I’ve got some issues in my psyche and me losing my mind is likely.
I’m Full of good intentions but I always do the wrong thing although I share birthday with Spike Lee.
It’s highly likely that me being normal couldn’t be anything from the farthest.
Because as good as it gets, I’ll always be a troubled artist regardless.
And one day I’ll become accustomed to the culture of the fatherless fathers doing the utmost for our sons and our daughters.
Correcting the sins of our fathers because they couldn’t finish what they started.
No more innocence.
I was taught by some militants.
Light skin but no pretty boy, this is the crooked teeth poet that talks with so much sibilance.
And I’m so bored of my ambiance.
So listen mother, unlike Mr Jean, I’ll be gone.
Just let me finish my next semester.
So I can alleviate some pressure and I don’t even want to do what I learn.
I just want to live like Robert Nesta.
To tell you the truth, there’s no real message in this writing.
I’m just sharing where my mind goes when there’s a little dim lighting.
But I won’t take it too deep, just know there’s some issues that I’m fighting.
And inside I’m crying because this is ridiculously honest.
I miss the feeling of being lonely, give me a chance and I’ll sit alone in any forest.
I never thought I would need help from any doctor or nurse.
But I probably do seeing as I wrote this on the night of my 21st.
I was thinking about my future, my present and my fears that I’ve developed over the years.
And my biggest fear is money.
For that to be a fear is quite funny as it’s true that we all want a sizable amount to our name.
But when I do get money, will I ever write the same?
Will I ever get consumed and just forever chase the fame?
We pretend it’s just paper but money changes everything and money replaces stress.
Why else would Van Dam be making snow angels and Usain Bolt be in a dress?
I was just writing as free as I have ever wrote before and I thought.
This world was never made for comfort.
This world was never made for safety.
This world was never made to be a friend to the needy.
This world was never made to put clothes on your back and food on your table.
This world was never made to be a giving place.
This world was never made to be heaven, nirvana or any other sort of paradise.
But this world was made to test you and shake you.
Slap you up, twist you up, trip you up and break you.
But when you conquer the army that’s waiting for you at birth, then the world will never forsake you.
When you fulfil your purpose and spill your blood for what you believe in, then the world will never forget you.
Is it really that hard to write history?
Will my generation ever take advice if it isn’t delivered lyrically?
I hope you see me as a young refugee because these words are so sweet but I swear they’re softly killing me.
And it’s bittersweet how it’s finally getting through to me, I’m just realising now that I’m holding sone responsibility.
I’m normally surrounded by some ugly Gentiles and pretty sinners.
Pure evil and corrupt good can be confusing to beginners.
But it’s been my life for so long that I see righteous and ungodliness are slowly becoming synonymous.
And it eminent for me to mention it in my element without making it too obvious.
But obviously it’s plain to see what’s really real to me.
With this gift I can do anything you see but when it’s personal, it’s like a therapy for me.
Normally, I try to uplift, try to make you think and help you make sense.
So I stab my heart for an art that’s never paid me a pence.
Forget the rover, big house and tall fence.
I do this to push the boundaries of this culture.
Hoping that the youth hear me and dream a little bolder.
I’ve been meaning to call my father since January.
To kick start a communication with my old man so we can start being merry.
But I think it’s very scary to open up and let near me.
I’ll tell him what I’m up to like “yeah I’m at uni, I hope I don’t blow it. And oh yeah I’m poet and U.O.E.N.O it.
And to you tell you the truth, I’m not sure if I actually need you but if I do, I’m never going to show it.”
I found out I have a 4 year old sister recently.
I know my mum won’t like this one.
Another uncomfortable peice from her bastard son.
Saying whatever he feels with that bastard tongue.
She tells me to be careful or might get stung.
I hope she’s wrong.