A Heartfelt Welcome

To those of you who call me friend, those of you that call me love, those of you who call me brother, those of you that call me son, those of you who call me hero, & those of you who don't know me at all: I welcome you to the mind of a man who's destined to save the world...
1 word at a time.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Don't Judge Me

I’m sensitive
Like extra sensitive
Not like
“I’ma tell mommy on you
For making fun of me” sensitive
But “a couple movies
(one or more may or may not
Have been made by Disney)
Some sad songs here or there
And some of my own poetry
Has made me cry at some point” sensitive

Don’t judge me

I like chocolate
To say I’m obsessed with it
Would be an understatement
3 Musketeers, M&Ms
Kit Kats & Crunch bars
Are some of the greatest
Cavity creators ever
But they’re not my favorite sweet
Top spot
Goes to cherry flavored
Pull N’ Peel

Go Figure

Don’t judge me

The Beatles
Elvis Presley
& Bruce Springstein
Can all kiss my ass
I said it

Don’t judge me

If they had boxed DVD sets
Of the seasons of
Rugrats, Eureka’s Castle
Gullah Gullah Island
Original Power Rangers
Recess, Dexter’s Laboratory
& The Powerpuff Girls
I’d buy them all

Don’t judge me

Now that I think about it
Some of the songs from
The Backyardigans
And Dora The Explorer
Are dope

Shut up
Don’t judge me

Since we’re talking about my childhood
I’ve had only two incidents
Where I’ve urinated
But somehow all the pee
Landed on me

Don’t judge me

One of which was in 3rd grade
Back when they had a bathroom
In each classroom
I’m standing there
Facing the toilet
When I notice the door’s open
A little bit

A freshly mopped floor plus
Pants and ninja turtle undies
Around my ankles are the things
I forget
When I foolishly reach for the
To grab it

So what happens??
I slip
Landing on my back
Never forgetting
The feeling of my urine
Hitting my own lips

Stop laughing
Don’t judge me

The worst experience
I’ve ever had sexually
(well one of the worst experiences
Of my life in general actually)
Was when I lost my
To this day
I’m still reminded of it
Anytime I see
A girl eating
Buffalo wings

Don’t judge me

I’ve both loved too hard and not enough

Don’t judge me

Sometimes I play too much

Don’t judge me

I lack confidence

Don’t judge me

I’ve broken too many hearts… including my own

Don’t judge me

My friends and family are so much better than yours

Don’t judge me

I hate asking for help

Don’t judge me

As you can see… I like to crucify myself

Don’t judge me

Despite my insecurities
Embarrassing yet hilarious stories
The fact I can face accept and laugh
At these things
Just add to my glory

Maybe you should do the same
Maybe you should put a mirror
In ya brain
To reflect on your memories
Maybe transparent is the way to be

I know for me
It saved me
From me

So do me a favor
Judge and then love yourself
Await the verdict
From your own jury

I’ve received mine already

Making it real easy
For me to speak

Don’t judge me

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Heartbreak On Shuffle

So I’ve decided
I can’t have anymore
“heartache music”
on my iPod.

It’s depressing.

What sucks worse?
A good 4500 tracks will be deleted
from a song list semi completed
at 6500

That total’s gone now
No more sad songs now
Only party anthems
and thought provoking melodies
from here on out

Give me a good old fashioned love song
to shout in the middle of the streets
Yes you can call me
Prince Akeem
but I’m not Coming to America
I’m walking out of hysteria
out of depression
out of tears falling

But I’ll be damned
if that John Legend joint ain’t calling me
I feel like Kanye is talking for me
Screw you too Alicia Keys
Maroon 5?
Don’t get me started on those guys

You know what’s bad?
I don’t even have to be in the situation
the song is presenting
I wouldn’t have to be sad or mad
I could hear “Can You Stand The Rain”,
be in a completely great mood
and still say
“Why do sad songs sound so good?”

Are they in some way easier to listen to?
Is it because they contain truths?
Is it me or is there something better to
musically & morally relate to
than heartbreaks surrounded by 808s
or tunes about relationship issues?

As much as I’m a victim to
an awesome break-up song too
I’d much rather my spirit
not be so consumed with such gloom

So DJ change the tunes
so I can attempt
to right some wrongs.
Give me something dope
so I can stop falling in love
with heartbreak songs.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Confessions of a Dance Machine

It could be just me

But I think I need to stop dancing

It gets me into trouble
It’s difficult to stop because
of the feeling
it feeds me

It excites me
Yet it calms me

There’s a releasing
produced when
melodies, lyrics & beats
are injected into my
super-bass laced eardrums
and circulated through my body
starting and stopping
at my feet

It’s kind of a tick that goes off
anytime something rhythmic comes on

Don’t test me and let the DJ throw on a hot song

Because I won’t be able to tell you
Exactly what could happen next

I could be in somebody’s face
Like a 3D movie
Making him or her
yet another
dance battle casualty

or just in the corner
keeping my own company
letting my limbs
run free musically

Picture me
and a handful
of my best buds
in a human made circle
cutting a rug
and you’ll see a moment
I love

Believe me when I say
We go to town

Each one of us could be a Jackson or Brown
I can tell ya now
Who’s Michael
Who’s Bobby
And Who’s Tito

I’m good as long as I can be Chris though

We put on a show….. Unintentionally

Ironically enough
some of the attention
brought by
dancing isn’t
too cool

You’d be surprised
how many hearts
are broken by
a free spirit
on a dance floor
acting a fool

You’d be shocked
how many egos,
fueled by jealousy
of moves unattainable,
are humbled after
stepping in front of
a dancing assassin
thinking “get some rhythm you tool”

It’s partly my fault

I’m tired of dancing myself into
dramatic situations,
which is why I think
I need to sit down
for a while

Well at least publicly

Because honestly,
whether I’m Jerking
Party rocking or Pop-Locking
Krumping, Tutting, or Shuffling
Wu-tanging or “Running Man-ing”
Doing the Cabbage Patch
or the Dougie
(mind you sometimes I do multiple
of these simultaneously),
It’s obvious I cant resist
what a good song
does to me

Maybe that’s why
she called me
A Dance Machine

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Pinocchio's Wish

I pray
I never run out of her
If I do
My lungs will cease function
My blood will thin out
Suffocation shall begin

She's my air

I hope
The glass I have of her
Stays full
If it empties
My temple will sweat
My throat will be engulfed in flames
Dehydration will commence

She's my elixir

I wish
the cling I have to her
Holds forever
If I release
My skin will go numb
Every folicle of my hair
Will fall
Deterioration can start

She's my gravity

I'm addicted
By anything
She speaks
& does

And that might be the problem

She's got me by the...


She can make me smile
Dance & Sing
Walk & talk
Anyway she wants
With the tug of her finger

Worst part?
I like it

I wanna be a real boy

No longer a puppet played
By strings of influence
But a man of flesh & bone
Able to walk talk
Sing dance
Work succeed
Love pray
On my own

I think it'd be appreciated
By my "Ms. Geppetto"
If she let go
Of the puppet controls
And watched me
Perform my own show

Allowing me to become
The human man
I was created to be
All the while
Making her (one day)
The leading lady

She's my air
She's my gravity
She's my elixir
She's my joy

But you can't feel
Flesh feelings
As a puppet


I can't wait to be a real boy...

Monday, June 20, 2011

Pop's Father's Day Gift

Because of how underrated
This day is
Because of how criticized
This day is

I was gonna write a poem
about deadbeats
about the “no-call, no-shows”

This poem was going to be
a dedication to mothers
acting as fathers

It was going to be
a depiction of life
without Pop

I started it….
But I immediately stopped

I couldn’t relate

I have a “Pop”
A Dad
A Father
More than just a figure
Pop has been around
for the full 25 years of my existence
as well as the 20 years
of my sibling’s

I must admit
it wasn’t always
happy times
All three of us
have become
butting-head bighorns
at some point
But despite our differences

Pop was here

At least he was here
for me to argue with

This piece is not a brag or boast
It’s a toast

To the man who taught me how to fight
How to treat women with respect
How to read people
How to swing my elbows, ball secured,
after coming down from a rebound

To the man that genetically showed
my brother how to play the drums
To the man that’s the main reason
I have a sick & sometimes corny
sense of humor
To the man who loves and tenderly
takes care of the woman
who birthed me

Thank you

Thank you for being the standard
that should be held by
all men
who need to be
want to be
or already are

I hope to be ¾ the father you are

Maybe then my son or daughter
will write a poem
for me too.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Thank Ya Kindly, Papermate

I wanted to speak
I wanted to tell a story
I wanted to mold a soul
I wanted to provide an escape
I wanted to move a mountain
I wanted to extend & expand a river

I wanted to save my family… both sides
Well… whoever needed saving anyway

I wanted to single-handedly uplift a nation

I wanted to explain my days of infamy
The 21st of May
The 14th of November
Days to remember
Days of Birth
Days of Death
Days of 2010
Days to forget

I wanted to become a song

I wanted her to know that it’s not her fault…
That I don’t blame her...
She did what she had to do…

What we had to do…

I wanted to slaughter my enemies
Mortal Kombat Fatality style

I wanted to confess why I’ve stopped crying
Don’t get me wrong...
I’m still sensitive enough to share this with you
but no one sees my tears
They don’t see that side of me
so vividly anymore

I wanted people to know
my brother is a genius

I wanted to talk about why we should leave
both Lebron & Libya alone

I wanted to know what’s wrong with my friend
If it’s because I didn’t write that poem
you’ve been waitin’ on… I’m sorry dude
But if you were presented with the pressure
of having your words tattooed
on something more permanent than paper
You’d be scared too

I wanted to go back to Orlando

I wanted to express why I still love her
Why the world can’t tell me anything about her
Why I’d die for her

I wanted to resurrect the dead
rearrange time,
rewrite history,
And rebuild reason
I wanted to meditate
I wanted to pray
I wanted to rest
I wanted a response
I wanted to bask in the pool
of my spirit’s thoughts
and emotions

I wanted the matter behind my skull
to produce steaming fecal substances
to share with others

Scratch that… even better:

I wanted to wipe the a** that is my brain
with my notebook
So that the end result
would be a paper imprint of
Hot Sh*t

But I couldn’t

My mind was constipated

And my damn pen ran out of ink…

Friday, April 15, 2011

Horror Story

Darkness has spread
Throughout the streets
The eerie creek
Of screen doors
& stormshutters swaying
Back & forth in the wind
Sends shudders & shivers
In spines

But this isn't your average
Horror Story

The clouds move
And suddenly
The reflection of the moon
Turns pavement
Into sun dunes
lingers around the corner
Waiting for instructions
On what further
To do

But this is not your average
Horror Story

Don't worry
It still has your favorite characters

The innocent woman
Who's just trying to
Find her way
Living her life
night & day
night & day

Until she randomly meets


Forget "Man of her Dreams"
Was this type of dude
Too good be true
Was an understatement

So when the leading lady
Gets scared
Of his uniqueness
What does that make him?

I am the villain to her horror story

Me saying "I'm sorry"
When I'm wrong
Terrifies her

Cooking her surprise dinners
When she comes home
Horrifies her

Me never denying her
Never disregarding my loyalty to her
Shocks her

My refusal to ridicule her
My yearn to never yell at her
My faith in her
My forgiveness of mistakes of hers
My ease of letting my pockets break for her
Has taken the essence
The life
From her

So she runs

She thinks that she's broken free
Of me
But the ghost of my prescence
Is presented in her dreams
Her resentment of her decision stalks her

My uniqueness haunts her

The fact that no man can live up to what I can give
Damn near brings her to the brink
Of death
She wakes with deep breaths

Awoken by nightmares of a perfect family
A white picket fence
A House on a hill
Things that make sense
But because she's afraid
It's just

She's tired of running
Just as much as I'm tired
Of chasing
So being that as I said before
that this is not ya average horror story
I'm gonna be the 1 villain to quit
And walk into my own glory

If you insist
On why I added this
simple, yet complex twist
It's because this
Is not at all
a horror story

Its my life

A heartbreak's epitome

The summary
Of events
That have effected
Every bit of me


This is nothing more
Than my average

Love story

Friday, February 4, 2011



That's the sound of a generation lost
Confused as to what to do
So unaware of where their spirit lies
That they're searching for it
Via facebook


That's the sound of a future unknown
So stupid as to who they are
That they're using
the amount of people
that follow them
to determine their own value


Shots fired
Outta my brain
Thru my fingers
Onto my blackberry
Into an app
That provides me
The opportunity to
"express myself"
However these same
fingers are trapped
Dancing across letters
In a reply
To my sick friend's status
Telling her to feel better


On that bullet is my guilt
Because of the pedastal I built
"I'll continue to use
social networking
as long as
I don't allow it
to use me"
Still, Excuse me
Pardon me
Don't mind me
For I don't need a profile
To define me


That's the sound of a friendship lost
A relationship gone
A family broken
Because of a status posted
As much as I hope it
Times will never go back
To how it used to be

When couples started out talking face to face
When hate wasn't as publicized as it is today
When long lost friends
got caught up on their lives
because they actually met some place
When you received rejection in 1 of 2 ways
Over the phone or in your face
When "delete friend" didn't mean
You lost a spot on someone's page
You were literally erased

When people knew how to
write & type right
When a hashtag
and a few words strung together
didn't completely sum up
somebody's life

When things were simple
And it didn't take
seeing a status or a tweet
to complicate it


There goes tranquility
There goes hostility
There goes love
There goes friends
There goes pain
There goes lonelyness
There goes lazyness
There goes desire

We're all goners


Thursday, January 27, 2011


Is filling my void
Urges to love or hate
Are destroyed

There is nothing

An empty glass bottle
That once had the carbonation
Of emotions bubbling
On its insides
Stands alone
At room temperature
No warmth
No coldness
Just dry

Just a guy
Who's tried
To control his pride
As the people he loved
So dearly
Have him

Call me Jesus
But I don't wanna die
For my people's sins
I used to though
Unconditional Love
in my heart used to flow
But now if you were
To speak into my soul
You would hear your own

I feel nothing

No more blood
Boiling or freezing
in my veins
But I know
Its still flowing
Because my life
Is sustained

2 rivers
Unknowingly & uncontrollably
stream on both sides
Of my face
They're not of pain
They're not of sorrow
They're not of joy

Tears of nothing

When I say this
You may be appalled
But I both love & hate
that I'm feeling
The feeling of not feeling

Its amazing
that you can still feel

Nothing at all