Flow

How do I start?
I want to impart
what's in my heart
using this art.

It's not new
but I bet you
didn't know I could flow.

But long ago
that's where I started
while my words were still retarded
by fresh eyes
that just began to see lies
and understand pain.
I first turned to verse
to nurse the fresh wounds of the curse,
of my generation
the first to feel the denegration,
separation,
denunciation
of the structures that promised to hold us
mold us
enfold us,
but instead began to drain...
me.

You see...
I'm twisted
and most of you missed it
because I hide it deep inside
buried alive.
That's why I gave it up.
Poetic words, rhythmic sounds abound with too much emotion.
If words are an ocean, then this is the wave
rollin at such a speed
it'll touch where I bleed
too fast and I'll stumble.
But no crutch for me.
That's like a cane
and a cane is one step from the grave.
So I bottled the rain...
deeper inside
me.

But today it came back.
I don't know why.
Out of the black
deep inside.
Rising up unbidden
flowin and goin and showin me things I had hidden.

And most of all
I long for a place to be raw
something real
sharp as steel
to cut these bonds and let me heal.

But God knows I've tried
to join, create, remold, and strive
only to be repaid dirt for gold...
you all lied.

You're doin it now!
You don't know
how fake you are
and your show
that does nothing for what I, he, she, we
really need.

Is it greed?
Or pride or self-love?
Or maybe pain.

That's it
isn't it?
Can you admit
You're stuck in your shit
just like me.
So full of yourself
and scared, crying for help
you can't see another or let them in.


You say, "Brother be open.
You're so broken"
But you're jokin
'cause I've been there in your house
while your daughter was openin'
her mouth
swallowin all those...
lies.
Fed to her by guys
and everyone she "knew"
was a cry for help to YOU
who weren't there.

She's broken and so are you and me and that other guy too.
Let me tell you about him...ALL of us "Christians"
who say they will and they want
to share a thing in your heart
and in the same breath call me passive aggressive
but that's impressive
comin' from you
who leave ME standing in parking lots callin' your phone
'cause you conveniently forgot that I was comin'
dude it was... YOUR HOME!

Or like your other bother
who gave me grief for drivin kids on my own
and then left me standin' alone
on the side of the road
with a pukin' kid and his new best friends wearin' his guts.
And you waved!
Waved and you knew!
Waved like I'm nuts
wonderin' why
I'm just some guy
stoppin' my car so you can fly by.
And you knew the kid was sick
and said nothing.
But I'm the big dick
who can't forgive 'cause, "we'll pay the cleaner guy."
No thanks dude.
You owe me what you gave me...
nothing.

God, it makes me sick.

And everyone wonders what will work
makin plans
buildin dreams
when all around are guys like me
just lookin for you
to be true
to what... you... say.

We should forgive? Gladly, ask away!
I promise you pardon
cause I just want it to stop.
But you won't will you?
No you're heart's too hardened
Hard and puffed up (what does that sound like Jock)
on the praise of your deeds
or your ego
or whatever your trip is.
You won't ask for forgiveness
but you'll sure get offended.
Call me and up end it
in a verbal tussle.
Face it, you'd love to muscle
the broken man down
and call that... faith...defended.

But there has to be a better way
If this is all we got,
I don't want to play.
Been there, man
I can say,
it's a dark place
and I know the taste
of my own blood.
and the barrel of a gun.

I'm not goin to wrap this
in some tight package
of how good God or life is.
I don't know
I'm just a lost soul
with a big mouth
a dark mind
and lots of hidden wreckage.
And I want to be done.

I don't know, but I have desired.
If I can dream somethin better
that stokes the fire.
If there's a chance God is real
then dreams might be inspired.

So that's how I'll head
through the hate
and the pain.
And I dread if I'm wrong
but I can't think that I am.
There's either nothing behind
or my soul's already damned.

So the one chance I've got
to escape tasting shot
is to become what I'm not
to let go of the rot-
ten fruit you keep shovin at me.  I am not
going... to... play.