Let go, and Release it all here. Whether in a poem form, or if you just want to let something off your chest. This is the place to do it. All are welcomed. Let the world hear your voice through your own words. Relax and Release it all!
The Genius Child
By Langston Hughes
This is a song for the genius child.
Sing it softly, for the song is wild.
Sing it softly as ever you can —
Lest the song get out of hand.
Nobody loves a genius child.
Can you love an eagle,
Tame or wild?
Wild or tame,
Can you love a monster
Of frightening name?
Nobody loves a genius child.
Kill him – and let his soul run wild
Powerful Poem (Spoken Word) By: Janette – “I Will Wait …For You”
http://worldstarhiphop.com/videos/video.php?v=wshhKd5523f5J4yhgXiD
“A Blues For Nina”- Love Jones (Movie)
Say baby, can I be your slave
I’ve got to admit girl, you’re the shit girl
And I’m diggin’ you like a grave
Now do they call you daughter to the spinnin post, or
Or maybe Queen of 2,000 moons
Sister to the distant, yet risin’ star
Is your name Yimmy-Ya
Oh hell nah, it’s got to be Oshun
Ooo, is that a smile me put on your face child
Wide as a field of Jasmine and Glover
Talk that talk honey, walk that walk money
Hound legs that’ll spank Jehovah
Shit, who am I?
It’s not important
But they call me brother to the Night
And right now
I’m the blues in your left thigh
Tryin to become the funk in your right
Who am I?
I’ll be whoever you say
But right now, I’m the sight raped hunter
Blindly pursuing you as my prey
And I just wanna give you injections, of sublime erections
And get you to dance to my rhythm
Make you dream archaetypes, of black angels in flight
Upon wings, of distorted, contorted, metaphoric jism
Come on slim
Fuck yo’ man, I ain’t worried about him
It’s you who I wanna step to my scene
Cause rather than deal with the fallacy
Of this dry ass reality
I rather dance and romance your sweet ass, in a wet dream
Who am I?
Well they all call me brother to the Night
And right now, I’m the blues in your left thigh
Trying to become the funk in your right
Is that alright
Saul Williams: Poet/Author of The Dead Emcee Scroll (The Lost Teachings of Hip-Hop)
1987: Chapt 6
Beneath the surface of our purpose lies rumor of ancient rain.
Dressed in cloud-face, minstrels the sky.
The moon’s my mammy.
The storm holds my eye.
Dressed in westerlies.
Robed by Robeson.
Ol’ Man River knows my name.
And the reason you were born in the reason that I came.
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