It used to be I ran ahead, it used to be I made the trends

And even absent, lost or lit refused to follow in amends

I was excited to be me, I had the will, I had the might,

I’d always write and seldom read, I’d be my own shining light,

I argued tirelessly for, I’d be the wicked poster child,

For words unwound through display of something free and even wild.

I had an endless drive to say, and often lost and came on top,

I lived and acted night and day, my energy – my strength and trap.

Be everywhere and everything was always how I survived,

There was no need for stepping back, I told the truth and never lied

It used to be I had a role, my name was always know-it-all

But time has passed and I’m AWOL, and what I’ve seen has taken toll

My memories replaced my dreams, I’m slightly jaded, always bored,

And when I read the Holly words, I feel unworthy of the Lord.

I do a lot and what of it? I only touch what I affect,

Through mindless moves and senseless thoughts I am my own architect.

I only think of what I need, and otherwise I’d rather sleep,

And when I say some worthy words, all people hear is a ‘bleep’.

I’m not depressed, not even lost, at times I even seek to learn,

At times I think I’m like a creep, my welcome’s permanently worn.

These are my words, these are my thoughts, I haven’t changed, I’m still the same

I sleep awake and wake to sleep, I’m still alive and never tamed.


You never truly understood, and maybe even blame yourself,

I never mean to be so rude, and your shelf life is my life shell,

I float so careless and free, I will defy your call for sense,

I’m only asking to be me, it’s not a lot, it’s not immense.

My pain is absence of sonnets, and then my words will cause the pain,

All my ideas monetized, and I could really make it rain.

I am an artist and a child, I shit the glitter, eat the dirt,

And when I’m ‘bout to succeed, I will depart, I will abort.

I will forget what brought me here, I only needed to recharge,

I shed a tear. Seemed sincere. I almost built the mighty Taj.

I’m damaged goods and I’m a lot, I am unique, but crude as fuck,

I won’t  demean to prostitutes while running out fresh of luck.

I am amazing, have no doubt, but I will likely fuck you up,

Don’t push your luck, take what you get, and be my own on the dot.

You thank your G-d, whoever is, you bow down with respect

To something other than yourself, like you’re repaying some old debt.

You got it in you, that’s the truth, don’t be selective, be sincere

Make an investment, plant the roots, forget your misery and tears

Try to grab on, and make me watch, how you will please my every might,

You’re running circles just because you’re always turning only right.

Or maybe left and still enjoy the independence of your thought,

I mean, you need to recognize that being self is just a lot.


So slow your roll and play your part, and I’ll make sure that you keep up,

Define your role, that is your art, and let me write and maybe rap.

And maybe play, and maybe lay, and maybe hear Snoop and Dre,

I have a way and I just may decide to be somewhat cray-cray

Decide to be alone at last, but always happy and fulfilled

Life is a show and events don’t come pre-written on a bill.

There is no manual to life, there are no answers, only thoughts,

I am bohemian and trife, at least I back my own words.