What Have I Been Up to?

I came to DC to help me write book one.
I’m also a cocky poet.
The world of mine last year didn’t know it.
Neither did I.
But I just show it.
Because it’s easier to deny it.
Anyone can write words.
With verbs.
To obscure a world.
From words beginning within a book.
Now I’m talking faster than my world can look.
I’m also writing a book.
Let me keep bragging.
You’ll get it.
DC was dope.
I had a long run in the cold.
And saw many others who were bold.
So, how could I make this cold run worth it?
Aside from the picture with a dope filter.
And because of the government shutdown shit,
The museums were closed.
I didn’t get to see a museum like I had hoped.
I’m that boring history nerd.
The guy who doesn’t ignore your history.
Because I know it’s distrustful.
You’ll later look at me disrespectful.
I’ll be assumed regretful.
Thinking later how I could better the ignorant.
I didn’t mean it disrespectfully.
Maybe you couldn’t read me.
Maybe I misread me.
But at this point would you believe me?
I know the odds be against me.
Head down because the watcher see’s me.
Against all odds.
But from above the watcher believes me.
There the reason I can watch from above.
Easily breathing.
Running up hilltops.
Foot often twisted off rocks.
The trail runs were for the movie funds.
How could I deliver one without Hollywood type funds?
Or the attention of the money convention.
Just run a trail and declare you’re the best.
Running up to Portland’s glory view, meant something good for you.
No better than those who are not looking at you.
Not the failing few.
But the unfollowing few.
They’ll never notice you.
But latch onto you.
Realizing their eyes on you.
Is a painful view.
Because they feel the watcher’s over you.
And nothing can tell in plain sight or view.
We live for the watcher’s view.
An oval shaped, triangular view.
Often confused with Dekum’s blue.
The new hue written for inspiring you.
Thus, should not confuse you.
But maybe an abstract part two.
I became a poet and now you all know it.
To be honest this is my home.
This is my only way.
I’ve made it years from a migraine lifestyle.
To dreams of blue.
No more assuming.
That’s for the failing fool.
Maybe a generational tool.
To keep the attention off you.
But only a few will know it.
Baselines will later grow it.
It was made for them.
The others understand.
They overstand.
This is their only way.
Portland, Oregon ladies and gentlemen.
I flew to DC to fix racism.
But they would not have believed it until I wrote it.
I ran a pentagram.
Originally surveyed by the Banneker man.
Lost history is infatuating man.
I’m a poet and now you know it.
I’ll never write the same poem twice.
I will never seek the same dollars’ price.
What it’s worth is never a curse.
But a gift at it’s worse.
Waiting to exhale back into its curse.
Remember?
Often later at it’s worse.
It’s like a respectful attraction at first.
Making you comfortable in the first meeting.
Easy on the eye greeting.
Deceitful green eyes exceeding.
With later fangs breathing.
Wait until I publish my fantasy’s synopsis reading.
One for the black people’s seeing.
But I wont care after they dare.
To recreate it.
Elated.
For once.
We can break it.
Light as a feather.
In Portland we get confused by the weather.
The seasons are often the reason.
We can predict the conversation peaking.
Is it rain?
Is it snow?
We often, however, do not know.
Some at New Season’s know best.
But the other’s just don’t care.
Like me, they spend the evenings doing something unaware.
Of the large stress.
We think is OK.
But until we fall.
We want eyes on us.
From those we trust.
From those we must.
And for what it’s worth.
Do what your gut is saying.
Even if it mean’s stop praying.
And just show up.
To success.
Because it wont matter.
The watcher’s in the middle.
Like a bladder.
Head up, feet down.
In between.
You must define your crown.
Or it could be defined by your hometown.
Social Media clown.
Because all they see is your frown.
The victim who quit them.
The one who said it’s too hard.
Playing the race card.
With history’s regard.
We all slaved hard.
Like the Jewish did.
Later the Africans did it.
To their own people.
You gotta read history to believe it.
Otherwise you’re deceiving.
Like the black man who writes.
The black man who fights.
A black man writing referring to his BMW.
It’s black with a hint of Dekums blue.
Driving to inspire you.
Yet, what’s the last order?
For what’s the last game’s quarter?
Ever got tired?
Yet it’s only the first quarter?
But who cares?
Life’s not fair.
So, here’s to despair.
Because your class, we cannot fix.
Because your history is often what you omit.
Failing to think.
And to others you submit.
I’m not done yet.
I went to DC to write this poem.
The longest one.
And I went at it alone.
Like publishing plan.
Publishing alone.
Getting trendy?
Letting my money sit.
By vanity, people assume I have it.
But only the aviator impersonates it.
Assuming he knows the clouds.
I can promise you, he’s never seen those clouds.
Just one that looks like those white cotton piles.
Sitting across the sky looking comfy.
Dekum’s blue, setting the background.
As earth runs around.
Who read this far?
I have so many more words.
Secrets are all in the books.
The libraries.
Where I pretended to read books.
And education.
Don’t let me get started on that vacation.
Because people are ignorant.
Even those who ignore the people’s education.
Your education.
That you put above others.
Like what they told is ignorant utters.
This is the one-thousand-word line.
I thank you for your time.
If you keep reading.
You’re in for a poem of a lifetime.
Successful despite private cries.
A former work employee once held me cry.
When he died.
My dad.
Now living in Zion.
The marker.
Zion has one more darker.
The bourgeois negro.
Unstoppable hero.
Sub Zero.
I travel the world.
Telling the homeless only their kids will be world heros.
Thriving legacies.
Starting from heaving failing trajectories.
Now a lyrically mystical individual.
I don’t care.
Again I play on planes.
I flew to DC to help me write book one.
Stopped in New York to run the city’s waterfront.
But I won’t front.
It was cold.
My run’s story here is told.
I’m going for a 7000-word poem.
Write it once and never read it again.
That’s my risk with being misread.
Because people prefer gut feelings instead,
Ignoring it’s just wordplay and verbs.
The number of people I trust.
Is in the coding of reader’s if I must.
Threescore for your type of bore.
Not a Christian man’s score.
Thinking only one way.
As his way bore.
In respect to others.
It’s good for the others.
Because why create?
If you don’t feel real people will be elated.
That’s the word.
The entire world’s verb.
Like whosoever heard.
The everlasting poem’s term.
Meaning all my secrets.
Suicidal is not a regret.
Just life’s timeless touching prep.
For me, elated after each blessed breathe.
But whosoever said so.
Will tell whosoever wrote so.
As everchanging is what we accept.
Until the world shows us what we regret.
Forgetting the tyranny.
A Russian’s bribery.
It’s written in history.
His story.
Oh good glory.
I’ll write a story that God sent me.
No, I don’t believe in God.
I just believe I’m here to fuck with expectations.
With God on my side.
Preparation.
I’ll take the golden daughter.
I was born a watcher.
Born a black man with out a demand.
Just watch her.
Later put it in my book.
Later if they understand.
A black man will have fixed racism.
Assuming you said that right.
You rhymed it.
The feature photo’s filter is dope.
Did I repeat myself?
I cannot help it.
Let me tell you how long I’ve came.
Creating a time of fame.
Like the trailblazer Dame.
From a concrete floor I’ll tell you more.
Sick and exhausted from America’s bore.
“are you an athlete?”
No, just America’s whore.
Attempting success.
Amongst the white man’s test.
Let me make this clear.
Education is what I expected to be here.
Not some worldly loan.
I gave into that.
But only for the respect of frats.
But let me again clarify that.
I was watching them party with glory.
With friends of the neighboring sorority.
Again, let me clarify.
I loved school.
The cocky poet would suggest it for the lonely fool.
For why the kids want a status?
Like I, want an apparatus.
Calculating dimensions, I see the world in.
A basketball player’s world may depend.
Winning first quarter.
All from within.
Later then lose it.
Who would have been amused from it?
I don’t quit.
I’m ended at the 7000-word count.
What word will end it?
Don’t guess it.
Don’t you dare scroll down.
Ignoring my thoughts from without a crown.
Meeting of the minds I explained it.
Listen up.
My childhood was different.
And I cannot explain it.
The longest poem you could ever read.
This is my thinking if you can perceive.
The watcher but then I recede.
I am not what you think.
The unstoppable kid.
Writing poems to get rid.
Of society’s variety.
Of the popular image of me.
The brother whom will get shot looking like me.
I speak meaning.
Yet what is it to me?
I am writing the story that corrects racism.
So that people’s average thinking will erase the fascism.
The work is being done like Nike’s just doing it son!
I wear their gear for the appeal.
That I’m a real.
Runner…
Up council crest.
Because I dream I’m the best.
Let me now tell you so that I can forever put it to rest.
When I ran up Council Crest.
It was cold, and with all behold, a runner’s scold.
I vomited after that run.
Thinking that challenge would be fun.
I wrote about that run.
Poetry fun.
I’m Dekum’s blue’s son.
Born under the same sun.
That I wake up to.
So, what’s the ignorant run?
After my first suicidal fun.
Eugene was drunk.
The Oregon Duck championship run.
Later death would run,
Suicidal fun.
It’s wordplay don’t run.
It’s my neurotic side pun.
Heres to the inspiration.
And getting bored a tun.
Just writing and fighting delighted.
The man in the ring once Creed so he’s frightened.
Who moved in with Rocky?
I bet that man be cocky?
Who read thus far?
I bet you drive a nice car?
Or dream despite.
Did Amway teach you?
It’s way more for the enlightened.
I don’t want the eye.
Just the meaningful truth – you’ll notice me guy.
You are great if you try.
What together can we create if we try?
A dire need for a third Deed?
This is my history.
Being told in his story.
A rich man’s mystery.
Giving to groups.
Amway, dude.
Those dudes are blindly rude.
No, I won’t pay you to be free of a W2.
You see one way.
The global way.
But I respect that way.
Just the people were rude in an ignorant way.
Not realizing that respect goes both ways.
I don’t care to meet your millionaires.
I write about their developmental errors.
They would never know what they are reading.
Unless they can spell the air that they are breathing.
Thank you for reading.
I am not done yet.
Here is what the next 1000 words will read.
If you please.
Do not leave.
I’ll make it worth it.
So, DC was a fun trip.
But like I mentioned in the first five lines.
I didn’t get to visit museums due to the government shut down shit.
I ran passed the white house.
Thinking man, ya’ll protecting that house?
But I respect people in a way others won’t.
They might live down the street.
So, to be rude is a hypocritical oath.
DC was my longest run.
Since suicidal fun.
But I got bored writing this poem in my head.
Almost broke my foot.
Running the pentagram streets.
And I won’t repeat.
But the streets are awfully steep.
Meaning.
Banneker knew what he was surveying.
My history now stores this conveying mystery.
Yet I was traveling for history.
Meditation, and writing for creatives.
And my book.
What a great Hook.
The story will fix racism in a book.
But I must build it up so that people can relate to the story.
Believe the story.
Relive the story.
Understand the glory.
Pass on the worry.
What good story will fix racism Terrell?
My story?
Last year Dekum’s blue came home and true.
Drove past it.
No longer blue.
Moved to a hilltop’s foot.
To write all over you.
Not the fool.
But to give the tool.
Like 45.
Deceitful as a snack.
Preys on doves.
We respect it in a way we’d like to forget it.
But the eyes is where it lies.
He knows this guys.
Thus why.
He is ok with every lie.
They do not read.
They look interesting.
But just seek power.
Sex.
And rage.
Mirror your beast.
An equal eye.
Is how they will survive.
Keep writing.
I left six figures.
150K of them ago.
Not an athlete.
Creative indigo.
Living a dream.
And the goal is 7000.
Unstoppable dude.
You’ll think I’m rude.
No one reads me directly.
Misreading me, assuming incorrectly.
But I come correctly.
To fix something.
Like racism.
Did I mention that?
It was my childhood dream.
Only to live on to see nothing changing.
But to make that believable.
I’d have to do a few things in society.
Not for credibility.
Not for attention,
And fuck marketing.
Because y’all are buying my books.
Despite Amway getting into my way.
But hey, I actually learned a lot.
Thanks to my boi Zay.
But anyway.
Lately I’ve had to work hard.
And to prove it I just show up.
Don’t believe me?
Just watch.
Shout out to dame.
When my book done I’ll be courtside.
Watching rip city and Blaze.
Ran The DC streets and that shits a maze.
But I just showed up.
3 miles more than I could hold up.
That was a first.
Running more than I ever could.
Like that summer night in my adidas.
The concrete floor?
I wished God would.
You ignorant fool this is no cry for help.
Cognitive dissonance at its best.
Words putting you to the test.
I don’t care for a rivalry.
I ran up Counsil Crest.
To prove to me I’m the best.
I declared an animal at best.
The peak is where I put it to rest.
Now I watch from the nest.
Upward ever blessed.
What about the rest?
There’s a secret in line 7000.
Don’t scroll.
you’ll miss the secrets between now and then.
Where history’s written.
Then forgotten.
Rewritten and deleted often.
Resold for a quarter’s gold.
What’s the aim you were told?
You can never feel what history holds.
Because you were taught to ignore.
What history really unfolds.
But who cares.
Just buy my books.
Despite the evil.
I love you all.
Without you I’d fall.
The people is whom I do this for all.
Our ancestors told us to do this.
It’s set in our DNA to prove this.
In writing.
Whosoever knew the deed of a helix.
It’s nothing like an industrial prefix.
Of a persona.
Or meme.
To demean
In between.
I got around.
7000 remember.
I’m going to Brasil.
Likely gunna run up a hill.
Won’t need no phone.
Just nature and a will.
Maybe music.
Yeah, I’ll have my phone.
But don’t text me.
I hate my phone.
No I don’t hate it.
Because I need it.
Bet they want me now.
Got that bug boy crown.
Got away from the one that got around.
But I respect her
Its nothing for me to ball on a female.
But why?
I am faithful.
Oath of foe.
The fuck you do you fo’?
Oh yeah, you don’t know.
Just reading a fools poem.
But I do thank you.
It’s been a while since I inspired you.
When I’m done writing this I don’t know what I’m going to do.
Maybe writing longer lines will get me done better.
But I meant quicker.
Let me get meaningful.
I first remember falling off the tricycle at 2 years old.
Up 25th off Killingsworth.
Again, I rode bold.
Concrete is now what I scold.
On my foreheard.
My family remembers that.
Next maybe Annette.
Billy Black.
Vernon.
But Dekum.
Wanna hear a struggle?
I once wanted to kill myself over the daily negro’s bubble.
When I got back home, Dekum’s blue was no longer true.
A college tour to remember you.
Because the scars in the gut.
Next struggle.
High School’s rut.
I wanted to be tall and play basketball.
But My real confidence came from being smart after all.
Like I should’ve just went to Yale.
Because in the context of time.
A title was all I wanted to tell.
The people.
Because deep down I’m a writer.
A fighter.
Other memories include a Lewis, driving me to preschool.
In an old mini van
Dreaming of being home.
At Dekum’s blue.
Watching a movie.
HBO, Showtime, all the cable.
Dekum’s blue was the abode truth.
Why did I go to college?
Because I didn’t want the label of a black man without assumed knowledge.
But that is my predetermined knowledge.
You all could care less.
Let’s move on.
To Japan.
I am going again.
Then to Morroco
Greese.
The world will hear me speak.
3000.
My life, well.
I’ll see that well on a cell phone in the year 3000.
They told me I might make it there.
Just live everyday visiting there.
Others visit there.
But it’s not a place you explain.
Like in two sentences the story of Cane and Abel,
Is explained.
The bible.
My father called a sword.
Like a God-fearing man.
Looking for an eternal reward.
But who would have thought.
I live on the have a broader meaningful thought.
Not to preach the bible like he woulda thought.
So with gratitude I respect the religious attitude.
It brought me here.
But I respect everyone’s candor opinion.
But it will come with fear.
Because I may endear a tear.
Of hate for the man’s career.
Success.
I am blessed.
White people helped me.
They know who they are.
My PODCAST is going great.
When I was a child.
I dreamed a radio show in my basement.
That’s why we got the Stu’.
It’s for you.
The voice speaks out for you.
No offence to you.
But I will likely offend you.
My words come from a rule less place.
Not to mistake it with the others’ place.
Although they are similar.
LOL
I hate that.
I came from the concrete.
Wanting to be buried six feet deep.
The walking dead.
Whosoever read.
I’m still hear in the flesh.
Running my mathafuckin best.
Did you read about council crest?
It was like just showing up,
And proving I am the mathafuckin’ best.
However, that test.
Comes at a price.
A runner’s oath.
Just stay healthy and endear growth.
It is healthy.
Whether or not you are wealthy.
I am debating a part 1 and 2 to this.
You all are actually reading this.
In the meantime, rhyming bliss.
Trying to decide what to keep writing.
This is the writer’s mind.
Although I impersonate one well.
Here’s to that theory anyway.
In the night is when the content’s best.
Like a midnight run.
Flashing lights are from the test.
Let em’ know you’re the runner of crest.
Call the muse and greatness gets growth with rest.
I stuffed a cat in a tin can once.
I was young.
If there are any people out there who think I am racist.
I’ll prove to you, you are too.
The confused fool.
Amusing and cruel.
I’ll fix racism dude.
But not really.
It’ll be in a story.
Of God given glory.
So, go buy my book.
They will be words of art.
Divine IX.
Trilogy of a lifetime.
So, go buy it.
I got bills to pay.
Releasing it Spring 2019.
Next subject,
Reading in between.
I once cheated on a gurl.
Ok maybe more than once.
But I am more faithful than ever now.
Who read this far?
Like the poem if you read this far.
It’s the mark of a great journey so far.
One of words.
Art first driven from a car.
My Honda Accord.
Bought it.
And I God knew I could not afford it.
Like the Merdedez.
But I had that Benz tho’…
Rolling round smokin’ endo…
Is that chronic?
That it is written from…
A writer’s gut feeling.
Who once could not see the ceiling.
But now I see the rooms of the others.
The architecture quite revealing.
Like something from the future.
For the one’s living in the sky.
You’re the lucky ones.
Look at what the people of politics have done.
I would’ve loved to laugh and speak with eazy-baby.
And see what he would’ve said or done.
Remember pinching my cheeks?
Girls hate it.
Remember in study hall teachers assumed we were related?
It wouldn’t be the only thing white people assumed about me and I hated.
But they were right about a me.
Mysteriously elated.
Hello, again.
You couldn’t get it together.
I saved you once and assumed it would never be a thing.
Not sure if you’re family knew about the first near death, or overdose occurring thing.
But I thought you were like me.
And would live long past those ending life feelings.
Live on to tell a true hurtful story.
Like me.
But hello, I’ll help finish your story.
I run hills and bridges to get past those worries.
You’re a significant part of my story.
Closure to a worry.
I remember Science fairs.
And Volcano experiments I showed off there.
So boring.
Teach your kid a new science trick.
Like letting the brain idol.
And see what thoughts tick.
Maybe that’s hard to mimic.
I love my life.
21 books in 3 years.
Under the publishing of my own fear.
Next, Bourgeoisie I.
I often pronounce it wrong.
But when the speedometer reaches 25 MPH,
The side view mirrors fold out from a retracted position.
Typically put in when parked.
Fancy car stuff.
I learned Japanese until 18.
I hated going to church, until 19.
Went off to college, UNLV.
How many credits?
Onescore minus 1
19.
Lane was lame.
U of O was full of oaths.
I could care less for my degrees.
Of aptitude.
Because now I’m a negro with attitude.
Didn’t walk across the stage because I forgot gratitude.
Just went on into the real world.
Turning me into the BMW driver with an attitude.
All the white teachers would think I’m a scholar.
But no, just honed down on self and thought taller.
Meditation is not for the scholar.
I don’t care to see your thoughts taller.
I’ve been there and back.
Get smarter.
But anyways.
Remembering the Nick at Night days?
In the summer time?
When my parents would take us to places.
The Oregon Beaches.
Louisiana.
California.
Mexico.
I went to Japan.
I traveled young.
A lot.
I went to Jamaica.
I saw rich city lights from my seat at 9.
There on I look down, sword given by the divine.
I solitude and attitude to hone.
On the land we once grown.
But never to act and dethrone,
Here we are 4000.
Remember I’m going for 7000.
All my secrets revealed.
I had one crush all through high school.
I saw her at Home Depot a while back after Dekum’s blue.
Reminding me it’s no longer there to inspire true.
So I had to write the hue.
And it had nothing to do with you.
Just the fact that the thought and scene was honestly true.
Reading between the lines will get you confused.
But that is what I want you to do.
Just keep reading fool.
I ran DC to write this.
And despite this.
I don’t know how I’ll end this.
Aren’t you curious?
It gets me excited.
Never delirious.
I’m cute.
You should think so too.
But only about yourself.
Walk around and make people assume wealth.
I do it with writing.
Making people think I enjoy writing.
But I just enjoy thinking.
Middle school sucked.
After Richmond.
You’re young again.
Looking for more younger friends.
Or BFFs til the end.
But I can care less for that.
I need one.
Founder her.
DreamTeam.
And my family.
The royal extensions.
But this is the king’s talk.
And the unique, discreet King’s walk.
But whosoever thought.
The idea would never rot.
Just keep writing and leaving.
I was horrible at basketball.
Boing.
Nike.
I wanted to be Vince Carter Tall.
Dunk like MJ after all.
Play like Kobe in the playoffs, working out into the fall.
But I got writing, with a side of fighting.
Couldn’t do it in high school.
Idolizing fools
Listening to fools.
Being cruel.
To woman.
But then I got straight.
Later life got great.
Everyday I am able to create.
Can you relate?
Not everyone will have my journey.
I don’t dare you to take it.
It involves 4-5 years of suicide.
And 10 years thinking I could never ride.
In an M4.
This summer I’ll be driving fast in my M4.
Thanks for reading.
Can you tell where I took breaks?
Ever visited the great lakes?
My dad once whipped me for saying I hate white people.
I was repeating my cousins.
But I grew to love them.
Just as must as I hate racism.
I am planning to fix racism btw.
All my skeletons out the closet so people won’t try and solve them.
Don’t try and judge me.
You’d make yourself easy bate.
I’ll prove your racist.
By…
I guess you just gotta wait to read my book(s)
I plan to sell numerous copies.
I aint playin.
Maybe 1 million in the first week.
Would that set the self-publishers’ record?
(Make note to Google later)
Anyway.
4444
Get it?
I just play in planes.
Like I play with words.
Chaos to order.
The ingredient to life.
I’ll tell you all later in book number….
I was a quiet child.
My mom couldn’t cook spaghetti.
My dad never cleaned up after his self.
My sisters are like guardians.
Shaping me.
So are my cousins and my family.
My bubble is wide.
I often think too wide.
My mom just put me out there without a care.
Maddox, what’s up man.
I’m going to take you back to the day I was born.
Starting from Today.
A day I lived my dream.
Yesterday I did the same thing.
Relived the childhood at the age of three.
My memory will recall many things.
Like the kids who don’t remember me.
But we are watchers in the remembering.
Only certain ones do the same thing.
Like in October.
I left a 6 figure offering.
To do writing.
Because I have a story that’s inspiring.
It’s been written since I could have been admiring.
The ocean over the pacific last Summer.
The Island where I drover the Jeep like a Hummer.
That trip was the best.
Aloha to the Hauula highway runner.
So hot.
But I live for it.
I’ll likely get more migraines this summer.
That’ll tell the corporate guys I did nothing with health.
What a stunner.
Goodnight.
I’ll be on a red eye flight.
Often since 9.
That’s All I looked forward to despite.
Being nervous of the eye on me.
Front of the flight.
Anyone else get that?
Oh what a night.
Oh what a red eye flight.
I once took a round trip flight.
Despite getting evicted the very next night.
But we partied in Vegas.
Came back and slept sick.
Like what about rent?
My last chance to never not pay it.
Get it?
Just ran it.
From windows.
To the walls.
I fall then I stall.
Purposely ya’ll.
In the heat of the night.
I once told my boss he was wrong.
Then later his boss told me not to tell him that.
Fuck you.
I can deal with anything God Giveth me.
We also have to decide now.
What God be to me.
A thing?
A person?
Persona?
Energy?
The stars?
Maybe a turtle?
I think God is something.
A word.
Created in just.
Meaning,
God just as thou.
Thou with him.
Can carry what see it to rest.
Remember Counsil Crest.
My greatest run.
Ever the best.
That was God.
Running thou best.
Because I do not run mountain peaks.
Nor do I care for Nike sneaks.
But I bought them because I believed in me.
Like Nike ‘just do it’.
I just show up.
And run it.
People assume a lot of me.
Most people assume nothing of me.
I could assume all day.
Enabling the ass in the hay.
This was easy by the way.
In case you are wondering.
Here’s the catch.
DC was geographical isolation.
But I write a lot anyway.
In High school I had hoop dreams.
I wanted to shoot like Waters.
And hoop in the dream teams.
The ones that showcased real talent.
On the General’s floor.
Fourscore below 2.
We knew what it was before it inspired you.
At 4 years old.
I fell out my mother’s moving van.
It was scary man.
After Church.
Trying to shut the door.
meh.
Meaning next, college would be my chance.
But I ended up wanting to die.
Fuck the homework.
They wouldn’t allow me to be creative.
Fuck that regressive dumbwork.
But it got me here.
Only to still be misread.
And better yet.
I’m better fed.
Because I do not care.
What it takes to create a better stare.
Stories are told in the eyes.
Its how we tell the despised
My writing has been sloppy.
But only in the last 10 lines of this poem.
Let me take it home again.
I sold aviation data well as fuck.
Enough to put away funds.
As much and such.
To leave corporate America.
But that would not have been possible without Dekum’s blue.
Given to inspire the true.
Picked up Kali and learnt a Hindu root.
After so many pets buried in the backyard of Dekum’s blue.
But what’s that status quo for you?
I write to get way passed you.
All the merrier of the barrier.
I’ve flown so many carriers.
I’ll finish this in New York.
Started in DC.
I hate big Cities.
But that’s ironically how I got my beginning.
However, it started on 82nd.
I rode my bike to PDX.
To see the planes land just for a second.
Because I was scared a car would hit me.
So, I left sooner than later.
Assuming I’ll go further than a runway later.
Japan 3 years later.
But family being the favor.
Louisiana was my first flight.
I was scared alright.
But now I play on them planes and write.
Follow my journey with no regret.
The worries are often what you forget.
But later in life that can come back.
Like, ‘never forget’.
Dez could’ve lived a good life.
Now, there I go getting off track about other lives.
But here me out.
Don’t smoke in the drought.
Just drink water.
It’ll make you think broader.
Don’t be ignorant.
I have plenty of stories for the undeliverant.
That’s not a word.
I just got tired and made up a verb.
History is not what you think.
You don’t experience another culture.
You embrace it.
Take it to your culture.
But don’t be the culture vulture.
Not standing up to the vulture’s troubles.
You’ll die in the rubble.
Like what was it to you?
A seasonal change in misery?
Pick your protest or it’s lost history.
Don’t ever ignore the indigenous’ history.
They can come to your home and say?
Look at those Americans.
Living and over paying the most in taxes.
What great mystery.
Why?
The people allowed it for so long.
Some like me was not there to say.
Hey, this is wrong.
My people built this country strong.
Even though most were wrong.
America’s great today.
I made that statement bright and bold.
Don’t believe me?
Let me tell you a story.
Of good glory.
Repeating myself again.
Never sold drugs.
But I did a couple.
Who you gone tell?
Ever met a black writer named Terrell?
I have.
He’s an impersonator.
But even better creator.
Of things for the world.
5555.
I’m on my way.
Racism will be fixed.
In three different ways.
Just go buy my book(s).
Richmond is all it took.
Seeing the world of systems that had my people shook.
But I don’t own anyone.
So, who am I fighting for?
What?
I mean, what about you?
On the street yelling for a cause.
Fools don’t even understand the historical cause.
Just yelling respect me.
And my cause.
Led by a few.
That strongly inspire you.
But then you fail alone.
To pretend that cause.
Pause.

AMWRITING.

AMFIGHTING

A black man writing.
You cannot deny me.
I know enough to be apart.
But you’ll look at me like what’s his part?
Because I thought GOD…
We are the expressions of a man playing parts.
Like here little boy.
Be good.
And you’ll get the bigger mark.
You may say eyes and teeth because I’m blacker than you.
But I guarantee you I’m lighter than you.
I breathe differently.
In tune with the reptilian intrinsically.
They say that black ass nigga’s a frenemy.
To no enemy.
But trust, you do not want to see the end of me.
The beast in me.
Bringing the animal out of thee.
Because I have no temper issues.
Don’t get elated by the contained temper I can issue.
I hate rhyming.
Just like I hated homework.
But this is life.
This is what I dreamed of back when I also dreamed of a wife.
Despite being broke for so long I found first my life.
It was the writing.
And the people of corporate.
The token negro.
The taken hero.
But no racist negro.
Like no one predicted that after the suicidal low.
What the hell are you waiting for?
Jay don’t trip just hit my phone.
I really don’t think about the top or the throne.
Nigga’s is old men.
Ain’t tryna rap no mo.
But people don’t like me.
Despite my big smile.
Meditation miles.
What’s up HippoCampus.
What’s the deal with R Kelly by the way?
Do I need a new world’s greatest to play?
Portland Oregon was fun to grow up in.
Something that has never been said.
2 lines above.
Please do not repeat what I said.
Portland is sensitive.
But I love it.
Despite what’s read.
I never wanted to be a rapper.
If I did.
It’s because of the life of a trapper.
They just show up.
Like I do.
Saxophone.
Took it home.
Like this ling ass poem.
My vegan diet got me feeling weak.
I’m accustomed to strong.
Who read to this point?
There’s not much here but one last story.
For my own glory.
Wanna hear?
I’ve flown so many times.
People have told me they thought I was in first class.
That level of convenience is dangerous.
Because life gets expensive.
So, I need money.
To help my first-class traveling habits.
But in all honesty.
I’ll likely be flying private before I get a first-class seat.
Only once.
But hey, TSA is easy.
Bottom line here is.
I need everyone to read my books.
It’s for all of you.
Ego driven assholes likely won’t get it.
Because of their ego.
Always trying to save themselves.
Like whosoever what the hell?
I played with barbie’s basement cells.
I tell my life in writing because people don’t read.
You’re special if my writing took more time than it needs.
Like kitties on a couch.
All they do is knead.
I’m a writer and have misspelled many words.
My grammar is meh.
But you would have never guessed.
Like Council Crest.
Ran uphill to the peak.
I was the best.
Running as I seek.
Putting migraine fears to rest.
No post run sleep.
But a nausea test.
Elevation was steep.
Seeing the mountain’s crest.
But I was on the run.
In DC.
From the COPs
And their ops.
Because the Black house stops.
Dekum’s blue was true.
Your house is on top of a cemetery foo.
Double bogey the profit and have a brew.
A lizard.
Tree frog.
Couple cats and a dog.
Hamsters with a ball.
Annoying ass rodents..
I lost them often,
Running free for all.
Scamps where I bought most them all.
My father adopted a puppy.
Let her roam in the backyard when I was a child.
Ran away while in Jamaica.
That shit was wild.
Grandma Sara gave two shits about the animal from the wild.
Never knowing I’ll be the voice running for miles.
But that’s the animal’s voice living with child.
That never really grew.
I still wanna play batman.
But what gets in the way?
Inspiring you.
Because I am often distracted.
This may well be my longest poem started in DC.
700 to go.
I hope the people are starting to read me.
I do a PODCAST.
I’m Writing a book.
No one can help me, assuming they need a hook.
Although these words often written in the air.
With the clouds
I am the fire in the clouds!
I am the one who will speak loud.
Without a doubt.
What’s 2019 about?
My books, turning the winners into phony crooks.
But some I would like to join.
Because success comes with a flip of coin.
Just choose the tail end,
Create your story.
If you get heads.
You’re a winner.
Anthony Whiner.
I’m sure I watched a lot of CNN these last couple years.
But like the rest, it was out of fear.
Thus, Council Crest was not my fear.
2020 a clear year for those in fear.
Wipe away the tear.
No fear in reading me here.
I’ve been working all day and night.
Trying to find the perfect flight.
Most my planes will land on the water.
It’s been a while since I’ve seen my father.
Flying over the Atlantic.
Where my ancestors jumped avoiding slavery.
What bravery.
The weak bane of me.
Not understanding the days they slaved for me.
I live it.
But never live it.
I would have been livid.
Seeing my family members raped.
Stolen.
Beatin’ until the evening.
White people don’t care.
They aren’t supposed to.
It’s not their duty.
They have it different.
Ignoring their ancestor’s malice.
Anyway, that is just what history does.
But only when you read.
Again, secrets are in books.
Read them you’ll live on the hooks.
Of a trusted society.
But wait,
That’s beside me.
Meditate on that with me,
You should see the rooms they gave me.
Well behaved.
Out of respect.
No one envy’s.
To my face.
If you do.
You art thou failing fool.
But hate is not what you can overstand.
Because in the moment.
You’ll forget.
Thinking….
Do not forget me!
Fuck you.
But at the same time, I love you.
The world.
The people.
Create my world.
With meaning beyond dreaming.
People art thou hook.
They expand your world.
Now meet my world.
It’s simple.
A kid can overstand it,
Via words I am quite ahead of myself.
Kinda forgetting why I am typing so much.
Maybe for health.
Wealth.
Cuz I got bills.
And in the Spring.
Read my dream.
Make it a hook to your dream.
The hardest part was facing reality.
And in the hardest of moments.
Assuming you laugh.
It’ll spark creativity.
You all met the bad guy of me?
No ya’ll didn’t.
He doesn’t exist.
But you can read my book.
Figure it out.
Smoke the clout.
I can also write comedy now.
Turn that frown upside down.
Give the man his golden crown.
Bet I won’t want it when I get it.
Meh…
This is all an imaginary image.
Some just will not get it.
Until the plane lands.
And baggage claim demands.
But since most are W2.
They will look at you.
Like the inspiring fool.
Or lost tool.
My number one rule.
Hone down on self.
Love thy self.
Words will come out the shelf.
People asking who the fuck else?
Cares for the man writing himself.
I wouldn’t.
Until I met him.
Likely mysteriously crazed in the head.
Flipped a coin.
Got tail first later hated head.
My sci-fi will do it for the culture.
Look upward never the vulture.
Loot the enemy.
Teach the frenemy.
Who art thou in the wild?
A man tamed for while?
Looking for eyes in the wild?
Other eyes will kill for looking at their child.
The animals in the wild.
Not woman on earth with child.
Flying planes ever so loud.
Landing for years.
Destinations all over.
My planes land on the water.
Curren$y inspired.
My father’s desire.
Meaning I do this for his attire.
Vanity in water.
I miss my father.
I could show him the writer.
His respect is to the fighter.
Taking off to highly inspire.
No secrets here father.
But these poems land over water.
Floating forever.
The secrets here.
Reading your fear.

Divine IX Trilogy: Bourgeoisie I (COMING SOON)

-TK

I once thought long & hard about the challenges we give ourselves daily, of finding an eternal feeling of joy and abundance. Through inspirational explorations of my past, I've digested each experience with gratitude. Here on @vehicledigest.net you'll see what allows me to display my enthusiastic lifestyle. Allowing the words to be my vehicle through creativity, elegance, and wit.

4 Comment on “Written On The Run In D.C.

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