Thrown Together thoughts that sound like Poetry

Do you know what the fuck you’re doing?

Sitting on the edge with compromise on your mind

The opportunity is flying through the air while you sit and dine

The world is ending while you sip wine on your gazebo feeling unbreakable

This is the time where we riot and the part of the song where people can’t be quiet

No more time to dance let’s just stomp

Chaos represented by the flows of this warmongering

Life isn’t what life used to be, all I can and all I can see have become far from the past symmetry

I’ve got guns on my temple and a template that appears simple

Shock the masses with something so damn unoriginal, not scared of losing your life because if you feel so tough you must be out of touch and a little slow

If I died I’d have no doe, and couldn’t say I modernized shit, just went with the flow

Trying to understand life the best I could, picking skin and scouting celebrity deaths and saying when

Why do we love ourselves less then Hollywood girls, within our eyelids are daggers not pearls

Within are hearts is acid

I don’t have shit and due to corporations I hate myself more then you could ever guess



Your life is fantasy so waive your rights
I’m infiltrating systems like a parasite, done seen people get themselves slashed over some dumb fights and long nights, it’s good times in the ghetto like dynamite
I’m screaming all types of stuff in Swahili, think you get your way getting all touchy feely, gone way to far to back out since you disrespected the family
Gonna slay some hogs, train some of the most vicious dogs
We’ve got dope in one hand and scares on our wrist
Spoken words but these rhymes can’t be heard because I’m getting so pissed, use weapons as words so I traded in my fists but now it’s crunch time so it’s less doing more dying and I can see myself bleeding out now and my grandma crying
Don’t know what the war stares for, because when you’re treated like animals it’s hard to be cared for. My tears, well they were symphonies dedicated to you
Ain’t got time for no sentimental shit that doesn’t stay true, somewhere located in between the Green like blue, I was only planning on taking you out but I’ve got time for two, it’s time to yell because I was raised in hell
Got white boys talking Ebonics on the new cell, they feel their inner tenement
Got fucking punched in the mouth, I think I taste cinnamon
Turns lemons into Kool-Aid, corporate mechanism and don’t worried you’ll get paid
Life’s a game and she said that sucks for you
Negroes with broken fingers throwing up signs from Timbuktu
This is my time and if I don’t destroy this shit before one I’m going to count until two
Learn about the ghetto not from the school of hard knocks but the future of electives, change to a different perspective
An old fiend or a dumpster with a stillborn baby, half dead dogs and some skunked out ladies
Cat’s been run over, whooper junior that has the rabies
We’ve got to fight the power, with a few good words because the absurdity is beyond comprehension on a nickel bag of dissension but I’m sorry I can’ t bet my life on Christ’s pension
Finding tension in my families lesser intentions, and looking at brighter days in my funeral home lynching

Do or DIE

I teemed with Inspirations, Jr. King created the Team of Leaders. Our words are decidant in wife beaters, while the bar us set so high, these days the monsters half step while the new generation calls in the bets. The captains feel the crunch, the business is out to lunch, our craft was created straight from the roots of the milieu with enough persistance to kill you while staying calm, i leaned over to light my passion ftom the flames of an H-Bomb

The old takes from the new, thats why their verbatim sounds like something we grew. There is nothing redeeming about these youth, they dont need sauce to eat your face, and when the law persists they stay silent with style and grace. This is monoply, we role the dice just to keep going, my ma was robbed in a vicious way. Should I wear a suit and tie, to cover my scars as the ignorance starts to multiply. The misconception is when you do something wrong you die, is that why my race is haunted by Trayvons cry? Or when our dividend falls short again and again, should we riot or discuss the weather with a politician, because i see clouds. Ill look the other way, say yes to my white master and shut the fuck up, because there is no god, just luck

The man on the moon yelled Do or Die, but Im still to sick with skill to listen, ive been over the hill and oh lord im ill, suffering from symptoms of my philosophy, and I still vomit when surrounded by mediocrity. Sing to the Truth, Sing to a cry, because i cant take it anymore. Jr. King’s a savage, but these arent times of war. We celebrate peace, however our insecurities endorsed and advertised, like we are the undesirable beast. Its end of the lies, we can come together and fight. There isnt anything to occupy, but there is light to shine, so lets shine it bright. Its positive over negative, right?

While observing flowers and doves, preach about why we should love, all of each other, Ill be raising these offspring like a mother. Perform open mics in candy shops, with all day suckers, channeling my inner motherfucker, i made a fashion statement with a bulletproof vest, im not the best yet, some people should write Grandin down so they dont forget me before i become a vocabulary vet. Tell my mom’s co-workers to friend me on facebook now, before i become the Day-Grandin farms most valuable cash cow. I growl as I plant seeds into the lands my enslaved brothers once plowed, the pain you once allowed, and now we have latinos running blacks out. I had a vision, to make the smallest incision, and make it grow with a fastidious precision. My grandma told me, boy get off your ass, its time to write. So to her delight, fuck your feelings, ill have your dignity hanging from the ceiling. My grandma sat me down and said Follow your dreams its Do or Die, so i started to cry and i made my limit the sky

Spitting in the Face of Trauma (ill)

I want to bleed them dry, I’ll Never die, ill immortalize my name, Although I’d take a very nice pen over nice cars and fame, Go!


I’m gonna dance as your pendulum swings, I’m gonna grace the sky as you start thinking about when to begin, No! I want to end when they start spitting benign words, I want to roll my dice and never die, and I want to take your pitiful ego and bleed it dry




I hear them laughing as I wake up in hell, but I’m a chemical that doesn’t mix well, I’m perpendicular to sick, parallel to whatever is left, I want to go iLL and stand still, I never took my eyes away when I wasn’t the predator but the kill


Now I dance to an ominous tune, I’m the king of the hill, independent of the population’s unrealistic lust of the dollar bill, I repudiate therapy and request for the slub to twist aside, I smile as the painful episodes subside, this is the season and I’m ready for war, but I have to stay alive as my mind contemplates treason, I continually attempt to outsmart reason




I told you I’m a chemical that doesn’t mix, above adolescence so please save your tricks, you cant insure this type of fire, you can’t stare at the starlight as the game switches lanes. These rules are insane, but my grandma said beat them up, Plain




Yo, you don’t know my past so don’t judge my present pain, you can’t predict my iLL tendencies, you could pick the day when I’ve fired my restraint, and I’ve earned the right to reign upon what is left, I’m Ambidextrous, so I’ll always have the upper hand, I’m a poor excuse of a man but I have the most desirable girl in the land, YES!




Every time I publish a poem I spit in the trauma that won’t leave me alone yeah, because you aren’t talking to a typical body laced with perfection, this is the shit coming from the poster boy of something killer that embraces his own rejection, I’m just iLL far from an infection. I rock my head to Indie pop, my wordplay transcends a common flow, call it Poetic Diddy Bop




Yeah, I’m Going to Do it, make it look pretty in every way, I want to be her city everyday


Yeah, I’m going to Do it, stand by everything I ever did say, I want to be with my Dad everyday




Motherfuck this god damn Cabaret, I’m gonna glorify my sickness and Identity. Don’t step on my amendment, constantly, this is way too dramatic to be a play, but don’t distort the arrangement or skip the foreplay, you’ll have a youthful Killswitch Engagement, so watch what you Say


Stay and mix my emotion, I think about disses and chaos, as my cat pisses and licks his missing balls, just like I wrote this piece and duty calls, my grandma told me, beat them up plain


Touch the sky strong, and make my spherical heart oblong, I’ll turn my suffering into a song, a golden oldie instead of trying to keep it where it belongs. I wrote survivor art and a renaissance, I’m far beyond living for what’s right and wrong…


I’m going to do it for my grandma so every time she wakes up, she can see her grandson is keeping it tough


I’m Going to do it for my grandma so every time she wakes up, she can see her grandson is keeping it tough


Hit It Yeah! I wish life was fair, but I have to enjoy the time and not make it so rough, I’m gonna hold her hand so when she wakes up, I can remind her that I stayed tough…



The Prodigal Son

Was it me who created this monstrosity? I added oil to the flames of my animosity! Practically calling out this hypocrisy, the way I spit these poems you’d think philosophy was in my genetics like I’m a distant relative to Socrates!




Lets Hit It! First do you hear those drums? Model citizens with fucking razors resting between their teeth and above their gums, I feel like a fiend combining funds, I spit and run, people figured I’d have faded by now, but how could I? When I’ve got a lot to say, life is a play, save the drama for Act Two, this is Act one, the evolution of the Prodigal Son




Can you Feel the Flow? The fluidity, I fear that each line has its own original identity. I used to dream of going to on a big vacation, poor so forget it, thought about horseback riding  instead of the Caribbean but the closest thing I got was watching pornos with sybians. Don’t say anything, but I’m beginning to sharpen, be fearful and disheartened because my body is weak but my mind is a Spartan




Do you feel the Anger? I spoke in Tongues, people still say Jr. King is a fucking bum, First it was direct publishing, now I’m flourishing after I mugged the industry, some people question my ability after they question my history, I answer in story and in mystery, I want to show you what Glory means to me. Your dealing with a poetic virtuoso, so much rage that I spit evil, this was the moment when I didn’t feel well, this wasn’t the life that I wanted, this felt like hell.


 Hating all these motherfuckers would leave me looking gaunt, the past and the present are liable to haunt, my body hurts, my brains swirling, I say I vomit creativity but now I’m really hurling! I thought in my mind about hanging myself…


Just so everyone can piss on my identity, if I did that my work would only mean something to me, I had so  many doors to go through but I lost my key, I digressed into a abyss, everyone hates me so fuck this…


They put my urn on the top shelf, not a Quran or a religious symbol, there was just no where else. My mom wept, but she grabbed the urn to overcome the fear, looked inside and there was nothing there…




Killing myself fuck that, and I’m still breathing, I’m alive, I am seething  but I cant Die!


I’m believing in my pen, in my work, that I will beat them , I wont Let Go!


But I’m still bleeding, I was still bleeding, It hurt to see that I may never be who I wanted to be, but it took so long to see that I’m already more then I ever fucking thought I could be…




I’ll Keep breathing, the light is lungs, I still hear the drums, The stress weighs a ton, but I’m strong, its time to right all the wrongs, stay where I belong, I’m a King, I’m the One, I’m the Prodigal Son

Death of Love


Did you remember the first time we held hands

Sliding across the couch not sure what to think or what to know

Where we were didn’t matter, we didn’t know where we’d go

We’d count to ten to open our eyes

Close them for the rest of the night

It was like finding god, a lovelorn soul finding their way

Things never changed like that before

Missing each other on a frosty night singing songs into the phone

Crying yourself to sleep now that you’re alone

But the death of love is nothing to be scared of, it’s just a clock ticking on

Your departure haunts my very sense of safety

Because I remember when we’d go to the river that was south of my land

Writing down everything you said, while the voice in my head reminds me that we moved on

I look at the screen expecting your call

I think to pick you up in case you would fall

But as time goes on

Time goes on and our love seperates as the seconds pass

I remember your skin so soft, but I knew that we couldn’t run past the horizon

And the death of love isn’t something to be scared, because it’s a fire blowing out

For my Grandmother <3

My Grandma taught me everything i know, and one of the things she repeated often was, “Dont Take No shit from nobody.”


Painted a lullaby and the child inside wanted to cry, physical description to show how I’ll die, I’ll replace every swear with a bleep, clean up my act and pledge in some prayers that my soul is for god to keep, fake like I’m indebted to religion, indentured to some sort of spiritual beginning. Buts its my Grandma who I’m owing, Edwina the Queen, I’m not going to fake like I have a hard gangster lean, but my family started the new haven scene, it was 1950s, travel back in time to get the definition of mean


A Clip of even numbers in my umbrella, alphabet cars painted blue, red, and vanilla, switched from acting hard to a pink hat like DJ Yella, and now I have a hell of a smell, for the misery, and the pain, I threw myself into rehabilitation with nothing to lose and  nothing to gain. I held pictures of my grandma to keep from going completely insane, shot caller in a mental institution sporting a benzodiazepine gleam from a whole different lane, I conquered my demons but I made it look plain.


That place erased all restrictions and moral, Desensitized to the violence but I can’t write raps about slinging Cristal , I can only embrace my Grandparents as my two best pals, the hate almost derailed my voyage home and I fucked up the tall roadblocks to the height of a gnome. I think about days sitting in room with blood dripping, I was crying all alone. If you had my genetics or looked through my eyes, why would you worry about dying when you roll the dice, Grandson of a Queen so why would I never not rise, blessed to be able to observe the stars, I can upgrade my home and crash a fast car. Through all my success my Gran will never go too far from my heart, sprinkle cigarette ashes on the daily depart




And with all this debauchery, some of us chose to go on and on about pubescent philosophy


And this is the plight of the living dead, verbatim is a death sentence so never quote what I said, now I’m reminiscing about the days when I didn’t have two thousand fans and the potential to publish a revolution right at my hands. Gil Scott Heron would be proud, passed down the asterisk and the slant, Black Panthers are gone but now I’m the man


Kool G Rap was on the edge of sanity, and now I sit back judging this calamity, the town is overflowing with drugs and prostitution to bring the grit to reality, calling out losers is just a formality, to win is like spewing debonair profanity and I’m crushing a hyped house of shit and I’m not talking about Amity, disturbing the peace to the metal of the wood and drawers that are shitty, I was bred in the underbelly of a ugly city, I’ve got the lock on the these other skinny cats, can’t touch me or the way I’m shitting facts


So fuck copyright, Fuck Rights and Motherfuck the peace, I’m the man behind the book taking a stance. My message contradicts my sickness, decided the winner early to add some speed and art to my hit list, who rhymes like this spitting in tongues with such quickness, I’ll bomb the world with mediocre physical fitness, I got this world on Lockdown and I see the horizon with my grandma as my witness. There were three sides to the story so when I finished my 180 degree spin, I contemplated solving the triangular equation before I’d begin, It is my pain that suggests suicide before  I win. I always worked to keep my mind, but god decided to not include me in the general population of mankind.


I got my butter from Calcutta without a pot to piss, can’t see me in a decade with a shiny gold wrist then I’ll help you see the future with an optometrist. Spat lines of ill shit with a major lisp, economist had me in the front sea while I sat back with a morphine drip, then I flipped and moderately constricted the script, I wrote this little book and promised my grandma I’d never ever slip, having my family in my heart with keep me from injury during my ego trip.


Maniacal motherfucker for goodness sake, I don’t wake and bake, and I hate and fake, like I don’t wake and pop, even with the world spinning around me I’ll never stop.




You can’t put a number next to my name, take a life from my surplus because I live life like a game, KKK stopped us in our car and I swear we never changed lanes, my grandma passed down BDI, Black Determined and Insane, I’m an abomination and a lion so ill slap you even if you think it’ll be easy for me to be tamed. Motherfuckers live in fairytales, but painkillers are my Aladdin, and I’m a variation you wish you’d never see, I’m not the warm hearted boy I was raised to beImage

Survivor Art

You Made my life a crystal ball of confusion

I painted a portrait of an illusion, a raw throbbing contusion

Im a melodic disaster

This is my conclusion…

We Sing Along, but the notes are wrong, we sang along from night till dawn

These Drums, they make me so strong, it took so long to get this level to prove the world wrong

These Screams, ugly but pretty, id love to see mars but lets go see the city

In my incipience, they i implied i was rather fastidious

Describing a world so hideous, to a community near The HALL that seemed so oblivious

I had the propensity, to show serendipity, ugly in the light

Like the sound of a fight on a cold winter night, each analogical plight blasts out of sight

I showed pain that i had found a way to make things right, just keep singing along all through this winter night

The strings can be weak, but dont worry love that we can tweak

If its true love you seek, then we can climb this peak

Then it goes silent, the stillness of anticipation has a quality thats ultraviolent

We do this…to make peace with ourselves

Some of us have our own meaning of art, some strive to display that an end always has a start

So tonight, its our feet we tap, we are the generation of survivor art that makes beauty from crap

They say hate breeds hate, tonight the only sound is the symphony of finger snaps

We all sing out of tune, our spirits ascend all but to soon

This is the last line…we sit on young love’s lagoon, staring as the stars whisper to the moon



It’s to disregard all the nonsense because I realized I’m actually on this

Not on one, on two or way more than a few

Cooking up concoctions like stew and I’d blow you away right out of the blue

Don’t believe in yourself when I’m around

Don’t make a sound because I’m enjoying the silence

Depeche Mode getting violent and ripping apart the streets looking for consignment

Ripping apart my heart, staying non existent and insane because I can’t mind it




Images of a broken home splattered in my memory

Thoughts of changing myself plague my entity

Tired, with no more energy

Fed up with no shoulder to cry on

My self-worth desecrated like the love of those who have gone

Left me abandoned, can’t even speak to tell you what I’m planning

Can’t make out the words, can’t understand the future

Feeling blue, still fucking thinking about you

Damn you worthless woman stuck in my head

Damn your beautiful, please just wish me dead