Posts tagged ‘poet’

That’s Some Selfish Shit.

I told him I was lacking inspiration. I had nothing to write about even though I had everything to write about.  Nothing in my mind was good enough to be put on paper because I wasn’t satisfied with my life.  I was unsettled and ungrateful.  Here I was overlooking the beautiful transformation that I asked my creator for because it wasn’t wrapped in a pretty package.  I was taking my own life for granted because it wasn’t bestowed on me in the way that I ordered it. And if it were given to me in that manner I wouldn’t be living it at all…I’d still be taking it for granted.  My inspiration is my hardship and in the bellow of everything that I don’t understand right away.

I looked myself in the mirror trying to figure out what in the hell am I supposed to be doing? Writing pissed me off, not writing pissed me off, people pissed me off, and I pissed me off for being pissed off in the 1st place.  I was annoyed with life because I was annoyed with me for not knowing what to do.  The woman with all the answers for everyone else couldn’t find one answer for herself.  Indecisive. Undecided because no answer was good enough for me so doing nothing seemed like the easiest thing to do…which worked out to be most spiritually fatal… doing nothing.  That’s some selfish shit. Forgetting myself because I didn’t know what to do with myself lol and in turn I was making myself miserable.  Change requires a whole lot of soul searching and self realization.  It requires facing the facts…aka facing the truth.

Inspiration is in everything…it’s in the melody of my 7am alarm entitled, “Live Life Cherokee!” It’s within the awkward silence of a much needed conversation between two strangers, within the hazy fog of weed smoke exhaled by a tight knit of homies on a Sunday morning, within a shrilling cry for help to the creator for deliverance, within the 6th bar of the 2nd verse to a song with no chorus, within the front row of a rowdy crowd in a rundown club with no liquor license lol, within a mother’s prayer, a father’s neglect, a friend’s lack of loyalty, within a new flame, within a distant memory… It’s everywhere. 🙂

~The Lyricist

#TRIBE

“It’s True…”

Earlier today I was sitting in solitude with my thoughts trying to come up with a new venture to monetize…while trying to come up with the ideas for the matter, I started thinking about what the money would solve. I thought about my life and how as little as $5,000 would make it better…I thought about my mama and how I’d help her and how we’d humbly laugh while basking in our sudden yet simple change of fate, even though the amount was so small. I started to write a couple bars on a new joint that I’d plan to call, “It’s True…” ‘Money ain’t the object of my affection/ sure would smooth my complexion/ cool brown girl smilin’ stylin’ even tho I’m wild’n/ everything I’m buying/ mama ain’t crying, kings still lying tryna comply and/ show affection and attention for little things to da lil boo/ It’s True, happiness can be bought too…” I tried to think about every and anybody who mattered to me & what I’d do for them…or not. There wasn’t much folks that came to mind…my memory is fucked any damn way so that didn’t help at all, but for the most part the list was short.

I love her to pieces... #TRIBE

I love her to pieces… #TRIBE

When I got home, I started digging through a box of old items looking for an item that I believed would help me in my newest venture…I won’t go into detail on what the item was to reserve the integrity & exclusivity of the new project, but I found something else…3 watches.  I sat on the floor in my closet for about 20 minutes looking at each watch as if to be stuck in a deep trance…one that tied me to the significance of these items.  My eyes welled with tears because there’s so many beautiful stories tied to my history that became distant artifacts in boxes that I may never find due to taking time for granted.  I sat there thinking about my ol’ girl…and how she loved me unconditionally…how she loved me when I was rebellious…how she defended me…how she cared for me…how she made sacrifices for me…the central headquarters of my unconditional love.  No matter what we were going through when I was a child, my happiness always came first to my mama…and now I sat there looking at the 3 watches…3 reminders…past, present, & future…A frigid reminder that I gotta keep trying to become a better person…my ol’ girl ain’t the same lady she was 16 years ago when she bought the 1st watch for me…she was younger…more durable, and quick…with time she aged like fine wine and reminds me of my late grandmother everyday. I teared up because she looks to me now the way I looked to her 16 years ago…and I know with everything that I’m trying to accomplish in my life right now, it makes me a bit short and impatient…even in the midst of promoting love and light…patience & virtue…I’m not patient enough with her…and it hurt me. Damn, I’m trying to change for the better…dealing with my ol’ girl humbles me…I apologize more now…I let things go quicker now…I forgive those who hurt me, I love those who hate me, because this is all that I welcome in my spirit…it feels good…and it’s helping me to become a better person.

It’s True…three watches conjured enough memories from my past, to remind me not to take my present for granted because the future is not promised… *smiles to self*  

~The Lyricist  

#TRIBE 

Cherokee The Lyricist

Cherokee The Lyricist

The Black Halo That Hovers Me…

I’m at war with myself.  The things that I expect of me are so formidable and sometimes I don’t give myself a chance to accomplish these things. I take on so much.  I’m so emotional and it took me a while to understand what that really meant and to come to terms with being this way.  I don’t like labels because they keep you in a box that most would draw biased conclusions on before really understanding what makes the items in this box so unique.  What makes me different? I don’t believe that real people wake up in the morning and ask themselves, “How can I be different today?” That’s bogus.  I believe that real people follow their 1st mind…their intuition..their gut…and live on their terms..not on terms predetermined by a book they’ve read..or by what someone said the terms are supposed to be in order to be…different; They just are.  When you make an impact, I don’t believe this is something you can plan…it just kinda happens. The most tragic or beautiful accidents are due to impromptu impact aren’t they not?

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I always sit and wonder about people and the way that they think.  I asked myself several times, does the rest of the world think like me? Does the rest of the world give themselves a hard time the way that I do? Do they hurt when someone they barely know is in pain? Do they want to be heard? Do they struggle with trying to uphold their purpose? And if I know what my purpose is, why is it a struggle? Shouldn’t I struggle with the things that I’m unfamiliar with? Of course not.  It’s usually the familiar things..like family & friends that make the struggle harder.  What I don’t know will hurt me…and what I do know already has.  Where do I go from here? Does the rest of the world think like this? Why the FUCK do I think so much? I have a responsibility and that’s to live the life that I’m given but sometimes it gets so hard…to the point where I myself lose touch with the whole damn point.  I suppose I’m just supposed to know.  I have a big heart…a big forgiving heart at that…I’ll do for the next before I’ll do for myself..I won’t change that.  I just wish sometimes that I can get a little help. I just wish sometimes that people would fight for me, the way that I fight for them..I hurt too. I just don’t talk about it because I hate that vulnerable feeling. I don’t want them to see me cry…I don’t want them to try to hug me and tell me everything is going to be okay…I don’t want them to think to themselves that they have to be there for me because they are my friend.  I know how I think, I know how genuine I am. I know that every move within the second of a minute is a personal decision to decide between doing good and doing evil.  I choose to do good..not because I have to, but because it just feels so much better.  I don’t want them to be there for me because they decided to do good for selfish reasons..because they had to I just can’t seem to give people that opportunity.  I’ve been hurt so much.  I live a very lonely life because of this…this is not a cry for help, this is how I maintain.  This is how I think…this is MY STRUGGLE…the pictures that I paint don’t all have daisies and sunshine in em. I got issues like everybody else. I just wish I understood why I process things the way that I do.  A part of me knows the answers to all of my questions…as the other part seems to like posing questions to confirmed answers to hurt me. I’m at war with myself. This is my scarlet letter, the Black Halo that hovers over me…my good verses evil… Black Halo…The Mixtape… July 20th

~The Lyricist

Watch “Rack City Remix CHEROKEE THE LYRICIST” on YouTube

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