In search of fame, at sanity’s cost
You a household name, but all privacy lost
You make a mistake, they hang you up on a cross
All of a sudden they forgot who you are
They forgot about all the times you hustled and fall
Please show me a king thats never suffered a loss
Or show me a man that never suffered a scar
And I’ll show you a man thats never given his all
I’ll show you man thats never given his heart
If im becoming a monster, it’s all ya fault
You can’t be a gentleman when you swimming with sharks
Shit, when you wanna be Superman, who gonna be Clark Kent
Pour out my heart until I wind up heartless
Tryna become a father without having a father
They hate when you ride then celebrate when you fall
But throughout it all, I just ball……….

….

Aborted before it even got the chance to be a mission

A singer

An athlete

A poet

A televangelist in a cheap suit

With car salesman hair

Shit – anything

Grow fingers or eyes or ass

Like her mama

Nigga yelling

Ionevenwannahearnodrama

Is it possible that omnipotent God who sees and knows everything

Destined this thing

To be nothing?

Cellular clumps of shortsighted aspiration

Discarded like bad poems and used condoms

A convenient sludge labeled medical waste

after death precedes birth and leaves no after taste

Of thought…

More than aborted life

This is Aborted destiny….

Heartless fate and cruel manipulation of medical intelligence

We’re so advanced that we regress to this

And me and the other life poets we sit

Certain that

There can’t be other galaxies?

And if aliens exist

Do they slaughter their children like this?

Before they even begin to develop the eyes that might have perceived the world?

Do they Corral the old?

Starve the hungry?

And call themselves civilized?

And if so, why do we call them aliens

And not reflections?

Maybe the sun is a mirror

Spitting back realities so harsh

That it blinds anyone

Who stares directly in its direction?

And maybe stars are prayers sprouting out  of the deepest darkness

Which had to go somewhere

And so the sky was the most likely candidate

Surely your ears can handle it

If our stomachs can digest

Life becoming nothing like this

I mean, its just trash

Aborted before it ever became a mission

A poet

A video girl who shakes ass

Don’t sweat me, cause Like labor pains and afterbirth

This poem too shall pass

And you won’t have to name it

Claim it, feed it or maintain it

It will abort itself in approximately six seconds

Because foreign words and aliens thoughts rarely last

I mean, it’s just trash…