Poem for the young (first draft)

To the young stay strong
I pen this poem for the young to come,
for those far from now above the star.
So when my years are eaten and stolen from me
I know I used my gift so wonderfully to shed
light to knowledge given me from the king
so listen up to doctrines I bring.


The battle is of the mind, I declare with my voice
Im not a preacher, the calling is not for me
though I may have the gift secretly
Im not a minister or prophet, I dont want to be!
Im not a lawyer or doctor or high judge.
Im just a farmer, a nobody, though lazy at times.
 Im a writer! Im sure of it, a poet is what I am.
I write of life and what I feel within me, around me.
Im a philosopher, im all about nature, im the animals
locked in the zoo, im tamed in speech with words few,
but with the pen I commit the most atrocious crimes.
Im a teacher most of all- one to one is my call.
Im just a boy, im not the president, but in words
I find pleasure, in thoughts I escape.
I dont confront, I write. Thats how I fight.

Still, money is calling my name, asking my
hand in the marriage of her game, the world seduces with kisses
and promises finer things. Should I run the race
of her love or stand still and finish dead last.
Should I save myself using my better gifts or fall with the masses.
Should I stand on the mountain top and turn stone to bread
hungry as I am
or end it all my misery- to make a choice is my destiny.
What will my future be, money is evil, but who dont love her?
She deceives people and gets away. Oh, its crazy

I say
Do the young care of heaven
of a day not yet seen
of sufferers and weary laborers?
Do those born wish for hell
before age is ripe
for them to spell?
Do the old keep secrets
do they mirror the young with regrets?
Why cant things just be
heaven a fantasy
hell a calamity
time a reality
the clock is ticking
its speaking!
Think!
Which brain would wish of hell
and eternal torment?
which soul could turn down heaven
on a silver plate- the pearly gates?

Some things are better left unsaid
For heaven too is on earth
and hell has its home on the soil.
I say what is the worth of man?
Name your price!
To whom will he sell his goods?
who will buy his gifts
Where will his influence rest
Which side will he take, head or tail
or rather live in a mental jail.
 Heres what I see... holy warfare
Catholics fighting Christians- all other religions
parties fighting parties
Gods people fighting Gods people
 to my sleep I say wake up
somethings messed up.
Why do we fight is it not to survive
why do the people live a lie.
This prophet wont risk his life, no
this prophet will sit back and watch
why should a good man die.
So my thoughts take me to heaven
I live in the hills
I try to forget societies ills.

Its confusion all around
thats how its meant to be, dont ask me why
even souls are bought and paid
you loose hard O friend if  be afraid.
To the young -stay strong
use your days before too long
To the young forget of stress
of time of pressures and troubling tests.

A poem for the young whose
eyes are dreamy, whose arms are
mighty and wishfully selfish.
The elders do envy the oil of
young for they know it dont last long
who seek pleasure but torn
and severed by a youth long gone.
Oil is expensive and precious as time
more valuable than gold and earthly treasures
Be careful how used.
To the young, go your way
follow your heart however astray
it may be that the weather may
shine on thee wherever thy path
will lead- to the young I plead


For I plead to myself not to waste
my health of strenght and days
but to use my glory for praise
either to me or the one who gave
because the lead for all ends grave.
To eat my food while its hot
and to drink the milk before it spoils
to use a ticket before  expiration
My poem for the young generation

To the young seek out wisdom
for wisdom will kiss thee in the lonely
night even when age is bright
and whisper to thee the most tenderly
of whispers and make thee laught
at the folly of others.
To cover thee from the stormy rain
to plant thee like a seed to grow firm
and with tender care and produce sweetly


A poem for the young- look within!
my only care is of time wasting
for its all within, hopes, dreams,
fears, happiness brings tears
but only for the eyes that see.
So to the young I say
forget of pressures, forget of tests
forget of pains, forget the rest
forget tommorow it is not here.
live today and have the best
the best is yours. 
For it is all folly and useless
to many, even those with plenty
whose hearts empty like open hands
our graves are waiting but not for long
so why with worrying- to the young stay strong.

Mythical_Poet- 30 April 2012- draft 1
last poem for the month. (No more- I will give it a rest)

Women Kryptonite

They're everywhere, he cant hide nowhere.

Like there she is and his mind goes kcshhhhh

no signal,he tries to swim but Kryptonite got him weak

Never saw it coming, slowly, just like that

baaam hes on the ground. Its over.

What is it about this girl thats making him

depressed and sick in a good way? He smiles,

 no comedy, but tries to compose calmly,

she's killing him softly and not even trying.

Its too late-he's dying.

Poetry for women kryptonite coloring him black and yellow

dark red thoughts like unusually blue streams

threaten his conscious flow of actions,

inhibitions crying out to be free- saying release me!

hearts pulling  fish two ways like bait- hes trapped.

He escapes how?Now he sits at work reminiscing, why,

why did he let her breeze on by without even trying

or saying whats on his heart? A poet of all types?

women kryptonite teasing blind dumb and deaf,

he's not even listening like whats she saying!

But I got the antidote for women kryptonite, yes

to mix myself a safety potion for their deadly motion.

Real men dying to know women not for krypronite sake,

for kryptonite are women who weaken men biting them

with joyful woes; recovery, yow it takes time!

But he'll be fine cause shes gone now, not on radar

if she ever comes near him is what he fears most

cause he needs her, is she the one or a roller coaster?

they're so many around here, wherever he go

whatever he see, a woman kryptonite is following him.

But Superman's alright, he doesn't rescue  women kryptonite.

Why? Cause Superman is just a man, every mans the same human.

Say what? Flawless superhuman tendencies? You better watch out!

Only superman skips on water, I know someone who tried

Not too long after he had to hide.

or Judas you know he died. Peter or Judas you decide. The antidote,

Im no Judas, you know I wont deny- women kryptonite got me high.

Mythical_Poet- draft 1

Work of Art@2012-April

Work in Progress... second version

Forever Young (1987-2012)

FOREVER YOUNG (1987-2012)

Im growing up but still feel like a kid
my behavior isn't normal-its granted.
I live in a different time zone, im not
on this earth, my life is a gift wrapped
neatly in a curse.
My body is big, but my spirit is small
I have a humble heart even though Im tall.
im climbing the age ladder
looking down childhood days
Im forever young and feel the same way.
If you look at me, you would think me sixteen
but really im twenty four living in a dream.
My senses take trips back and forth to fantasy
I want to wake up badly but still feel the gravity.

I cant say alive, normal is lying
maybe all this is going on deep in my mind.
Understand I dont consume days, months or years
in one day I drink seven glasses of eternity.
Two years ago was a very long time
twenty years from now is a "life-time".
I live for today and nothing more
what good is tomorrow when you cant be sure.
For how does a grown up act, what does a grown up do
how many grown ups wish they were twenty-two.
For age is an illusion, its the soul that counts
forever young at heart and time it counts.
So when its all over and I cant feel a thing
I'll know I lived forever no time wasted.

Mythical_Poet- dft1

To a fallen Angel

Darling how did you turn darkness from light

how did you frown from a face shined bright

how did you corrupt the order of your way

for something that screams it does not pay

why do you hunt  meat the souls of men

for your charms I write this poem.

To a fallen angel  loud and clear

turn up the base of love, I wanna hear.

To Delilah,  dont you pray

sight hypnotizing, pleasing to my ear.

To a singer, where are you from?

Nobody makes music quite like your songs

To a broken chord, teach me how to play

how to write, how to dance,-creatively.

To a ancient tune your sound is so unique

a mystery, a fantasy, is what you speak.

To a prodigal child, you're good at what you do

Im tired of pretense, should I follow you?

To a dancer,  you're very highly intense

your light shines down your eternal sentence.

To my lady you're not so good for me,

you composed the beat but I wrote the poetry!

To red roses  what is your name?

Im not yet a fan, but I've smelt of your fame.

Mythical_Poet- copyrighted

dft1

A New Day

Intro
Wake me up in the morning
when the day is just beginning
Outside, the sky is blue
and the fun is slowly starting.
For the weather is fine
and the mood is kind
and thoughts are clear
Im beaming to go.

I need some movements
no long conversations
not too much thinking
to make my decision.
What am I waiting for,
It could be about a hour
before I get ready
for so much possibility.
.

Okay,Im going into town
dont know where as yet
i'll know when I get there.
I feel the music in the air
im forgeting about yesteryear
the sun is  shining warm
 am not staying home for
Today is a new day!

Mythical_Poet

Walking Solo

Do you know the enemy?
Its a jungle out there
stay close to home or face a nightmare
Survival is the name of the game so play
there are rules and levels- its all shady.
Few people are the only demons did you know.
Not all for some are angels- it may not show.
If I said I dont believe the Bible
would you condemn me?
If I said it was a trick
would you defend me?
If I said- you must study it
would you think me confused
a part of life is to pick and chose.
If I said be faithful who would say good
If I said be strong- you know you should
If I said fight, would you pick a gun
would you stand with me or would you run.
If I said its over- now what?
It dont make sense.
I know im not dumb, im just scared.
Im not a man just because of a beard
Theres a time when you're right
then you know you must fight.
The world is behind me, no lie
im on another level- goodbye
I walk these streets alone.
Even freedom has a price- loneliness.
Nothing lasts forever- it hurts
things are not what they seem
love is all about pain
fear is a bully that mistreats you
I cant escape this hole, these people
that want me captured or killed
Im not schizo or maybe I am
im just me, hope you understand.
I walk solo
Its a blessing and curse
Im deeply misunderstood in this verse.
I have no voice
Its all a lie.
Im one in this room
thinking my thoughts through, oh
What am I to have me do.
I walk  only-
 with nobody but me
I talk to myself privately.
am I a normal human being?
You may think im crazy- come again
You may think im fine- no
you may think im okay- im not.
Its much deeper than that
think twice before you judge me, like
You dont know how deep the well runs
you dont know how to play the game
you dont know how to make sense
You cant find a crowd to shout and play
time is a still and moving very slowly
depression kicks in- now its time to go.
You fight to stay alive- the game is just a killer
for no mere mortal can resist the evil of the thriller

Mythical_Poet- UNEDITED VERSION

Moody thoughts

1.

Most days im happy, some days im sad

few days im angry, mostly im glad

No day im thinking, I wont make it through

All day its raining, the mood could happen to you.

2.
Do you sometimes think like this,
What will I do with my life
honestly, I dont know, dont care
it seems life is going nowhere.
One thing I do know, got to survive
got to stay alive
 Do you?
Good. It means you're normal.

3.
Bonus

The only health plan some people have is 
the hope that they dont get sick insurance.
Pharmaceutical companies dont like this coverage! 
They cant trace its provider.

Mythical_Poet

a thought

Staying Alive

Listen to a story of someone  I know
who sits alone in crowds and pen words- here I go.
He defied nature, he cheated the order of things
He's not suppose to be here,living a paradise nightmare.
He stays in his house cause its quiet and free
dont like no crowds, cause he dont belong to any.
Hes not a bad guy he just feels misunderstood
The world is his, after he pays the morgage.
his inheritance is suspense an eternal sentence
He really belongs inside a mad house- he escaped!
now they cant catch him its no debate.
Daily he runs a hundred miles trying to escape
Im trying to find words to describe how he feels inside
Im the only friend in whom he can really confide.


He really dont belong to society- so he hides.
He asks, why does he do the things he does
why is he the way he is
why was he born where he was born
why does he live where he lives
who destined his life to be this way
who made him pain to laugh creativity.
Like why does he have no friends around
why bury himself inside a ground
why solitary and all alone
why does his heart form into stone
Socializing - he really tries
nothings real- but only lies.
Still he asks why. Like
why be strong, he doesnt give up
why still a child outside a mental cup
why these tears he tries hard to hide
for he cant trust a soul with these thoughts inside

But he remain dedicated to his poetry, artistry
it helps him, relieves him from tension through imagination
like Why be positive when nothing seems to fit
still he trys hard very hard to make it.
This blessed curse of a life was decided by the Gods
that sent him down to earth in lightening rods
I want you to understand exactly how he feels
dont go, dont go depression is leaving him-
he needs depression to make words flow readily
no fantasy depression does cause creativity
I guess its his destiny maybe. by now you can see
the person of my wonderful story is ME.


For creativity is not a switch you turn on and off
as inspiration is a gift purchased by tears.
Depression is like a hunger you cant satisfy
you need some food to make that feeling bye bye
It always returns to stab you in the back
Im only telling the truth and laying down the fact.
Im inspired to laugh, cry, sing and dance
as if by a chance I could heal some forgotten madness
to break a programmed mind, growing up is like waking up
from a bad dream
Honesty is never easy..

Mythical_Poet-DRAFT 1

The Angel who Fed me Cookies

Do Angels talk to Children?

Are hearts pure when years are few?

How do ancient thoughts express anew?

Once upon a time,in childhood days

My angel came to view me play like dancing

singing watching TV who would a known she'd

be looking at me.

She only knew to stop and stare,

above my sight, a light was there.

A sudden flight,-joy in my eye

Tata she says now its goodbye.

Will never forget as sweet as honey!

This angel of mine who fed me

cookies.

Mythical_Poet- draft 1

Writing About My Writers Block

I squeeze my heart for comfy words
I squeezed my brain but nothing came
I huff and puff to write some stuff
I drop my pen and count to ten
I feel like shit, I cant excrete
its nasty how these words could cheat
I feel depression kicking in
think fast my boy or you'll be in
I said wala, my writers clock
im writing about my writers block!

Mythical_Poet

The forbidden Fruit

The story of man, the story of life, the story of generations conquering strife
The story of woman, the story of creation is life's complication a sticky situations.
The story of Christ, and how he came to be, and what he did for mankind- the possibility.
The story of you, your future and me, what you'll do and what you will see.
The story of the fruit, the price to pay, for pleasures astray- a child today.
The story of pain, of bitter and sweet, of how not to cheat, a life away.
The story of time,  and time again, and what remains, eternal gains
The forbidden fruit of good and bad, the good is bad, of bad comes good
But it all ends in death as no one lives forever

Mythical_Poet- draft 1

Emotions Swept

A normal day, a normal time
feeling normal so as fine.
Things get hot
emotions flow for tender sweep as
drunkard dreams.
Reminiscing, contemplating, whats
the deal of this ordeal.
Sit me down, feelings grow
I dont know- how to take.
Suddenly emotions blow up in my blood
im getting high. Times a still
I hear a voice, a gentle noise so
full of poise.
He opens slow my mouth to peak
I start to speak, im getting weak.
He takes me fly up to the sky
he puts me down, he says goodbye.
I wonder wow, tears in my eye
why did I cry
feelings gone bye.
That comes and goes
just as he sees,suddenly
 like wind moves on tress.

Mythical_Poet- draft 1

Fighting for life

Tortoise steps climbs the top
for gold, for life, who will not stop?
Pay the price, you'll get it all
to rise quickly  you must fall.
One more step, he's almost there
fighting for life is really unfair.


Like does the game mean anything to me
How can I breathe so aimlessly.
My tortoise steps keep me going
the truth of life is worth not knowing.
Cause if he stops he'll spend away
the joys of life that makes him stray

Mythical_Poet

Pain is Love

Every artist knows the game
that pain is love and love is pain.
What he knows he cant explain,
in great expression comes great gain.
Its hurts him much where words restrain
still pain is love and love is pain.

Like am I good enough, am I tuff
my words dont seem to touch this stuff.
Cause the truth is- pain hurts, and
the truth is- love is the truth.
the truth is- this poem is not yet complete
my heart cant compose to this beat.

Mythical_Poet

Keep yo Sanity (rap song)

Chorus:
You gotta keep yo sanity
in this calamity
you gotta keep yo sanity
in this catastrophe
you gotta keep yo sanity
in this humanity
you gotta keep yo sanity
in this depression

Verse 1-
Its a serious thing
for you to lose yo sanity
its a serious thing
for you to give up that easy
its a serious thing
for you to loose your sanity
its a setious thing
dont do it.

Verse 2-
So when I think of a crash
I  put my seat-belt on
when I think of a crash
I  put my soldier on
when I think of a crash
I  keep my motor on
cause when think of a crash
its on. Im saying.

Verse 3-
Cause the time is at hand
there's no time for depression
said the time is at hand
got to make my selection
cause the time is at hand
got to wake up humanity
the time is at hand
lets go.

Mythical_Poet

Lazy Poem

This Poem cannot find words to begin
this poem cries for thoughts and ideas to win.
this poem will not satisfy a poets hunger
this poem will cease to exist any longer.

This poem is lazy, lazy as can be
this poem lacks verbal creativity
this poem will not end on a good note
this poem is still stuck inside my throat.

Mythical_Poet

I wanna Know

I wanna know the secret to success,
the power within so put me to the test.
I wanna know whats on the other side
the life of this man, and where a man resides.

I wanna know what will my future be,
I wonder at the strange voice of destiny
I wanna know where i'll go from here
to stop and stare as through a cloudy mirror.

I wanna know what is love,
the one down below or higher up above.
I really wanna know all these things
most of all I wanna know the joy a child brings.

Mythical_Poet
copyright

Mythical_Poet

Alter ego is a persona unknown and unheard
quiet and realistic especially implicit.
A character mythic, yet seemingly prolific
Imaginative and creative with a flow sedative.
Extroverted to words and letters with a pen
talks alot on paper quite often.
Experience is the mother and teacher of knowledge,
knowledge is the key to set people free.
From inside prison walls all dark and cold
the future is  yet a story untold.
Mythical_Poet set to rob and steal
the false ideologies of mass appeal.
A simple song, a meal of fish, to fish
your soul from a dish of rubbish.

Mythical_Poet- you decide if  true
fables on tables feeding stories to you.
Mythical_Poet, heard-of but not yet seen,
bursting on the scene in letters selected keen.
Mythical_Poet where have you been
the mystery of art is always  serene.

Mythical_Poet

Feelings

The best poems are born from feelings
like take a feel trip visit places green
like mountain scenes near Caribbean beaches.
I feel right now here at home a regular day
but never say never come out to play like
yipidi yapidi vaduka, uh ray!
Feelings- like terrible traffic scenes; or picnics, picking peppers
for the pot or sad stares, orange faces, lousy places
all feelings based on emotions.


Hungry sacks  means silent misery
until I fix me some crispies or luggage s and suitcases of sandwiches
with mayonnaise- giving God the praise for fulling sacks.
Feelings come from inside -cant hide and seek
just speak of peace be still and meek. Feelings of human visions, human decisions like
human abortions or human extortion s in fetuses of half human deliveries.

Feelings of mysteries- like tragedies of societies,twin-tower calamities
erruption of political and social
volcanoes, disrupting the peace. Like feelings of Ethiopians against Mussolini- angry
positions of priests in power behind closed doors or pulpit towers.
Feelings of alliteration- like freedom fighters in foreign lands fully feeling the
pain of fallen former soldiers
are fleeing fleets of fluent furious filmers with fully fueled tankers of film to
finish the feud finally.
Feelings of stress- like sitting tests in lobby,s on top of stolen monies feeling like
useless dummies.
Feelings of failure. Feeling fun and clumsy but got no money, the least to sunny
and tremendously ugly especially touchy

For feelings come and go like seasons of rain, heat, snow
like stealing memories and framing them in pictures,feelings arent real
but they made you feel- they appeal.

Mythical_Poet- draft 1

To Numero Uno.

Dear Numero Uno,

How are you? I’ve been meaning to write or call quickly but I’m now engaged to other activity. I received your last letter; but I’ve been busy. Now I know how you must feel. We use to live within  close proximity  now we've fallen apart nearly completely. Unfortunately I couldn’t stay, so please don’t cry, but accept my apology. I’ll be okay. Go on.

Anyways, I’m free now, so we cannot do the things you suggested. I’ve always wanted freedom so  guess I should have protested. Now is my shine.This is my first time. I don’t know what to expect, am still a little nervous about the select.  I heard of many places, many bills and many thrill. Thinking about it lustfully just served me the chills.

People say she’s no good and I should leave her alone. Those people are old and probably misery is their home. I heard she keeps 'till death do us part'; still I just want to sample the affairs of my heart. For adventures are dreams until you make them come true, I’m only 21 so what can I do? 

Finally, I’m not afraid anymore; I’m free as a bird! I’m just doing me in case you never heard. People chat this; people will chat that, I've listened in tune before now I’ll  cancel all that chat. I’ll soon come to know if it’s true what they say. The truth hurts my love, but I never cared for compliance anyway.

Sincerely yours

Mythical_Poet

Whats out there?

A younger me use to dream,
dream of places I've never been.
Things are not as they seem,
my world-a scope with a theme
 my eyes- reflections of a narrow mind
my voice- lonely as a winter owl. feeling whats
 left of senses that say come and play.

In the world beyond my world
a world beyond the stars
fairer than Venus, Jupiter and mars.
I sit in lobbys, and dream
dream of whats out there.
but its okay- my plane is here.

Mythical_Poet- draft 1

On Being Depressed.

Does weather jump up and down,
when storms spin round and round.
Do people take time to play or
sit at home weary all day.
Do children sing, shout and dance
without the mood of a merry chance.


Does the rain smile, do storms ever fade
does pain cut the soul like a blade.
You fall down, but spring back up
all cut and woozed like winter blues.
finally the sun shines again.


Oh no,of this quiet misery
a sigh here, a sigh there,I sigh of fear
sometimes on my prayer.
Sleepish thoughts, weakish swesh
Tortoise steps or slower breaths.
Cant you see Im depressed.

Mythical_Poet
draft 1

Watch that crazy boy

Watch that crazy boy, watch that boy
play with a toy.
Watch those baby clouds
lost in space like forbidden crowds.
Watch those 'go astrays', who die
to eat on other days. Watch prayers fly,
like birds in angry sky watch me get high.
Tik a tok watch that clock dance, swuu, spune..watch the cow jump
over the moon, watch me steal a glance like zoom zoom. Watch.
Now watch that crazy boy,
with his pen shady and coy.

Mythical_Poet
if this poem dont make sense, then pluck that crazy poet.

Sinister Thoughts

Dont wake him, let him sleep,
on his right, or left hand he keeps.
His nasty and sinister thoughts go ahead,
if he were alive we all might be dead.
For his kind at least is a global minority
gifted but deadly like animals of savagery
clumsy the name, imagination for a brain
for a gift,a curse,for life theres pain.

Mythical_Poet

Yellow Brick Word

Once a boy walked on the yellow brick Word
where he read of ancient stories.
One day he walks no more
to hear and see of yellow brick glories.
He wont waste his life decoding a talking Book
cause its light outside- so, he bravely takes a look!

For bullet, she shot him dead with awful lies,
slowly, with a kiss- his heart revives.
Now he stop bullets with hands,-he's alive.

Mythical_Poet- draft 1
copyrighted

Rap Rhymes (dirty)

Im bout as warm as r refrigerator
with a ice disiminator, holding my
food like a pregnant belly of a 7 month
baby almost ready to terminata, and begin a
life with a carrier as promising as a janitor
im not a manager, im a planeter, the planet is
a ejaculating unwanted specimen like vomita
and calling for the rebirtha of sanita
 just a sinner Im no begina except a winna wid ma  rap rhymes

Im moving slowla, im not Hussein bolta
my brain is a volta, storing all kinds of treasures like golda
I diss pleasures to stay humble and grounded, im well
rounded, I got a  degree my nigga so im well-founded- im not bounded
by rules of religion, i made a decision to think outside the
box of a kentucky, im not lucky, my flow sounds dope like that boy Chucky
no dollar bills, no saws, no guns except lyrically, really, no jewelery- im just playing
the games over, so im chilling- im not a rap nigga, just
my skills im revealing- My rap rhymes.


Here we go, one last time. Im Adam tall, though my Adam apples fall
I play sports, but I dont bounce that basket ball. Can you hear the music, if you cant
your brain is small, just like a doll I'll break your limbs till nothings left at all,
who will you call, got mafia to connect the spots, im not a gangsta my nigga, but my lyrics
will connect like dots, I told you, you chickens is robots rhyming repeated thoughts
of coo-signers content soft like a woman,s va ey ey a blinders-opps good boys musn't say those words
now im ill I need a doctor to clean my throat, Im thinking of linking linking park to start a spark
but in the end it dont even matter like visions after dark, so
im just gonna leave you nice and slow so you could finally hear your flow
My rap rhymes bit you so now I got to go.

Mythical_Poet.
draft 1

Seperation Method

The game's a separation method
scripted to single out solos.
I seperate myself from the sea
of crowds that drown like oceans deep.
I swim to shore hand with no vest
Standing alone I do, to the test.

Mythical_Poet

What I know

Do you know what I know
Do you really, really know?
Can you go where I go,
Can you go to that place?

I disappear without a trace
moving in and out of crowds
to where nobody will discover
im running for dear life

From  mountain tops
I see things clearly
like visions of magic
that divides and conquers

On mountains I disappear
for they wont find me here
 what I see does scare
As for me I want no share.

Mythical_Poet
draft 1

My Life

This one is from the heart.

I love my life, but

what will I do with my life?

Honestly, I dont know, dont care

my life is going nowhere.

One thing I do know, got to survive

got to stay alive



Mythical_Poet
draft 1

Stick Up

Look up, dont look down, dont move
dont look around, dont eat this
dont eat that, dont read this, dont think
just close your eyes and dont blink
Do what I say and hand me your money
cause thats all I want, what belongs to you
you're free now, to do as I tell you. A stick up.

Mythical_Poet.
draft1- 04-1-12

If God was a Man

If God was a man
He would be Rasta upon the hills
just a stranger, viewing societies ills.

If God was a man
he would be unknown
walking around town mingling and doing his own.

If God was a man
would you talk to him
dirty and old he looks it would seem.

If God was christian
would he be in church
following the rules of creatures he birthed.

If God was man
what would his political party be
PNP or JLP?

If God was man
he would live with the poor
so nobody pays him with prayers no more.

Cause God is a wisely man
thats for sure, and the wise are
solitary- the truth is not known.

Mythical_Poet
draft 1