The Statement

We are the products of an conglomerate that fight and bicker, success is an percentage that we’re left to go figure. I did thousands of curls over the years to feel bigger, while i have disease and animosity flowing through my liver. Im dying, i want to die quicker but i cant because my future assures top shelf liquor

I found diamonds and colors to decorate these lies, nobody is listening so why should I cry. This world is bleak, ive grown tired of it but it wont let me sleep. He’s got bullets in his stomach to save and keep, while his lover whines with her small sheep. This poem is the product of a hateful boy’s sigh, a mere proclamation before the genocide, I wanted to die but god is going to make suffer through years of suicide. I swerve on and off a straight line, as the morals i once held so high, decline. They say at least you tried, as i sprinkled my carelessness with diamonds from aparthied. This the statement, do or die.

People can smoke weed and plant their seed, im intoxicated on the roadkill that they leave. Have a romantic dinner with a stipulation, or stay tipsy with low confidence on the festive nights of New Years Eve. I tried to rearrange the stars, life was sweet because i relied on candy bars, starstruck by flashy cars, aspirations to be a writer were polluted by a dream to big, that there would be a time where i could be a kid. This is a blase production, hey my name is Anthony! This is my introduction. I threw my life into a dirty hole that went on forever, grueling like a glimpse of my endeavor, arteries of actuality severed. The offspring of an eclipse, im a little bitch, uploading a picture on facebook as i shake my hips. Im not Gladys, im still the pips. This is the way it goes down, after i spit in their face there is a piano solo, followed by a clown. Ill probably be killed but you wont her a sound, because ive been praying for plagues througout the night in a black gown. The sweaty palms revealed my anxious qualms, but like any preaching zealot i read the passage like it was the Nagasaki bomb. Place my insecurities into a line from psalms, god screwed me so hard i adjusted my lip balm. But remain calm, reality is the underwear of the underling crawling beneath my wing, ive only got one more paragraph of blasphemy to sing.

I painted a thesis, co-wrote the same symphony, but this time i let my dark half take the wheel to avoid the road or a epiphany. I’d prefer a crash, then the poetic lash of a slavemasters slash. Id like to get happy memories but all i have is cash. 45 magnum pencil, im hardcore, they reposessed my life but i promise im not poor. We fled the scene I had created, the doctor gave me pills that left my mercy sedated, so we will find your god and make sure your expiration date isnt outdated, we wouldnt you to be relocated. HoneyBunny, i love you so, you will always be in my heart, transcending friend or foe. But yo, ive got no melody like All Time Low, been brought down to Deaths Valley by an Average Joe, dont tell the Board of Education, but im fastidious not slow, my ego altered by a corporations low blow. Ive guess ive got Glory to sew…



My ascension will provoke anxiety but I have a shrink, chaos in the horizon but I refuse to blink, refuse to think, how I came alive after each disaster, I stay safe because my dreams preach just like a pastor

They insisted on calling me MC Socrates, for the rawest flow of the philosophy, drip dropping these and spitting so harshly that the atmosphere is due for apologies. Ophthalmology, my rhymes are college bound destined to major in astrology

I say, kill the noise I’m trying to read, about these information age gladiators conversing with me, as if I would seize the opportunity, as they mistaken the nights silence for some sort of hypocrisy, but politics had no play, no diplomatic immunity today

Just News to say, bypass the outlets and fools, fill up on vegetables especially the peas, mastered any pattern that’s in between A and Z, god locked me in my chamber but I had already stolen the key. This battle is Jr. King vs. Mini Me, do you think happiness is the antonym to my strife, I’ll die for what I believe then live a fake life

Should I climax to create the calamity, or the let everyone else balance modern laws in this world’s insanity. They set a spotlight to our flaws

They wouldn’t stop at our information so they broke our jaws

Without speech there is the greatest language, strongest cause is created out of anguish

Rhyming patterns are the infrastructure in bulk

The Rebel, through devastating storms I base my life upon with the portraits and statues I sculpt

With desperation, I wonder if I missed daylight and the birds had sung

The taste of fear, on my tongue

So I left for the area where the sky was blue, deceived them enough to believe I was from the Metro area of Timbuktu

My holy grail was a picture of something inappropriate I drew

People acted like I spoke in tongues, they feared my scars, frowned as I put smoke in my lungs

I felt like I wanted to declare war on the young

Wondering if this is why the politicians need so many guns! Pleaded with a plot, I observed my life all day

I had epic conservations with big words, because I had nothing to say

The music was the same old melody and even that wouldn’t play

How can I live defeated by my own constitution, I blamed my problems on the new pollution

I wanted to grow wings, and be part of a spiritual revolution

I hate people who wear their sun glasses because they think they are so bright

Never understand censoring the violence when every day I live it

I acted tough, tried to try, each day was another reason to die

Still judged as an outcast of my family, my mind was no longer parallel to my sanity

I entertained therapists with my calamity

Spat volatile and unnecessary amounts of profanity

Depression tried to kill me, not with one assassin, but the whole fleet

When I lost, it wasn’t the defeat but the purpose; I had an army and all of its analogies at my feet

I never paused, I’d never retreat

How should I end this, put my life on repeat?

Fast forward the nonsense, and find something to keep


Trauma and Poetry

I always questioned the authenticity of the world’s philosophy, my poetics earned praise for the way I kept spitting these, so will this be my 21st century Iliad or carefully constructed animosity?

I’m dying to live, living until I die, so you wont take my life without a fight

I used to mar myself, it was lighter at night then during the day, people always asked how I was, I remained clueless as to what to say

I passed the pens, twisted reality into fantasy, got on my good foot to grab my keys

Started the ignition, I’ll keep pushing the limit until I get recognition. My flag was burnt, and as the world turned I leaned to the side, conventional art had an apparent suicide

I want to rise with my lucid glide, and smile before flexing resilience to a violent tide

Together, I’ll fly to the gray sky, but I’m to young to just…fly away

I’ll find the place where the past takes its star making role in history, forget about the trauma and its painful melody

I’m going to listen to what my heart says to me, to believe in every accomplishment, and discontinue the chapter in my psychological biography about everything in the world I hate

Keep the pace, and personify the significance of a perfect stance, kill them with kindness, so I threw my enemies a ice cream cone, extra sweet

This is when my potential and my pride meet, I realized I cant escape life so its time to evolve, so how do you like me now?

Positive over negative, I flipped the script, wrote my story backwards, non-descript words, fly through the air with fluidity like blue birds

One day I can forgive my dad for what he did to me, for now I decipher the pain, trauma and wounds into poetry, so I can show this world what it all means to me.

It’s the best therapy, and I whisper each line with crystal crisp clarity, so maybe there will be days I can go to sleep without fear in me, I’ll donate my story to charity