Poem: “Time”

Time

Traveling the sky-blue sky,
Pondering on what to write
Temporarily escaping my reality,
And I’m home eating a variety of hot, spicy Latino home-cooked meals.
Everything feels just right.

Every new poem I write is a new-grown green leaf on an old brown tree.
Vast amounts of trees are found back home
Where you see monkeys swinging from tree to tree and where I once lived truly free.
This pen bleeds my thoughts and emotions,
I write best when I’m alone, at peace and without commotion.

Dreaming and writing are ways of obliterating the abyss we call time.
Focus on the positive things you can do,
Forget the negative things you’ve done.
Time is a word, numbers are digits.
Both man-made, Time doesn’t really exist.

Poem: “Ain’t No Second Life”

Ain’t No Second Life

I started off when I was young, explicit situations.
A whole lot of drama, family problems
I was raised to have respect, but I was raised wit no father.

I see the temptation, and I feel the fire when my heart beat
I’m weezing when I speak; it’s kind of hard for me to breathe.
The chills from the wind and the smoke in my system
Got me paranoid in the night.

I do what I gotta do, but I can’t do what I wanna do
Without God in your shoes, it’s kind of hard to do right…
That’s why I think twice when I move
‘Cause it ain’t no second life when you lose,
So make a choice when you choose.

Poem: “Conversion”

Conversion

Rafael to Rahael, one day it took.

As I inhale then exhale,
I pray by the book.

From nothing to Islam,
I like what I saw.

From unstable to stable,
I like what I’ve withdrawn.

From bad to good,
I try to be on my din.

To humble from mean,
I do not for green.

I do for blessings for the hereafter,
You know what I mean?

As I read and learn, I teach in turn.
Umma and sabr is what I have earned.

Poem: “Time to Time”

Time to Time

Time to time I think about dying
Time to time I think about crying
Time to time I think about trying
Time to time I think about lying
Time to time I can do good
Time to time I could do bad
Time to time I’m so sad

Poem: “Mystery Lover”

Mystery Lover

This girl dun blind my view like a shiny watch,
She has my head thinkin’ emotional like the speech at the Million Man March.
Sometimes I just reminisce and smile,
Because of how much I miss her.
Her ways, her style, her whole demeanor,
I never knew I would find such a strong, independent black sistah
that I could talk to like she is my biological sistah.
She knows who’s real and who’s a wangsta
So don’t try to bring your weak game if you a pranksta.
Most dudes can’t even handle her
They say she too aggressive or mean,
I say that’s my mystery lover
You just don’t know how to persuade her.