Old School

I write poetry. Well nowhere near as often as I used to. But still, I write poetry. One of the things I feel Im good at. So anyway, I was just going through my archive of old poems and went through the unfiled section. Cuz I have finished work, then unfiled... But anyway, Im not goin to post the entire thing because it has 8 parts lol. The funny shit is, this is "Truth Is... Pt.2". So there was a 1st lol. I got work for days... Damn shame. My best work is fueled by emotions and truth. And once I get going, I tend to just keep going. I wrote this back in like '06 lol, I remember this shit cuz it was around the time my pops had his stroke and I was going through a lot. I know why this one was in the "unfiled" section, because I sorta just tapped out half way through the 8th part... Anyway, Im only going to post 2 and 3. I think I may have posted them before, but Im not sure anymore. Well, do what you will.

"Truth Is... Pt.2"
Act 2 : Try to keep my composure as I squabble with this poser/Starin at a poster I try to reach some closure/A man calling himself my father, but he's a coward/Like a virgin deflowered our relationship has scoured/Watered down then grew sour, with every passing hour/I lose more power... Power to restrain myself/What makes it harder is I dont blame myself/Try to regain myself/As I abstain from help/And the pain Ive felt/The stroke came about and my tears came out/Supposed to be strong and the bitch rang out/Doc said he needed surgery certainly and my emotions started jerkin me/Gave two options in case of emergency, option 1 was a certainty/Tried to hold fast despite our cold past/Choose not to quarrel unless Im told trash/But lately all he says is bull, and I want to just pull...Away from the things he will say to urk my nerves today/Words to sway of off wordplay, if you observe his taunt/For a non-athletic diabetic, the nerve he'll flaunt/Truth is... If he wasnt my father, Id kick his ass/Learn him a thing or two, very quick to class/Cuz he's too sick with sass/And Ill put a brick through his glass/Causing me to move, cant live here anymore/ Fuck tears further more/He puts a rumble in my belly, when normally Im humble and steady/All love aside, I cant stand this cynical judge/Im done with him, Ive reached the pinnacle of this grudge/...

Act 3 : Life is running in place, Im stuck in purgatory/Sometimes I feel there isnt a chance of purge for me/Trapped in a mellow ghetto, but Im on the verge homey/Of a surge homey, so please when I emerge hold me/Console me, tell me these nights arent cold, B/Just lie to my face, as I shutter from your embrace/Sigh like amazing grace, as I mutter to the base/Theres a stutter when I utter as I attempt to gain space/Again in the same place, where I went insane, Ace/Left in a slump on a road with more then a bump/But its next to a cliff, and I wonder to jump/It pains to be humble when to survive you gotta struggle/I try not to stumble while with good and evil I juggle/Just pieces to the puzzle, thats why I cant guzzle/Greed is death, so it makes it hard to nuzzle/Especially when Im in the hustle and hear "dont move a muscle"/So now Ive gotta bustle just to avoid a tussle/Pace is to fast at a 100 miles and running/Happiness comes with fake smiles and shunning/Sunshine peaks through the cracks of my unstained mind/Far from perfection, though the tracks are a mundane find/

Its crazy, cuz I wrote that in '06 and still can relate to some of that. Most of it actually. Damn, I dont know if thats good or bad. Geez louise...

Here is a quote from the movie, "Heat" starring Al Pacino and Robert Deniro...
"Don't let yourself get attached to anything you are not willing to walk out on in 30 seconds flat if you feel the heat around the corner." Just more true shit... blahhhhhhhhhhh went the lion