| A Letter to Myself
 Dear Self, I don’t remember exactly how it startedWhere you are going or where it began
 You often ask me if it’ll be worth it in the end
 And I reply, hold on to faith at least until then
 I have become your unwritten journalThe sanctuary for your most hidden thoughts
 You, you’ve become my most precious jewel
 Coal that only gets more valuable under heat and pressure
 A diamond not roughed up enough
 Your path has been mapped out for youYou have seen it in your dreams,
 But I can not walk it for you
 No one else can travel your road of success
 Your journey is trademarked
 You are worth more than goldMore valuable than your perception allows you to hold
 Let it be what it will be, let the rest go
 Your fate is no longer in your control
 One day you will reach your target of becoming a man
 Until then, move at God’s spee...
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       | Life Bag of Sorrows
 My last words to my forgotten man hood: The blade's tip fore-played pleasure,pressure waved salutations to pain,
 and my skin proved permeable
 as my cells were intruded by guilt.
 All I have left
 is a half ripped food lion bag
 filled with sorrows.
 Your apologies held less weight
 than the feathers you flock with,
 and so I quickly adopted two moral principles:
 first;
 I'm sorry is not an apology,
 but rather an excuse to maliciously resume
 beating my feelings worse than Rodney King's
 battered chicken for flesh
 second;
 life's short...life's too short for some
 so now I don't hold grudges
 I hold liquor until my liver's content,
 and blackouts elicit greater pleasure
 than foursome orgasms to a nymph.
 It's like
 my whole life you've been fumbling
 in your con-artist get-away bag of lies
 searching for the right sized dag...
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       | Malik
 Here lies your road mapYour GPS to being a man
 1.	Always be a leader.  Responsibility is sometimes stressful but more rewarding to lead to victory than follow the blind into a losing battle.2.	Define your morals early and stand by them.  Stand for something or fall for anything.  I think that’s how the saying goes.
 3.	Understand you are a diamond and so you must expect pressure.  True diamonds never break under pressure they just shine.
 4.	There is no right.  There is no wrong.  There is only the truth.  I learned early from a great man, the highest truth is being true to you.  No one likes copies, stay original.
 5.	While some women react purely emotional, remember that if you are doing right continue no matter what anyone tells you.  Not even me.
 6.	Every woman has the potential to be a queen. I stress this because as young men we often forget it takes a woman to carry a child, it takes a mother to raise one.
 7.	Y...
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       | Chi-Raq
 In my home town…In Chicago…
 In Chi-raq we witnessed more deaths last year
 than Iraq during war with the U.S.
 My home base is a battle groundA war zone with no middle ground
 We fill trenches with empty bodies
 Play chicken with shallow graves
 I’m from the cityWhere even shooters with the prettiest of aims
 Realize bullets have no names
 So on any given day,
 A corner you pick
 Could force you to become a statistic
 In my homeWe play chicken with shallow graves
 Raise our youth to be slaughtered cattle
 Teach them at a young age to be mindless sheep
 The blind leading the blind
 And it’s been so many years of the same last names on obituaries
 That fam doesn’t always get to say ily (I love you)
 Before loved ones lose at chicken,
 And bullets leave powdered stares in innocent chests
 This is a ple... | 
    
       | Creatures of Habit
 History will repeat itselfShe will come back
 They always do
 What goes around comes around
 So it only makes since
 That we rebound like boomerangs
 In a circle called life.
 Endorphins burst outWe’re addicted to the pain
 Or the need to heal
 Warned about the dangers
 Still proceeding to burn
 Attracted to the pain of the flame
 Like moths scorching in fiery desire
 Of repetitious hesitations
 Karma suggestsWhat goes around comes back around
 She will need to come back around
 They always return
 Predictable, vulnerable creatures
 Falling into the pot holes of habit
 A street car named desire
 On a road with no purpose
 Decorated by dead end signs
 What do they drive back to?
 Barren lands and dented lanes of misery
 Practice doesn’t always make perfect
 Especially if you practice the wrong things...
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       | Pretend
 that the same way we discovered lovecould bring amnesia to our conception of hate again?
 Can we pretend,
 for a moment only once race exist;
 the human race, and we are only separated  in the mind
 by how much sun radiation touches pigment in skin?
 Sometimes I don’t like the painting of my own skin!
 Can we pretend,
 that everyday causes unity
 the terror of 9-11 all over again?
 
 Most of today's conflictions
 are our own human inflictions.
 A society overdosed on paranoiac prescriptions,
 we're living in a world on contradictions.
 Aliens to the intellect dormant in our own minds,
 sun absorbing zombies defined by our wasted time.
 
 Seasons lost, ancestors buried.
 Prisoners to history's repeat, ants hurried.
 Microscopic fire-flying firefighters burning to take off,
 small pieces to a bigger puzzle of peace
 we are all God's fragments ...
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       | Venting Part I
 Blood splattered on her handAs she waited for his money
 Counting just enough change
 To warm himself up for the morning
 A coffee
 Revolted from the thought of whatever sickness he had
 She ran to the back of the store
 “Ugh, I’m not taking his moneyâ€
 Attempting to sustain professionalismI walked up to the gentleman and finished the transaction
 He coughed
 I couldn’t help but notice the red droplets of shame resting on his fist
 His eyes said thank you for recognizing I’m still human
 As the group assembled outside he followed
 With a smile he started conversation
 Only pausing here and there to cough
 He told his story
 How his family abandoned his existenceHow the woods had become his home, his resting grounds
 How he walked the streets for an escape from his outdoor prison, ironic
 How he learned to appreciate livin...
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       | It's Not Rape
 Her voice crackedThe podium stood still.
 “It’s not rape if you get paid for itâ€
 This was her opening line
 That demanded the attention of so many eyes
 She continued.
 “I wrote this poem to say I forgive youâ€
 “It’s not rape if you get paid for itâ€Words shouted into my soul after every incident
 It started with your boyfriend
 He told me he wanted me to know what love was
 I begged him not to love me
 He stroked his manhood into my innocence
 Until I came out of my innocent nut
 My bed sheets stained by a punctured cherry
 You washed the guilt away for some pay
 I pleaded for you to love me“You said it isn’t rape if you get high from itâ€
 The only time you told me I was beautiful
 Was after the powder blurred your vision
 The local dope dealer
 Dealt you an ultimatum you couldn...
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       | Venting Part II
 We stood outside to smokeSomewhere between too late at night
 And too early in the morning
 We assembled like robots
 Inhaling puffs of therapy
 In the midst of systematic conversation
 We took turns
 Bouncing our problems off each others minds
 Each waiting for his or her turn to let loose
 All we needed was to vent.
 After too many precious moments had been wastedOn trials and tribulations that in the large scale of things
 Should never even matter,
 A man who had been standing there unnoticed finally spoke
 “At least you’re breathingâ€
 This man, a statue of humility
 He spoke with the authority of Mufasa
 We sat as young cubs and listened
 “Today’s my 50th birthdayTo celebrate I think I’ll walk the town a little
 Before going back to my woodsâ€
 He coughed up blood into his fist
 Before taking...
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       | The Lost Angel
  A soul misdirectedNeeding to be intercepted by protection
 I need your cold truth,
 A touch of winter God
 I’m trying to be your winner God
 But in my heart’s center
 I’m a sinner God
 Praying for your righteousness to bring me closer to my center, God
 Help meFind my way into your complete image
 No cliff notes, I need no abridged versions
 Your completeness is perfection in your every word
 It’s been years since I’ve sat in one of your pewsWhen you call upon me will you spew me?
 Check my name into your book of permanence or act as if you never knew me
 Truly,
 I am honored that you ever used me
 You are the greatest chess player, and I am privileged you saw this pawn
 Deciding I was important enough in your strategy and moved me
 And just when I though you had let loose of me, loosing me
 You defended me twice...
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