Crossing the Stage

My best friend was supposed to walk the stage in a couple of weeks. A friend of mine were planning to visit him, and watch him ascend to the glory of black education. He was supposed to receive his masters degree from Cornell University, shake hands with the president and wave to the crowd with

Loaded bases

Loaded bases- Loaded bases that’s my motivationSwinging for the fences no hesitationTryna free my people from this desperationAnd show these niggas some new imaginationSo I step to the mound without resignationAnd claim my place in history as the greatest playingNo room for doubt gotta get my homies to safetyForget the clout ain’t got time for

Distance between

The distance between my dreams and I closes in every single moment I close my eyes and believe they are real. As I appeal to my desires through my sheer will I come closer to sealing the gap that keeps me from experiencing all the glee I have dreamt of The distance between my dreams

A Briefcase of Sedation

A briefcase of sedation Filled with peace seducing remedies Tools that diffuse the bomb of anxiety Stimulating me in ways that Allow me to breath and be at ease A briefcase of sedation Cooling my burning heart Soothing my brain Claims the pain that drains The world in my head That consistently goes insane A

Distant star

Taking the moments to appreciate how far I came, understanding I’m nowhere where I want to be, Everyday I wake up and appreciate another moment to get up and get it done But I am, Right where I need to be. Breathing steadily as I meditate and prepare for another day to make my name The WNBA just drafted the young girls that unfortunately perished in the helicopter crash on January 26th 2020. My heart goes out to those girls, the families that perished as well. May the screech sneaker up above in peace

A carnival of jesters

A carnival of jesters prance around a room Posing as Kings council members And people that believe they know what’s best for you Instead they fill their pockets with green, gold And laugh in greed, As they steal from the proletariat, The working poor that keep their buildings Lit up Oh how many clowns does