Entitled...

This bed I made, so I lay, but still I fight

‘Cause the outcome, I swear it isn’t right

I mean I deserve the help mate that God intended to carry some of this weight

A single parent not by choice but by choosen

For now I know exactly what it means to Wait

‘Cause instead I just lay awake

Trying to figure out how I will make ends meet for me and my seed

The child that he and I created, yet he is a negative sign in this equation

While I equals everything where I do all of the work

Yes the mom, not the dad, but head of my household where I have total control

Control doesn’t equal ease, or increase the peace

For control means I carry 100% responsibility

 For the life I created, as it seems, but I was a we when he fertilized my seed Accountability, something he knows nothing about as he comes in and out the revolving doors

Of my impressionable son’s little world 

Every other weekend

You mean to tell me those 4 days a month multiplied times 12 of those in a fiscal year

Divided by 365 days of a calendar year, are enough for him to call his self a father figure?

Cause the calculator tells me otherwise,

I beg to differ, that equals him apart of his life only 13% of the time

To me, a part time father, that doesn’t even classify

Hell, that don’t even equate a half ass individual

Who do you think you are if you can’t take care of God’s gift to you?

I am completely aware my life is no longer mine

Conscientious that my son deserves not some but all of my time

Him, on the other hand, accounts for no liability

No financial contribution, just an occasional babysitting

No discipline involved

No need to make sure he’s up on time and has brushed his teeth for school

Just movie  night Fridays and lounging around

No well balanced diets, just sweets and the junk food he knows I won’t allow

No making sure he gets to sports practices on time

He hasn’t been to even 1 game at all any time

No doctor’s appointments to make sure he’s well

Nor parent teacher conference to find out why our son’s at school raising hell

Just 46 hours of accompaniment

Catching up on two weeks’ worth of the kid’s life events

No frustrations of him rebelling from when he should be listening

Just pure leisure activity, the ode to the joys of parenting

As I am my sons only attendant

His manager and most importantly I function as his only parent

I teach him to tie his shoes

And it is I who will teach him multiplication by twos

I attend all the sports games and matches

And I, his number one fan will be watching when scores his first Basket

Responsibility, accountability and most importantly the love of a mother

The need to ensure and be there as he succeeds

For my child born of my flesh, not an option but my priority

For he takes precedence over everything.

Not only because God gave me that charge over his life

But how could I not want to give him all he’s deserving?

The seed I carried for 9 plus months, of my flesh and of my bone

All I can give is my unconditional love, nothing less to him

And I will ensure my prince does indeed become a King

So I fight, I will never give up my right

To share the responsibility of raising my child

So that he will become a real man

And not repeat the same unfortunate cards he has been given

I fight, and I will wait, I will wait on God

Wait on God to fulfill my sons absent need

To have a father figure to be there in Totality

Not part time, not fulltime

But Overtime All of the time

Like this...

I love you is an action of my heart

Cause expression of my words, I don’t know where to start

Oh yeah wait?? Yes I do

I’ll start by saying that I adore you,

You are a positive thought in the midst of the worlds calamity

You are the calm in the eye of a storm of chaos to me

You are the peak of the sun, from behind the clouds in the midst of rain

You are that spark of contentment in the midst of life’s unfortunate pain

I could call you my full Moon cause behind you, sunrays always shine through!

They make you glow. You are the only radiance in a dark room

You are the definition of vivacity

My best friend, my companion, my confidant

You my love are a beautiful Blessing.

Ode to the Recession (2010)

Dependent on The Man

There are times when I believe

Money is the only object keeping me from who I need to be

If you add this, subtract that, and then divide

If I only had this much more money in my life

Then God, I promise you everything would be alright

I’m talking my life would be just fine

So with money continually on my mind

Contemplating figures that would allow me to accomplish my aspirations

Constantly making my finances a mathematical equation

I mean from how I’m going to obtain it

How to plan my money arrangement

To how I’m not going to spend it

But simultaneously take care of all my business

Including my requirements, plus my desires

Exercising brain cells I never even knew existed

Just to reach humanity’s misconstrue o f what success it

But wait?

How can I prepare to achieve a decent salary

During economical recession where a Bachelor’s is no longer a credible degree?

My current job isn’t even considering me for a raise

I do great work but their excuse is they can’t afford the pay

I would take into account going back to get my PHD

But how could I afford the loans if nobody now wants to pay me?

Assistance for Grad school, hell, its non existent

Oh, so this is how they intend to keep you in the system

The circle of trust keeps you dependant on the man

Which forces you to stay in a bracket of sociological extortion

No more, no less, just enough to keep you eating out man’s hand

Stagnancy at its best

So even the man with the plan is still dependant on the man

Economical repression, financial congestion

The man the lender, us always the borrowers

A permanent place of pecuniary restriction

Keeping a hindrance on all financial advancement

To them we will always owe, and that’s how they keep us locked in the system

A kind of barter arrangement keeping us financially oppressed

Work now paid later

The catch is you never seem to get paid at all

Start below the bottom just to make it to the top

And the top is not really the top where meritocracy is where they expect us  to stop

Unfortunately, we’re fastened into this circle of trust

Lacking trust at all, just working hard dependant on a man

Functioning methodically just too barely make a change

Will I be forever stuck palm out, open hand?

Stop. Think….God reveals the answer is no!

In God I will trust, my financial blessings will be so!

…………Trust no man, TRUST GOD!

Melody

I write my song, but it’s always wrong

I right my wrongs, yet I’m always wrong

When I know that I’m right

Should I just give up this fight?

Cause every time I begin to take flight

I look back…

See there, pops on this check engine light

Caution, Indication

That my level of motivation

Far exceeds my speed of elevation

Soon falling short of my “self” expectations

Selfish thoughts on views of my progression

No, I’m not exactly where I want to be

Pounding the pavement,

Question, should I be doing something different?

Cause they say that doing the same thing

Expecting different results is the definition of insanity

Am I losing my umph?

Total lack of interest in what it takes to make life work

Cause every equation I’ve tried just equals hurt

Disappointment

Frustrations temporarily filled in with addictions like an ointment

I’m sick, distracted and possessed, somebody make me an appointment

My disease is called success.

I cannot and will not settle

Said I will not settle for less

See I need it more than I want it, but I want it more than I need it

Necessarily imperative like the deceased to embalming fluid

Fatal attraction

I just want to work til I’m gone, I’ll just sleep when I’m dead

Write my song until every utter and complete thought is gone from inside my head

Every single part of my anatomy weak

From tenacious exertion, for all I’ll have left is my speech.

If that.

Write my song until all resilience has relinquished my body

As God plucks me up and I give up my ghost

I just pray death doesn’t come first

Until all my Stars align

Until my sun’s burnt out so much so that my moon, it shines

Til the creator and my maker are satisfied with my Greatness

At that pivotal moment, just then, I’ll consider it Success…

So I vow to write my song

Right my wrongs until they are a harmonious melody

Where the drum matches the beat

And the beat matches the pace of the moving of my feet

Progressing as one punctual entity

Arriving right on time to my destiny.

Perfect Melody

Elevation

The methology to my stimulation

Begins with intense concentration

My psyche goes on vacation

In my brain, there’s penetration

Committed contemplation

In depth, coagulation

Of conflagration

Fiery Inspiration

Causing activation

Sparked by mental aggravation

Sometimes observation

Or some physical altercation

So I execute capitalization

To solve an equation

Resulting in a separation

A supernatural circumcision

Producing an abundance of words of wisdom

Still there are accusations

That my words may cause abrasion

But once you experience deviation

From your optical aberration

You’re bound to encounter elation

The outcome is idyllic liberation

See, this is my aspiration

So I apply strong dedication

And toil at my choice vocation

To make it my obligation

To perfect my occupation

This is my motivation

For my thoughts to achieve assimilation

To perform lyrical operation

To share with the congregation

There is an affiliation

Between my words and their situation

If you listen for the association

You will receive spiritual mobilization

To reach your God given destination

Things that result in personal Elevation

This is why none can touch my classification

I hunger to bring people clarification

The name I call myself is Poetic Persuasion

If you have never heard me perform this outloud, you just might not understand the power behind this ;)

Raped Her Soul (Part I)

So I shed tears for the girl I use to be

Enslaved, captive of her hearts misery

What he said was love, wasn’t love at all

In fact, he’d just break her down so she couldn’t stand tall

Forget her self-worth, for that didn’t exist at all

‘Cause her he’d have convinced this is the end all of all

Her soul beaten, trodden down, he raped her

Until her sweet little spirit had escaped her

First her body cause she was never in the mood

So he’d beg until she said ok, fine

Else she knew he’d have a wicked attitude

One day he’d attempt to make her feel like a queen

The next, reality reminded her like waking up from a dream

When re-surfaced his repulsive bi-polar tendencies

As he made her feel worthless, not deserving of anything

He had her persuaded, and her clear vision was now badly tainted

Her self-respect was stolen by this bandit

So self-love non-existent as every moral fiber in her helpless body was jaded

His words, they’d pierce her soul

Derogatory, offensive expression

On her, he’d take out all of his aggression

Until her heart was no longer whole

But spirit trampled until removed was all of her essence

Her character defeated, ‘til she had nothing left in

Accept for the bruising she had acquired from him grabbing

And scratching her face, then roughing her around a bit

Nothing left, not even a cry for help

Cause as he choked her, he impeded her vocal reverberation

Then she took her last breathe…

This is part of my story. At first I was embarrassed, but now I aspire to Inspire and maybe someone will be encouraged by me sharing through my words. I could go on and on but I will share more in upcoming poetry and blog posts.

Abusive relationships are more common than you may think. All it takes is one occurence and even one time IS NOT OK. If you or someone you know are a victim of an abusive relationship, please call National Domestic Violence Hotline 1−800−799−SAFE(7233). You can remain anonymous.

Way with words...

A pen to a pad or my fingers stroking the keys

On this board that happens to be connected to a pc

I delve into my thoughts, mind's eye without boundary

Tapping into my essence minus periphery

These syllables you hear stream from my cerebral

At times get so intense I can’t even grasp where they stem from

Oh and please don’t confuse my phonetic rhythm with simplicity

Words never feeble, strength without the timing or pronunciation similarity

Thoughts will always meet logic no matter what template is followed

It’s just merely based on the fact if you can understand my math

Yes, I am completely aware I said my math

For my psyche is complexly a bunch of mathematical equations

For my thoughts come out hard just like trigonometry plus calculus

Arithmetic. Difficult to comprehend at first, but with much practice

At some point, it starts to make sense; you will begin to grasp it.

Hence keep listening, it’s intense, make sure you keep up

Powerful word spit, like its word vomit so I think I’ll just call it

Word sick ………Yes pun intended

Lyrically potent, “they say the nation needs me

Cause my words are heavily effective and extremely impacting “

I’m flattered, yet humbly I will embrace my calling

Wondering how I handle poetic flow so intoxicating?

Why the hell you think they call me Poetic Persuasion