socu

written for the introduction to Yoash Victorious’s Season of the Come Up EP. 
the season of the come up is not just a record. it’s not just a movement.
it’s a declaration made by the millions of minds that feel it’s their time.
too many of us have been denied what is rightfully ours
because we’re too blinded by dreams deferred and hopes devoured. 
not that we don’t have the strength within to win, 
but somewhere along the way we became cowards.
but now, we’re sick and tired of keeping our power confined in our pain. 

it’s time to unchain the change ingrained in our veins and let it rain. 
quenching the thirst of the earth, birth worth, and make it plain.
cus alterations can’t be made if our ways stay the same. 
and we can’t defy defeat if we answer to her name
I’m just sayin..
instead of tryna fix the rules, it’s time to change the game, stop playin. 
if you want to rearrange the scheme of thangs you cain.

I mean you can.
I mean you’re able to kill anything that threatens your will to survive. 
so shift your mental gear; take it out of neutral and put it in drive.
come alive! we’re kneeling

I mean pleading
I mean kneading knowing into being. 
and we’re in needing of some soldiers whose hearts are also bleeding. 
no more weeping. without seeking. a solution. 
no more distractions. 
no more insufficient reactions.
no more chit chattin without action. 
and no more actin.
as a matter of fact, retract the tracks of a change to come from your musical rack until you recognize that it’s time to make it happen. 

it’s time to rise up 
against that which falsely defines us.
time to leave behind fractured frames of mind and all the wrong done us.
time to deny the decline with which life has inclined us put up.
time to quit copying and pasting passivity; it’s time to cut up or shut up.
in other words,
it’s time for the come up.

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Weep for Me

this poem was inspired by Sam Cooke's rendition of 'Willow Weep for Me'. Its secondary inspiration is Shel Silverstein's The Giving Tree.

There once was a man named Mr. Row
Who grew up neglected, shy and alone.
Who liked peanut butter sandwiches and found exploring to be joyous,
And who’s very best friend was the wayward forest.
Life wasn’t easy for Mr. Row
Whom trouble seemed to follow everywhere he’d go.
But he never was taught how to deal with his pain
So when he felt his first sadness, he turned to the rain:

”
Rain cloud weep for me.
Release your waters upon the trees.
They’ll catch my sadness
In the hollows of their leaves,
Then send them away
To get caught in the breeze.
I’m not one to beg 
And I’m not one to plead.
But I’m imprisoned by heartbreak
And I need to be freed.
”

Now the forest was not due for rain for a while.
But the rain cloud knew Row from his days as a child.
And it never had seen the poor boy so distraught.
And against better judgement did what it thought it ought not.
The cloud full of air had no water to spare.
But it squeezed out some rain for the little one there.
The young one said “Thank you” and returned to his play.The rain cloud now wrought by its own troubling pain.

It wasn’t too long before the now grown boy fell again.But this time the wound was much much deeper in.
His sadness returned, and to nature did he.
Only this time he turned to the willow tree:

“
Willow, weep for me.
Your branches reach the river naturally.
While you’re down there, release my pain
Just this once; I won’t ask again.
I tried to ignore my broken heartbeat,
But each tear I cry takes more of my peace.
And you’re already bending so low to the earth,
Just grant me this favor and save my self-worth.
“ 

The willow listened to his logic and found it to be sound,
So it bent even lower, touched its branches to the ground.
Cracking it’s trunk as it stretched further than it should,
The willow did what no one else would.It lifted the man from his now trembling knees
Then returned to the river, ever bound for the sea.
The willow whispered gently to the waters below
A message of sorrow for his friend Mr. Row.

The river received the message and the gentleman was glad;
It seemed as if by magic he was no longer sad.
So he briefly thanked the willow and went on about his day
Leaving behind a now worn willow tree who gave a broken man his way. 

Oh, but the man had forgotten
That sadness strikes more than twice,
But he would be reminded
A little later on in life.

It didn’t seem long to the man, now old, before he experienced grief once more.
Only this was a hurt much greater than he had ever known before.
While crying he remembered the willow and the message it had delivered,
So he gathered up his heartache and sauntered to the river:

“
River, weep for me.
My tears and your waters will blend fluidly.
You’re already sending troubled waters away.
So adding mine to yours can’t be too much to pay.
I know I’ve hurt before, but it’s too much this time.
I need you to come ease the strain in my life.
I’ll nevermore ask you to pay for my sins.
Just this once and I can prepare for the next offense.
”

The river pondered long on the old man’s request.
It was moved my the tale, but wanted to do what was best.
After thinking a while, the river came to halt.
The old man was misled, but it wasn’t his fault.
So it offered him a compromise.It inhaled deeply, then released a sigh.
He looked at the man, down on his luck.
“First,” said the river, “you have to get up”.

”
Find yourself a boat, and if there isn’t one, build it;
If you want to protect your heart, then first you must shield it.
Enter the boat, and slide onto me.
Then grab your oar and take your own lead.
It’s important you lean to steer life on your own-
You’re name, after all, is Mr. Row.
Now, there will be times when you feel neglected
And things don’t go as you may have expected.
But the next time you’re hurting, don’t beg trees and the weather
Just come to me, and we can cry together”

The old man listened intently to the instructions of the river,
And smiled in his heart at what he had been given.
He built his boat and took it to the stream,
But once he returned he no longer had need
For the tears of the river, for he had none of his own-
Only contentment in having what he had been shown.
The man slid on the waters nonetheless,
To weep with the river, released from distress,
Tears of joy for having found a friend
Who had helped him to find the peace within. 

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Boundless

The world is full of haters:
facilitators of debates that have no stake in reality
whose sole purpose in life is to initiate calamity
(or so they think). Or so it seems
cus every time they open their mouths vehemence seeps out and overclouds the mounds and mountain peaks from which true wisdom speaks in an attempt to repeat the history that brought us down.
And somehow they've convinced thousands to believe these self-defeating untruths;
they're ruthless.
And all without proof they do this.
And bystanding aloof we accrue this
false information and form therefrom false identities.
No way to rewind we simply must find in ourselves the entity that makes us human and multiply it by infinity;
superhumanify the I, that is you.
Next time they try to remind you that the possible is improbable
call an audible
ya gotta know
that it's simply a lot a bull
perpetuated by the minds that guide those that blindly abide by unrevised rules
used to keep potential energy resentful of the powers that be,
not knowing if it would just move it'd prove that even the statistically unaccounted for is valuable.
Mandate it for yourself officially unallowable
the fallible ways they try to display what they say is your inability:
intrinsic militancy misplaced into anger and violence willingly.
Believe you me: appeasing the masses isn't easy,
but it also isn't always the best choice.
Have your own voice
and use it boldly.
Let who you are be enough and carry it proudly like a trophy-
a gift from God
Who saw fit for someone like you to exist
not just to sit around moping
or mope around barely coping and losing focus of your purpose when you could be running it.
Legitimate heir to the throne,
take your seat and claim your own.
You could run the show if you so desire.
Determine for yourself what the worth of your empire will be
and make it happen.
Ruler of your own destiny,
pick up your shoes and walk toward the you you were meant to be.
Figure out the role you were made to play the way only you can.
Cus at the end of the day you will be held accountable for yourself.
And if you get lost along the way, there's nothing wrong with asking for help.
So no more excuses.
Unloose yourself from the trying whining of these mindless clowns and become the real you,
self-edifying and abounding in glorious worth. Then
take a look around and admire the results of your work.
Newly unwound from the misplaced distaste and the hurt,
territory claimed and maintained with efficiency and mirth,
you realize that without someone or something trying to keep you down
you would never know the joy that comes from being finally
Unbound.

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The Memo

I fit in with me.
I'm a wonderwoman who can fly and type and rhyme all while dancing
to a beat created by none other than.. ME.
what's NOT to love??
My last Me's misery reflected in the current One's glee;
what could make you THINK for a SECOND that I somehow fail to see your idea of Me is madly incomplete?
Or that I care?
(let ME know
so I can AMEND that *ish*)
hi-writing the skyline with My pen.
insatiable hungers for that that can't be
come close when I open My head and let My mind do its thing
and it makes Me feel much better
laughter so bold it runs races with thunder and wins
live My life preaching wisdom but never forgettin My sins
the only One on whom My life depends
I lead the way for Me
in touch with Me and I like what I see
who I be was meant for Me
and I will never
leave
Myself
alone
again
*
I am important to me. Of no doing of my own, my pride rests in those that came before me. Nests in tales of revolution. Nestled near the rigid warmth of great granddaddy's voice. Simply put: needs, is, breathes, gives me history. My history. H-I is siiiiilent-ly spoken when I face my ancestors in all their glory. Retold stories of unloved lovers. Bold imploring now hidden undercover(s) of books unread because our schools have a tradition. But luckily so do I, and it proudly boasts it's mission: the not so simple task of making what should, be. I love you,
*
me. knock-knock. who's there? me. me who? me.I.she.fly C-H-A-I. N-A. chaichai, ol' girly w
the eyes? nah, the one with the hair. yeah, same chick. 5'6". not so thick, but she's got nice lips. thinks quick. nice wit. and she spits! wants to teach. smart, sweet ,and confident. old school spirit with a new school edge. gonna change the system if it leaves her dead. fellas tryna holla but she's practically wed. never turn her back on ya cus she meant what she said. and she never makes promises she can't keep. her.
she's somebody.
*
..'s somebody. Reflected in the love of another is the greatness of she, the beloved. Cherished and adored, her goal is to ensure that he knows his love is reciprocated. Never belated, they waited until the time was right. And now that's it's arrived it'll never leave their sight. Strength and might combine to unite a queen to her king revealing a love to revel the ages. Uncaged rage has nothin on this love. Raving mad sadness can keep on truckin cus this love ain't havin it. Too real is their connection. Too energized for restin, it obliterates each test and pop quiz thrown in its direction. Love muscles flexin continuously. With a presence so potent it's perplexin (but only to those who aren't as blessed). Their love's more familiar than textin, more revered than an s-marked chest. The rest may not understand it, but his love is all she needs..to know that what he sees when he admires she is incredibly unique.
*
I love creativity.
In it I see me.
'Cause it was HIS that reached into the heavens and pulled out ME!
My spirit's atmosphere-
One that rains on Its subordinate graciously.
And often.
One that covers His love patiently.
And softens
Hardened heads and harder hearts
That have been jumbled, crumbled and ripped apart,
Never believing a new start is possible
Until He appears and darts the target's goal
BULLS-EYE!
He gives us Art.
Beautiful creation that re-makes Itself seen.
Three in one, some abstract trinity,
Yes
It is a never-ending reminder of He
That makes me
Take care of me.
**
This thing can go on forever: woman proud.. woman comfortable with her for her because of her...story. Faced with the facts, no longer ignoring her herness and knowing that she is enough. Empowered and uplifted because she realizes her worth. She is the epitome of greatness, unearthed. History uplifted, actualities untwisted, misery re-gifted and mended into gold. If you weren't aware that such brilliance existed, you must have missed it, but you can consider this the memo.

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mini-me

if I could talk to little me
reveal life's secrets honestly
unravel falsehoods before they were formed
to bandage her uncut sores and shield her from unrained storms
I wouldn't

if I could speak to baby chai
undo the hurt of unteared cries
withhold the clouds so all her skies were clear with answers to her whys
and lighten the load of heavy sighs to come
I couldn't

if I were to profess to my own little miss
enlighten her on that and this
impart aged wisdom and provide a gist
of what this thing called life really is
I'd wish I hadn't

if I had to say something to the me before me
I 'd do so reluctantly
but I'll tell you what I'd say
I'd say baby,
it'll all be ok
when life goes unexpected
because even the steps that are misdirected are protected
so don't worry about what's in line
cus you're gonna turn out just fine

then I'd hug and release her
return my spirit beneath her
and let her live her life

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A Real King Knows His Worth

I have the Strength of 1,000 men running through my veins.
I’m clothed in self-assurance, so you never see me strain.
I’m oh so very confident cus my swag is well maintained.
And I live amongst the clouds; best believe I got it made.
But all you see’s my outside, so you regard me with disdain,
And ignore your own claim that to generalize is insane.
You don’t know from whence I came.
You just place me, without shame.
But you weren’t there when my brother played in his first little league game.
Or when my boy got shot just tryna catch the early train.
Or even last semester when moms changed her last name.
You just see another ‘brotha’ tryna get his claim to fame.
What you don’t see is my ability to help you through your pain.
Or the way I can take flight using words as my plane.
Or my tendency to mold mishaps til my misfortune’s rearranged.
But that’s ok.
You don’t know cus I don’t show you.
But you assume that it’s your right
To be able to look at me and see the inner fight.
Or to know my every goodness cus I think you‘re “out of sight”.
And think that one small conversation defines my bark’s bite.
I try to do things right the first time cus there’s no way to rewind it.
So forgive me if I seem rude, but there’s no way to deny it:
The me in me is untouchable; there’s no way to define it.
And just like you should, I know of my good
And the power that is behind it.
I’m not just going to give it to you; you have to find it.
Show my spirit what it means to feel right and continue to remind it.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ll still be kind.
And I’m willing to expose my mind.
All I’m trying to explain is that I want your’s too, if you want mine.
You know what the Bible says about pearls and swine.
I’m just trying to make sure what’s mine is in line.
And I expect the same from you.
It’s about self-love, not being rude.
You’ve heard it been said: “To thine own self be true”
And concentrating on pleasing you would make that very hard to do.
So I walk with an air that suggests I’m a King.
And I talk like I do because I’m a high-esteemed being.
And I act without question -or at least so it seems
Because at the end of the day I must answer to ME.
So rather than tell me what disposition I should uphold
Just try to get to know me; you’ll like what you learn.

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Shout-Out

*This is most-definately a work in progress. Just workin on some thoughts. I'm liking it so far though. Read it, tell me what you think!*
They say silence is golden, but to speak up's somethin' platinum.
Take a look around and make a shout for what is happ'nin'.
Stop for just a moment; I gaurantee it won't take long
To see all the hate, rape, debate, too-high stakes, and all the trappins.


We got.
Premature death and life without freedom.
"Limitless chances" met with challenge and confusion
We're loosin.
Sight of the goals for which we first set out
Why don't you take a look around and see what this world's REALLY about.
What good's a message if no one carries it out?
I'm one of faith but times all I'm feelin is doubt for this

World of hunger.
This shameful world of spite.
And this
Place that allows children to sleep bedless at night. Or even
Throws them away if they dont't have the right part
I Wish I was done but, hunnie, this here is just a start.

We got
Financial destitution and sick folks without Care
and
people in danger but they can't go anywhere

Then there's. Global warmin
Constant warnins
People adorin
All the wrong- the right ignorin.

Un-necessary fights
We betta get right
So that we all might
Pick up and take flight

Not just babies havin babies but what's worse they kill em too
So much judgement I don't judge ya but I wonder what you'd do
If you knew across the waters children dyin left and right
Whose mothers are in morning steady cryin day and night
Who'd do anything for freedom to have a baby boy or girl
As we fight here for freedom to kill the 'fetus'? based on choice.

Hm.

I know that's touchy. But we gotta think more large
And stop bein so self-centered callin other folks bizarre

Maybe once we just take folks for what they are
We'll have better understanding here at home and abroad

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