Face Crack

The first time we ever got a chance to be alone we knew,
That it was wrong to do,
I guess that's why I was drawn to you,
The 2nd time leads to the 3rd, the 5th, the 7th time,
I feel so alive, it won't last but it's alright,
Fleeting joy and fading ecstasy, here it goes again, oh,
Sneaking fruit from the forbidden tree, sweet taste of sin,

And I'm doing it again;
Yes, I'm doing it again,
Oh, I'm doing it again,
I said it would end but here it goes again.




~John Legend.


#FaceCrackMusic

Mr Dismissed: For the Queen that Requested It (thank U)

Mr. Dismissed.

My friend says he loves me

But he don’t

Says he misses me

But he doesn’t

Says he was trying

But

He wasn’t

He lying

He loves me like grim reaper shadows for the dying

He loves me like Snoop Dog and hoes

And then like Ludacris and area codes

And then again like snakes and toads until I’m frozen into a glacier of confusion

Don’t know how to take him

Or what to make of him

Or what to say to him when his fingertips so graciously leaves prints on the i-m-i-s-s-y-o-u keys

Boy please

Your love  for me is the equivalent of a winter frost

And a summer rose…our fate is like a refundable security deposit minus the dirty carpet

..and the walls that need new paint

And the broken dishwasher

And the stained steel on the kitchen sink

Whats left isn’t worth cashing in

You bouncing love checks boo

Loving me like broken necks that heal inside of caskets

Buried, dirt covered and head s toned…

We might be grown but our friendship was still in the developmental stages…we should have soared with sky limits

But he stunted our growth with 12 guages of bullshit covered up with scented oil “I wish you were here” text messages…

Cant understand why I don’t enjoy being a recipient of his mentally challenged and dysfunctional way of saying I’m Sorry…

He speaks in foreign languages when he’s not making jokes, although it’s not until he has a serious moment that I feel compelled to laugh

Like when he says he misses me

And I wish we didn’t turn into this

Cause this is it

Cue Michael Jackson, this nigga is moonwalking across my back with sandpaper penny loafers but –

-at least he’s smiling

Sleeping with the enemy but –

-at least he’s getting laid

And I like to see my people

Especially the ones that love me

And miss me

Like he

My friend

Who claims to love me and careful consideration, I believe he may, but our idea of what it takes to make a friendship build

Or collapse and break don’t align and that’s fine by me

But I for one no longer wanna be down in fraggle rock, bouncing off walls with him…

Running Olympic tracks until I’m too dizzy to see straight

Or to see how crooked he is..

We devolved from a circle to a dangling line

Which is why he’s so  good at lying

And I’m letting go of my grip

Suicide feels better than this merry go round of addict behavior

I’m quacking cold turkey

He loves me like…..like I love beef jerky

And I hate beef jerky

It stinks

When I find it between my teeth, I spit it out !!!

It has too many unchewables

Just like his paint splotched, spackle crusted love

And he swears he misses me

But his emotions are MISplaced

And MISarticulated

Our closeness was a bit of a MIStake

We are MIScellaneously, MIScarried like MISfired sperm

Instead of missing me

He should have been trying to miss the spot

Now X marks his forehead and I fully expect him to exhibit extreme behavior for my acceptance but –

I never really did learn to walk backwards

Or forward blindfolded

Eventually you’ll fall

And when you do

You take your shades off

The roses on my glasses wilted months ago

He says I’m his friend and he’s right

I’m HIS friend

But that doesn’t instantly make him mine

And he says he was trying but I think he’s lying

At the expense of my feelings

Looks like there’s a ceiling up there after all

My friend says he loves me

And misses me

And part of me believes it

But he only misses silent Susie

The quiet mouse who doubts herself just enough to stay silent when stuff stops adding up but shit stinks no matter who’s ass it comes from

And I might be soft but I aint a roll of Charmin

So his charming smile woo’s me only enough to show him the common respect I’d offer a stranger

Somebody better throw him a life saver

Cause he’s poked a lot of holes in that waterbed he made

And now he’s in danger

Of drowning. 

#Copyrighted 2010

Caskets

I've missed you so much, I can feel the hollowness within my heart. Sounds all poetic and writer-ish but its not....its the truth. I just sat, staring a box of CocaCola's for the last ten minutes

...or what seemed like 30 mins....

thinking of you and feeling this ......this.....
missing part ....

I gave you, me......and you didn't want her.
And the rejection is hurtful but ......the long way to it is what has stifled me.  I don't want no one to see me the way I am ...I don't want to explain all the other things on my mind, including you dancing on my pain. To see you, posting and lol'ing, commenting and tagging......

.....and not for the slightest second, thinking of me, is killing me. Its not you tho.  Its all me. I killed myself loving you.


So excuse me while I lay in this casket, resting rather unpeacefully.
I'll be back when the resurrection says I may return. Right now, i'm emotionally dead. Of all the hurt and all the things going on, all I want is to curl up next to you and feel you breathe.....ironically, you don't even care if i'm breathing at all.




Caskets n shit.

Loving you was the day I killed myself so excuse this casket crawl as I roll over and change post mortem positions.
... my resurrection will release you in ways you never knew I was holding you.

Brown vs Bored of Edu.: A Review by jY

 

The following is a review on the recent chapbook release “Brown vs. Bored of Education”, by Christopher K.P. Brown of Philadelphia, PA. It is a collection of 16 poems written over the last two years and mostly, if not all, personal in some way. Chapter one or ‘8:15am (Beginning of the school day)’ opens up with “Saturday, July 13 (or Jean Grae 1 of 4)”; a brief Inception-style piece that tells two stories in one.

“I wanted

to hear your voice that night….

Wanted

to call you

And care about you

And not be a Black man on that night”

Page one goes on to be a short glimpse of a hopeful love with the potential to serve as a safe place. But upon turning the page Brown reveals that which he seeks love’s shelter from:

“wanted to not discuss the trial

Wanted to not discuss color

Or race in America

The 911 tape…”

The page fills with a broken sense of pride in humanity as the Trayvon Martin verdict becomes the second muse. The two subjects intertwine only briefly on the same pages, each holding their own melancholy separately. Still the combining contrasts tell a tale of love and anger, rage and need, fear and separation. The structure of the piece personifies its movement as it starts the reader on the right side of the page with safety net Jean Grae and ends on the left with the heartbreak of the trial outcome. We’re off to a great first period! The rest of this chapter plays host to several matters and concerns of African American men, of which Brown uses personal accounts and recollections to drive home his poetic points. From the catalysts that lead to incarceration to the often silenced topic of suicide and African Americans men, Christopher does a great job of stretching his pen wings. He fine tunes the art of recreation of situations, emotions and stories. One of my particular favorites, “Death vs Destiny”, reminds me of a Jay-Z line from the song “Murder of Excellence” of which he says,

“...and they say by 21 I supposed to die

So I’m out here celebrating my post demise”

In Brown’s poem, he explores the idea of not expecting to live beyond the age of 21 and as a result, not being prepared for life ala ‘post demise’. The subject alone is mentally engaging but the story he tells of outliving his expected fate presents the type of emotional vulnerability that I would like to see more black male writers embrace. It begs the question of what are we preparing our sons for? Life, or death at a young age? Christopher gives examples of artists, leaders and even close friends/peers who all meet an early demise to help drive home the point of how this mentality develops. “….this feels like overtime. Out here scuffling cause I was caught off guard by my true destiny. Feeling like somebody lied” Overall, this chapter does a great job of opening the door to dialogue about the truths African American men mentally face on any given day.

11:45AM (Lunch Period & Recess)

Brown dives head first into deeper emotional waters in this section. It begins with a poem called “Underground King Freestyle”, which flows through two pages like a hip hop song. It wouldn’t be strange to hear a beat and bob your head while silently reading to yourself. I imagine if this piece was performed, one could close their eyes and listen to the passion bounce from each line spoken. Moving thru the rest of the ‘Lunch & Recess’ section, with exception of a heartfelt poem about his 92 year old grandmother, the remaining poems round out the Jean Grae series. There are four pieces in total, the first having started off the book (Sat. July 13^th) This chapter plays home to the final three; two short one page poems and the final two paged piece. This series is amazing. It pulls from the love story that initially started on the right side of the first page in the book. You get a sense of a violent love, but not physically. It’s an emotional violence. A relationship rose war; a notion to continue but a need to stop. His imagery in Poem #2 (We Love It Here) is vivid enough for you to see this couple writing and holding pens together in the rain. In poem #3 (Crashing), you feel the sting of more than a rough patch hit. Finally there is, #4 “Beautiful Chaos”, which is part summary, part reflective. It is exactly what its called: Beautiful Chaos. Poem #4 begs the reader to ask themselves the very questions Chris is asking Jean Grae.

“If your beauty ever tried to pimp slap your ugliness

Would you let it?

Or would you stop it

Say this is how things are supposed to be

Would you ever make an exchange

Trade your chaos in for peace…”

This poem and especially this entire last stanza, spoke so loud to me that it felt as though Brown rose from between the black print and the white page and dared me to make myself Jean Grae for the moment. Not HIS Jean Grae, but the Jean Grae within me. This short love series holds mystery, heartache, truth and that long, ill walk thru acceptance’s palace that we’ve all experienced by age 30. This final installment of Jean Grae (1-4) and subsequently the last poem of 11:15AM, is a poetic dare. I dare you to read it and ask yourself, “is completely beautiful something you’re brave enough to be?”

12:30 (Second Half of School Day)

“Lineage”, is the introductory poem into the final chapter of Brown vs. The Bored of Education. The poem itself is an absolute dedication to those who have mile marked both the literary and performance roads for rest of us spoken word artists/poets/writers. Names such as Chuck D. and Sean Carter, Saul Williams and Gwendolyn Brooks as well as Goodie Mob, Phyliss Wheatley and Countee Cullen are immortalized in a semi-circular structured poem that reads like old Harlem.

“this is that

Dialect

Intellect

Intersect

Shun

Between Chuck D.

And Nikki G.

Baraka

And Bambaataa

Sanchez

And Sean Carter

Poetry be the mother

Hip hop be the father

Spoken word, the child

And we be the authors.”

The remainder of the chapter seems motivated by the internal war writers and artists sometimes find themselves in battle with, as evidenced in the poem “Poet vs SELF. It’s a war that doesn’t start or end solely on the stage; rather it begins at conception and resonates throughout our entire lives. There are several final perspectives explored, including the notion of womanhood and respect as found in heartbreaking Sweetest Taboo (pt 2.).

“her self worth

And her sexuality never speak to each other”

In the poem “Strange Game”, Brown highlights the recurring problem of poets being almost expected to work for free. Having done my own share of performing, this piece hit home. In it he states:

“…we get on stage night in, night out

Saving the world for free

Often “paying” at the door

Just so we can get up here to entertain

I mean, imagine if a stripper brought her own ones to the stage

And when that music comes on

She was the one busy making it rain…”

I think any poet who reads this will appreciate it being highlighted as a problem. The final poem of the book is “Higher Power”. It is his final naked walk across the pages of truth. As with EVERY poem before, it exposes Chris. He puts his weaknesses on in the same block of words as his strengths, while praising God and admitting that he needs to do better.

“tryna eat healthier

Procrastinate less

Drink more water

Live longer so my grandchildren have a real life example

Of what it means to live in tune with God

Morally conscious

Spiritually conscious in a world where they say

A higher power don’t matter no more”

Brown vs. The Bored of Education is a solid literary effort from Christopher Brown. I directly connected to about 90% of it. We share a lot of the same thoughts and questions regarding art and life, so relating with his work seemed easy. The chosen poems do a great job at character sketching the mind of Brown. In his final entry, an essay entitled “Brown vs Bored of Education”, he candidly speaks about his history with writing, poetry and music, all of which correlate to the poems shared in the book. He also speaks on what he believes to be his responsibilities to the poetry community as well as the responsibilities of his peers. I really enjoyed this material and have no doubts that I will read it again, as I already have read several poems quite a few times. I think the courts rule in favor of Brown.

~jY

***To find out more about Christopher K.P. Brown and to purchase your copy of his book “Brown vs. Bored of Education” visit:

TwoPensAndLint.com

Facebook.com/ChristopherKP

Arms Wide Open, Words Wide Shut.

I don’t know what to say….

Or what I want to say yet……idk how to pinpoint what exactly I feel, but I know I am feeling A LOT of different things.  I know I have posted a lot of stats regarding the ending of Different Peace of Mind but ….whatever is on my heart

To actually say

Has not made it into word form yet

All I can think to do is quote a song….for when words fail she who only knows words, that’s when I turn to music.  Because it never fails me.So for now, until i find the words, please take these words.....from one of my favorite songs ever. 

i SINCERELY with all of me, 
all that i am
and every part of my soul, being and existence,

am beyond grateful for this last 16 months.  I love you.  

~Kendria

Flight of No F*cks

<  Ex Factor 3

You
...have given me the token of WORTHLESS for the last time
no more staying on this ship

Fucking around with this shit

I’m jumping

I’d much rather off myself than to let you continue to douse me with hypothermia

Nigga fuck yo’ match

My keys were just snatched,

Up

By me,

No life jacket necessary,

No defibrillator,

No rounds of Eppi for the heart you have evacuated the blood supply from,

You fema !!

No more roof waving,

Signs that state I am in need of saving,

No more avoiding the swirl of going down the drain,

Pummeling around the rabbit hole,

Fumbling for my loss of control,

Forgetting how to resurface

[No more] oxygen depletion

Water in lungs

Hanging onto your words until I become a swinging pendulum of lifelessness

No more of this

SHIT!!!

Runny and lactose intolerant

1.5%  skim,

Egg beater,

Vegan style meat eating,

Dumpster diving,

Turtle neck jiving,

Snake biting,

High priced generic,

Consignment store smelling like a clearance rack take back

Under arm sweating,

great balls of fire,

Blue torn sueded shoes

Misused, stale brewed up green tea

Universal lackluster soldier shooting hollowtip pointed love from you to me

Yeah I’m [fuckin] done here,
no more value village,
binge goodwill shopping,
salvation army free shipping,
back alley handling,

-or mishandling

five dollar dvd bin, no movies i want in this muthaf*cka
half off dollar tree,

section wait ----
foldable food stamps? !!!
great value,
boxed up,

laboratory,
hamburger helper tasting,
time wasting,
bullshit chasing,
ridiculous,
unrequited,
complete fallacy of the truth,
Ex-Factor,
no tax,
no retractor

Charitable donation, write off
type
of love....
From you.

I will be damned if this is an “I Do” vow of silence

Sitting back while you pillage

Thru my emotions

No sifting

And all the lumps are coming thru

can’t get the stink out of the shit

manure might grow flowers but have you ever notice its only from animals ?

no more human waste from you….

No more packages of you that lack warning labels….

Yuck faces and barf bags in my purse….

No more cane carrying,

Enabling,

Shotgun blasts to the back,

Plastic sack with a hole in the bottom,

Trash falling out,

Stalling,

Foot dragging in the sand,

Sand castles blowing down,

Down hill,

Need to be healed from,

You

Type of hurtful mistreatment ….

worthless love tokens of faux affection and pushed erections that increase my blinding dopamine injections

Nigga

FUCK YOU !!

FUCK YOU !!!

FUCK YOU !!!!!!!

(and fuck the part of you that would even dare )

……and with that said,

I will always love you….

Take care.

Top of Form

no mono

Bottom of Form

Marathon’ing

We can’t keep running towards each other
Then turning away

If you want me here

I want to stay

If you want me to leave

I shall quickly remove myself;

As in, go away

But we can’t keep running towards each other

During the day

Stepping back

Under the night

Then staring into puzzled eyes

Questioning why shit aint right

The sight we have gives us insight to keep moving

But we either gonna dance-

As in, start grooving

To the eardrum melody of the sound of my cheek against yours

Or we will close

This muthafucking door

Once and for all.

I’m still amazingly down for the free fall.

As in,

No stall.

But we can’t keep running towards each other

If all we gonna do is  turn away.

Save the bullshit for other people

Other days

But between the two of us,

Either way go in opposite directions and breathe easy.

Or we fox trot on this cloud

As in,

We stay.  

 

 U had me at hello.