Tonight

I stand before you tonight with a free style
cause what I have to say
I thought was worth
they wild
my words
fit the profile
cause I just buried my child
So I stand before you left with a seven year old
and wife whose dom is split open pouring out sorrow that provides enough red ink that I had to think of a way to covey my purpose in this room
you come and play with the gift with big egos hats and plumes
while I write as to not be consumed by the casket and beautiful basket of flowers her classmates sent
I stand in this crowd just to prevent a subsequent death I possess the pebble that would shatter the windshield of the car wreck that wrecked her body and our world
I have still two baby girls
My wife and seven year old daughter not to mention grandma
I
Hate to waste your time but I took this open mic as my dime to reach out to you and transcend time if just for a nanosecond cause the minute I let go imma blow my fucking ...
I reckon I best keep coming back so I can nurse my wife to health she has lost so much she has lost touch of what it means to live she merely exist our little person is slowly grasping the concept of this carnage called life her sister is no longer here she said she don't want to ride her bike and when she gets older she just might be afraid of what she couldn't quite pin point but I am sure it is of what we all are fearful of
No control a fear of life a fear of the unknown a fear of being served with a curveball of life that would change your time zone
So I stand with this style so free to let my daughter's spirit inhabit me and roam
I speak her words right before she left home;

"Daddy, I trust you to carry my legacy on just as I have done for you. I have left you too soon I know this to be true. Yet I have carried you as far as I possible could. Now I must go forth but know I am never too far..."

I can't read the rest cause it gets stuck in my chest so I will just say love our children and be blessed.

Life

What is respiration without inspiration confirming the affirmations counteracting condemnations that serve as initiations into self negation leading to contemplation of seeking false elation

A permanent mental vacation complacent in stagnantion with few variations on Friday and Saturday occasions followed by Sunday indoctrination

I keep pacing the floor looking for the trap door to release you all,
The whore
Who freely give your minds for the sake of passing time waiting for the next time to mime and act classy but your image is ashy knowing that on the other side the green isn't grassy
but
You continue to be flashy I ask thee
What is required to restore the motherboard with its original drivers so the applications can not only be smart but wiser?

So the voice recognizer, software can hear its own voice making a conscious choice diplaying a higher resolution in your digital monitor unafraid to honor HER and cosmicly play amongst the stars within the galaxies yet to be seen through human eye,
defy the laws of gravity.

Experiencing real heavy rotation touching future generations walking through the constellations drinking all of your sacrificial libations
you receive a celestrial standing ovation the elation resonating through you producing beneficial fubu
clarifying the hoodo that you do breaking the spell that makes you compelled to use pet names like boo boo
yet
can explain and provide you with a real crew to turn to when needing a blast a spiritual starbucks requiring no expres so far cut above I rest my case in haste and paste this trace of thought that makes your nerve endings talk to your walk altering your course of action the attraction you feel the traction hoping I don't end a fraction of you are turned on and burn the toxic auras surrounding your being and seeing these words manifest you must confess the shortcomings and ask
What is respiration without inspiration confirming the affirmations counteracting condemnations that serve as initiations into self negation leading to contemplation of seeking false elation

O.N.E.I. Copyright 2010
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®

Tears II

Tears are the words falling that we just can't speak Tears are only for the strong and not for the weak Tears clean out the emotional painsThey are the deep seeded thorns that stick in our brains Tears are the hurtful memories falling down in watery piecesmaking room for lifes new moments and the lessons it teaches AndFor each salty stain left upon your cheek remember why you cried and begin to dig deep Start your journey to reach your peakThe people you meet along the path you beat will have positive and negative fruit to eat as you rummage in the field of emotional cleansing only your tears can wash your buildingOnly you control the interior design of your mindonly you can shift the furniture to make you shine Don't compare your building with anyone else because everyones cards have been dealt from a different deck yet by the same dealer So consult GOD for he is the ultimate healer The Creater knows from whence those tears came and HE knew when they would fall HE is just waiting for you to make that call to gently ask for what you want HE will repair that esteem that always seems to haunt HE will dry those tears erase the stains and pains but be mindful not to use HIM in vain In order to eat the fruit along your travels you must work and put away your gaveldo not judge your self or judge others cry these tears and use your mothers andall otherswho are quietly waiting for you to ask for what you emotionally needdo it now so you can be freed.
o.n.e.i. 2009

Spho

Who speaks to the one who stands n the middle of the road possesing the pyramid reflecting the polarity of energies light
Who speaks to the one who stands vulnerable in humbled delight
Who speaks to the one who is awakened and refuses to fall into slumber the one who counts on every number to sum up all the possibilities thought of
Who speaks to the nay sayer truth teller drunken with messages displaying vestiges of time travel
Who speaks to thee standing in the mirror of humanity shattered with calamity after calamity who is abandoned by we the shamans called a men fall
Who speaks is out of the cloud who truly allows the speaker to be loud enough to reach the rough places that appear off course and of course
Who speaks to this piece intelligibly except the tree tied to your being are you seeing who speaks


ONEI copyright 2010

Note

Note:I write to you in hopes that you are not treated like the children harmed by popes I write in hopes that you cope well with the fact that I feel compelled to use you to quell my raging thoughts
I halt with thought that I may take you to the limit and out of context
you see I write you and its kinda complex
I turn to you, a simple note to play upon my heart strings and bring an ounce of sanity to this noteless world filled with vanity
I candidly admit that I pick you
Note: to hold my impulses and give them life
Note: you are the reason why I write

Mirrors

Reflections reflect
What you cannot recollect
Remember the irrational
Reason the reside is in your reflection
Reflecting like a reflector
Remember reconsider reflecting
Within your reservoir retreat
Reflect upon your rational self and relocation
Is what you will reconsider.

Lost Thoughts

Lost Thoughts
I lost my thoughts in the waters of baptism.
Ate my ideas with communion drank away my hopes
Smoked up my goals and snorted away my dreams.
Shot up my inspiration fell out of the house in desperation
With numb love
The kind that don’t come from above.
Never touched or validated
We waited,
Equated dollar signs
To I’ve made it!
Got a car, a house, loot and shot hoops.
Intelligent mind like mine
Like phat corna dimes
Confused in the mind can’t keep time
Except in rhyme, I lost my thoughts
But I’m not behind

o.n.e.i.
copyright 2000

Brotherly Love

I come from a place where some see the liberty bell
I face the living hell of digital scales
Hanging in the balance
Of silence no violence
Just-us-you-I and me
Who lurks upon these barren streets
trying to excrete the deepest part of my bowels
I hear the babies’ howl-
did I get here by foul ball or fowl play
Stuck in a three second day
24 minutes remain in the game
4th down and pain Staking
Walks stalks bean pies mixed with chalk against the dark
Moon lit double lines
I look to find a kind of
Peace
That would reach further than a brush
I stroke the pavement and make it my canvas
Yellow as the road in Kansas
Bizarre as it may seem I have subway dreams
Orange and blue I elevate to you my peers
I reside in the city of fear
It wants to tear away my hopes
Burn my vision
Transplant my goals with a deadly incision
Can you feel the tension inching closer around your neck?
Living in a land that has no respect
Crossing all boundaries
The enemy is surrounding me
Living in a hell cell of liberty bell
I weigh my soul on a digital scale lighter than a feather
I lived to tell the tale

o.n.e.i.
copyright 2001

Swimming In Space

I fall further into an abyss
The mist grows thick
Escaping into a mental bliss
I curb my fist
Onto a pencil
UtensilI use to peruse
The abused battered places
Appearing as an oasis
Spaces unapproved for safe dwellingI'm telling, you all
What it feels like,
The fall

The pain skint my brain,
Causing me to write
When left I came.
On winter seasons, demons,
Intersecting insane,
Parallel to hope,
Perpendicular to pain.
Telepathic communication
Is not in vein.
Clairvoyant symbolism within my plain,
Field of view,
Lost some of you, in love and war
Controlled real young so my mind is sore
Hard too the core
I soar
Even in the abyss I see the door.

o.n.e.i.
copyright 2001

The Pit

Standing in a bottomless pit
I lit a match
The sulfur turned it black
So I'm back
at square one
Standing in a bottomless pit
I am one
With darkness
knowing of thisDarkness lacking knowledge
Standing in a bottomless pit
No light feels quite sufficient
TwirlingWithout cognizant direction
Providing correction
Not even the brownness of my complexion
Gives me affection
Self-persecution found in confusion becomes amusing
Perusing past trails I get lost and fail to recognize
The pattern of Saturn when matter in of fact
I can't bring it back
Looking at the bottomless pit
Standing with a match I lit
The path suspended in animation
I ask those who wear the mask
how can I cast
A vote of hope to those who can't cope
Stranded
In a pit to grope
Fanatically scope without guidance
Nor rope to pull them under or out
The pit
The bottomless pit
Has a mouth
Swallowing us whole full of doubt
We shout
As if church was about
Sanctified service do I deserve this route
Standing in the bottomless pit
But how?
If it has no foundation
In the bottomless pit
HE SPARKS CREATION.

o.n.e.i.
copyright 2001

Penmanship

PENMANSHIP

I am touching you again

Not knowing how to hold you or what to say.

It’s all cramped up, packed away

I thought I’d lost you or you went astray

I find myself touching you,

Again,

In some strange way possible a sin

Lookin’ to hold you

Addicted to THE PEN.

Secondary is paper as a long lost friend

I continue to bend consonants to no end

Vowel I’ll do my best with enunciation

Vowing commitment to my occupation

Calling!

If I must say so myself.

Witnessing poetry books stored on the shelf

Uneducated in the science, thru GREATER ALLIANCE

I still write despite my electric fence defiance

Slash-mental blocks words lock ink filled jots control my mind.

Life hands in the balance escaping time

Transforming trance of the DIVINE.

Entering my soul as colorful rhyme

Cadence is rhythm manifesting as hymn

THE PEN

Produces

The snaps, the applause, the yes-yes ya’lls

From gray cloud skies eloquence does fall.

Inspiring hues of blues and deepening blacks.

Allows me to decrease these demons on my back

Desperate in all attempts I twist and spin

Never relinquishing the Power of THE PEN.

o.n.e.i.
copyright 2005

What It Means To Me

Poems are like medicine for my mind,
You'll understand if you're my kind.
Poems are like a sedative deep into the night,
When I am sleep and my mind takes flight.
Poems are my salvation when I hang on the cross,
Thoughts bring me to a road to which I'm lost.
Poems are rosary beads touched with pen,
For all the times I want to give in.

Poems are my enemies of all ghosts past,
Haunting and taunting me they even laugh.
Poems are suicide letters written in despair,
When I can't feel or see an nobody out there.
Poems touch me and I touch them back,
They reflect my love even when I lack.

Poems are nothing, yes everything,
All.
Something like my final call covering in covenant
As an ole woman's shawl.
Poems are intricate small and deep,
An intimate introspection into me.

Poems are solitude for the multitude in a tube of tunnel vision,
Sharp incision definition of division
Between streets and prisons.
Poems are reminders of past inflictions with no convictions.
Never read causing repetition of mission turned purpose,
Analyzing those who hurt us.
Code name murderous.

Poems are the truth told in tone initiated with vocal moans,
Secret yet not unknown uniforms rare resided in catacombs.
Mummified for those qualified.
In silence they hide scriptures, provide elixers,
With a mixture they're a strong fixture.

Poems are a seance with spirits,
Experience varies in degrees,
Some reach in blazin', some naturally.

Poems are tickets to freedom,
A train of thought in motion, full of devotion
With a small quotient
Over standing the meaning of a poem

O.N.E.I.

copyright 2001

o.n.e.i.
copyright 2001