poems when my feelings get battered?...
why don't i ever have any happy moments to reminisce?...
or is it, why do i never express my joy and happiness?...

-a question of happiness-

waves crash, oceans roar, drowning out the noises...
complex pattern of water, nature roaring its voices...
a simple phenomenon repeatings its thunderous applause...
screaming for no reason, a rebel without a cause...
the cycle of living, repetetive style with no end...
eat, work, sleep, from the beginning start it all again...
the slow speed of life, so much faster than it seems...
lying in a deathbed thinking of some childhood dreams...
please tell me i won't fade away thinking of the past...
but no matter what i do, the waves still crash...

-crashing waves-

caught in this maze of clever rhyme schemes...
the power to write anything my mind dreams...
reflect on days when i used to smoke trees...
feelign sorry and crawling on broke knees...
one step out the door into a cold breeze...
still thinking i might have that old steez...
my new self clashes with my past living...
the facade of past sinning fast lifting...
so poetry is my escape from world rhythm...
watching with heart in a curled position...
life travels on, i slow down to observe...
hoping to catch a glimpse of these blurs...

-growing in poetry-

still travelling the same sidewalks of concrete...
the cool, crisp air refresh i as i breathe deep...
unraveling my thoughts as i expand my lungs...
the conscious thought of speaking my two tongues...
in the soft quiet of night, hear me breathing...
in the ruckus of daily life, hear me speaking...
my thoughts dictate the simpleness of life...
but my words complicate the spiritual side...
words are empty but deliver like hollow points...
burrow into braincells similar to roached joints...
another breath, another thought flashed my mind...
but phrases pause at the tip of i, tongue tied...
another breath, refreshing soul and body...
watch my words because only i can watch me...

-breathing words-

as tears stream down my face, i am rejected
everytime i talk to the world, i am dejected...
as tears stream down my face, i meditate...
everytime i talk to the world, i hesitate...
as tears stream down my face, i and i temple...
everytime i talk to the world, i and i mental...
as tears stream down my face, i am expressed...
everytime i talk to the world, i am depressed...
as tears stream down my face, i am grateful...
everytime i talk to the world, i am careful...
like smooth jazz tones that pleasure are tears...
evertime i talk to the world, i face my fears...
my father is all i need, he wipes my face...
i and i temple step towards the worlds embrace...

-tears i've shed-

thousands of words couldn't explain my desires...
my one and true vision, my passionate fires...
if life was easy, i would hardly hate it...
but since life is hard, i appreciate it...
i love this world, yet i hate this world...
i see this life as a curveball hurled...
even if i swing, maybe i'll come up short...
but i want to swing away, but of course...
my swings are no match for this curveball...
cause life is like giving my all to my fall...
but maybe one day, i'll grab that bronze ring...
keep riding it until that fat lady sings...
love this world because i have my own path...
hate this world because i suffer its wrath...
but words upon words can't describe suffering...
just as words deliver the essence of nothing...
but my desires run deep into the core of me...
i speak not for you to seek, but for you to see...

-i emote-

what is the point of this life? aren't i just gonna fail again?...
if the destination seems miles away, does it even exist?...
if my hearts urges seems to put me in compromises, is it still worth it?...
if my actions benefit self, am i still one?...
is i and i temple living life, or suffering it?...
is my walk a simple walk to nothing?...
or is it some journey towards the spiritual plane?...
if i went without words, would i still convey my image?...
would i still be myself in this torturous existence?...
could i portray my mute view and still be me?...
or will i be a mere image of what i used to be?...

-thought of life image-

i speak words for myself, i write poems for myself...
i think philosophy and invision realities for myself...
but im the type of speaker who says what needs to be said...
im the type of writer who believes his poems should be read...
im the type of thinker who spreads his word to be heard...
i believe one's vision needs to be shared to occur...
but what about you? how is your life? what is your vision?...
do you have dreams? or are you content in this prison?...
do you speak for yourself? do you have your own words?...
do you think for self? does your mind soar like birds?...
do you have a vision? do you struggle through this fight?...
but what do i care, aren't i just in this for my life?...

-innermost living-

does my future hold a life of it's own?...
will i tame the beast or live life alone?...
questions i ask, but not solutions i seek...
for i know the answer within me, keep it discrete...
i and i temple, tumble through but give it my all...
but everytime i'm jumping into another pitfall...
one step at a time, but i get so impatient...
one miscue and it's one more situation i'm escaping...
i get mad cause i dont know whats coming up next...
so maybe i should just live life by television sets...
...
but then again, what time would be devoted to god?...
what time for writing? my staff and my rod...
my pen and paper, my mental, my thoughts, my poems...
my mother, my sweet mother, the very image of home...

-reflections in cool, crisp air-

it seems every person puts their trust into one...
whether it be themselves, their heart, their son...
but rather, i put my trust in a different one, one love...
trust is love, love is meaning, the meaning of...
...
well, i don't have answers, but my minds not screaming...
because my life has trust and love, i have meaning...
for my one love states the whole universe as one man...
for we are created equally, all made by god's hand...
so am i to discern or separate, who am i to judge?...
if you and i are equal, if the world and i are one,
who am i not to trust?

-one love, one trust-

it's not as if my life has existed in three dimensions, but if my life has depth...
meaning, reason, purpose, a light at the end of the path towards the embrace of death...
it's not a vision of fear, for i believe in the supernatural, a vision of peace...
a figurative metaphor for i know not, but still envision a light waiting for me...
i and i temple wanders while writing words in phrases that amazes even the skeptics...
a calm moment in a hectic life, a return not so favored, life is just as i have left it...
for i await towards death, but want to live life to the fullest beyond bland simplicities...
i yearn for the earth's embrace but yet i have not reached the moment of tranquility...
when one wizens and the very eyes become as ancient as the days of edens garden...
the calm serenity of one whose seen all the world has to offer and heart hardens...
the world takes i and i temple through a journey so voyeuristic, original yet crude...
when i return to the earth and my father, i know i lived not with a false attitude...

-awaiting-

walk these sidewalks of concrete, used to be just i and i temple...
walking in the darkness of hatred and anger clouding my mental...
laid back and mellow, like a third eye existed destroyed...
a struggle within me, the grip of despair, the mindless void...
the thoughtless journey, once hopeless, now a vision controlled...
found the answer to life, blood of the savior flows through my soul...
i still walk on sidewalks of concrete, i and i temple transformed...
but now i walk with a father, i will never again walk alone...

-sidewalks of concrete-