Page updated and still working on it 120807.
Met this one ride or die chic 012005 and been trying to stay diligent ever since. 012105 - the day I became a real writer. It's time to [re]create myself...
The hardest part about being real is accepting the truth about yourself...that's a fact bitch.
I don't like music
The day I took my first breath, my first listen...
That was the day music died
Maybe it's because I'm so Def?
And they said your boys a hard act to follow
Make amends, but theres still a lot of grime to swallow
And you preach, but everyone will die tomorrow
Because the games over, your heart was always hollow...
They say love never runs away
So Im takin the walk...
I went 05 pro back in the day(only djs, namely hiphop djs will get that).
Born back in late 70's, nine to be exact, month twelve, day phive and oh I forgot
at what exact time. At what point is old school? Ufck it, im all school kid.
Took a first read at this myspace thang back in september oh three and invested in
some razor blades to keep cuttin this chit straight. Didn't roll no washies, hamiltons
or lincolns to snort this...cause its all about the benjis son.
Took a write on a one way street goin the wrong way and ended up in better than I've ever
been. Met some cool cats here along the way...cats that are REAL...DOWN. Had enough
of these perras(bishes) that B-52(roam) los calles(the streets) of one way(that's my way).
Which reminds me...anyone listened to the chocolate starfish and the hotdog flavored
water lately? Haha I know I just lost most of you. That's a limp bizkit you got there son!
.:lol:.
I used to be thee phive.seven.poet, obverse of the art form crew:
cursive writing | urban thought. Members first to burn: ill_poetic,
lady_poet and last but not least the smirk_poet. But now, most of us have went
our own ways. It might be a little obvious now that I am a writer, or shall I
say was. I retired back on the lords day [20 Aug 2006 | Sunday], went out with a bang,
taken shots of that jesus juice. Ya dig? Question: Who is on the obverse side of a fifty?
Granted(haha) I did retire, I buried the phive.seven.poet with his last writes and became
a poet unknown and took a write celibacy. But I did break my silence a lil while back,
had to...christmas brings out the best in me...and this is what he said:
It was phive past twelve early christmas morning
Signs didnt look too good, this weak beat she wasnt ignoring
A hope for this new gift would be a dream come true
Wrapped and ribboned by Santas do
A tree planted in the corner with lights array
All was silent in hopes of hearing bells dangling from Santa's sleigh
The walls were white like that of snow
Christmas' aren't always perfect, that you should know...
Many children to unwrap their gifts and toys
While their parents watch, ceasing this moment to enjoy
A smile or some laughter from their kin
All to be done one more year later, again and again
But for some, Christmas may only come once in a lifetime
And not year after year
Why would you want to celebrate
On a day that saw so many tears
For this child took her first breath phive after
And then the next couple hours became a disaster
Breathing complications due to things unknown
Or maybe it was because her mother had to much fun with the snow
And in that time, where everything seems to be in slow motion
You could hear a pin drop, your heart beat and soon to be a dying devotion
You yell and scream, a cry for one last hope
But Santa knows you've been naughty, he hopes this cures your addiction to coke.
*remember, gifts have many different sizes and shapes...and some can't even be seen.
While that was the last thing ever written by a poet unknown, it was not at his best.
It was just some x-mas cheer for the holidays...merry christmas bishes.
Nowadays you can find your boy taking to life a write and left, working monday-sunday...
payin them bills while doin cartwheels, ya feel? Patiently waiting on a hot collabo
with the ill_concept of the the ill_poetic. Someday, someday...
At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet...but the difference between them and I
is that they lack the ability to stay constant with lifes rhyme...touch life.
And just like George double ya said, "peace in the missle".
.peace in the middle.
keep. | create.
