Midnight Letter

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(Editors Note: I know it’s been a while since I’ve posted.  I am working on things I would like you to pay for, and I can’t do that by giving away content for free. 

Secondly, this poem is meant for poets, but I had other walks of life in mind, as well.  Apply where necessary.)

If you’re afraid to write something
Then you know it’ll be one of your best.
Nothing great is birthed by constant comfort
You are you.

That pull in your torso is what your soul feels like when it’s vulnerable
The ideas inside you have recognized their power
And are tugging at the barriers you allow fear and perfectionism to construct
Margins are only for paper
You’ve been writing along the walls of your ribs for so long
Your lungs exhale inspiration

Don’t say you don’t know what to say
Say my best is on its way
Breathing doubt onto your slate clouds your view of your words
Your creativity will look poisonous
And not like the life breath needed for the seeds in your cropped garden to grow.

I say this to say
To you
To us

Shut the fuck up and write.

#DidYouWriteToday? – 420

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I received an email:

“I tried on your last name today.
It dangled like hoop earrings.
The wind wanted to carry it away
But it just made me more noisy in my travels.

It hurt
Just a slight pinch
It hurt
Like love
Trying not to focus on the pain doesn’t ease the anticipation
Looking at forever
Didn’t make today sting any less
I just want you to know
I went through with it.”

I read this, thinking,
Is that why the email before this says
“I don’t need you”?
I must have been another hole in her head.

#DidYouWriteToday? – 418: When The Poem You Wrote Is Lovely, But Isn’t The One You Need To Write, Volume 91

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Perfect
Now, do it again.
Perfection isn’t achieved after one flawless attempt
Perfection is repetition until flaws are impossible

So where does that leave me?
One who writes with blemishes
Blot by blot until sanity becomes a matter of perspective

This mosaic feels like a simple stain.
My likeness splattered against reflective glass
My self on display
But not quite me
This is what it’s like when humans do godly things.

#DidYouWriteToday? 411: When The Poem You Wrote is Lovely, But Isn’t The One You Need To Write, Volume 72

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There’s a lump in my esophagus
That starts at the stomach
Rises to my throat
Then back
A story arch of regurgitated fear
That has more sequels that John McClain

You know what they say about old habits
And this one has returned with a vengeance
Just when I think I can get rid of it
The sickness reappears

That poem is this poem’s medicine
Temporary oppressor of symptoms
But never a more potent cure than what’s already divinely inside me
But yet here I am
Feeling fine
Feeling better

I took something
Disregarding the label
Warning: contents will cause:
Inflation of ego
False sense of security
Depression
Emptiness
Temporary sigh of relief
Shortness of breath

The list of side effects is longer than the poem
And I wonder
Why didn’t I just write this earlier?

#DidYouWriteToday? 401: Prince Ali or However It Goes

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I’m a weary traveller
Dragging my footsteps across burning sand
To tell the tale of a man
Yearning to be royalty
Not to get the girl
Because the girls come whether prince or street rat

My footprints leave faint trails of blood
While trying to decipher if the oasis is created through the mirage of my tears
It’s nearly impossible to determine what’s real
But this hajj is mine and mine alone

This is not some Disney story
This is a whole new world
Where one song isn’t enough to ease fear
The carpet I sit on takes me places I could never see by myself
Realms worthy of taking my last breath
But duets in my head harmonize between closing my eyes due to fright
And ordering me to take in every sight

This is a new, fantastic point of view.
Where I am the genie
All the power of the cosmos
Itty bitty living space
I rub my temples like lamp
Wishing that I haven’t used my last wish yet
Journeying through sandstorms to a Cave of Wonders
Trying to trap me inside once I touch any of the treasures
That’s some security plan for that which is mine
In searching for myself
I’ve protected myself from discovery for so long
I can’t recognize who I am
Or who I need to be.

#WriteFree365 – Day 365: Liberation

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(We’ve reached the end.  One year of writing every day of 2014.  I still don’t quite understand all the feelings I have, but I’m glad I did it.  I’m glad I stayed committed.  Day 365…)

I sacrifice every breath I breathe.  To make you believe, I’ll give my life away…

I just want to be free.
Prison is bigger than these bars
This is a work release program
Where freedom isn’t free
The price of my soul is well worth it.

Freedom is no longer viewing life as a sentence
Living extends well beyond ending punctuation
And I don’t need to place unnecessary commas
Life runs on
And who knows where it stops

So I write until I can’t
Take my life and create as many sentences as I can
Because I’ll die behind these bars
And I want enough evidence in my permanent record to justify giving my life to the pen.

Just because you’re not an inmate number doesn’t mean you’re free
And just because you see me shackled inside four walls doesn’t mean my life is no longer mine

#WriteFree365 – Day 361: Web

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(Whenever I perform, Black Thought is whose style I emulate.  Calm, yet commanding.  Not boisterous, but there is a presence.  Day 361…)

Until I touch the mic, y’all people ain’t seen danger yet…

I’m a superhero
One random day
I was bitten by a bug that forever enhanced my life

As clumsy as I am
And as smart as I think I am
Growing into this superhuman ability takes time
I’m still learning all I can do

But this fabric I weave
So intricate from simplicity
One line at a time
Allows me to traverse life
I don’t need to leap tall buildings
That dude is an alien
And I’d rather be closer to the people I’m trying to save.

Tingling senses that let me know someone is in danger
A line of mine travels and spreads to catch them from doom.
I don’t need thanks
This is a blessing
Just another day for your friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man

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