The Blueprint

We are not together,
Never was and possibly never will be,
But who knows we'll see,
I'm holding on to the possibility of maybe,

But only God knows,
In her smile God shows,
Out her mouth God breathes,
And in her eyes she shows me how God see's,

Hair like the sun of God,
Skin tone like his too,
Worth more than the title of "boo",
But currently holds the name "friend" better than any other female,

And speaking of any other female,
I compare every other female to her,
She's the blueprint,
God's architectual team blessed me with these papers to mold someone just like you,
Except 3 ex-girlfriends later these blueprints have fallen short of success,

Actually to be honest with you,
While spending all this time finding someone like you,
I wish I used it to build the strength to tell you that: "I love you & all I really want is you",

My blueprint, my rough draft, my model,
So perfectly sketched out,
Tree's in rain forests everywhere long to be chopped down,
And turned into the number 2 pencils used to draw out something almost as perfect as you,

I say almost because I like a girl with flaws,
It let's me know she's human,
Just like me,
Although at times I feel that we,
Are in tuned together on a different planet,
Because we make it a habbit, to stand out.

My blueprint, my rough draft, my model,
So perfectly sketched out,
I wish these other broads could figure out,
How to be just like you,
They've came close but at the end of the day they're just not you,

And its just not cool,
That I can go to kinkos and copy a news paper article,
But I can't take you and duplicate another chronicle, for me to enjoy,

This way I can have you as a friend,
As well as you as a lover,
So if shit goes wrong with one I still have the other,
And I know it sounds selfish but its a win-win situation for me,
I want you both because I'm stubborn,

I would hang out with you throughout the day, go shopping with you so you can help me pick something out real nice for another girl,
But in reality the other girl is you,

My blueprint, my rough draft, my model,
So perfectly sketched out,
I can't help but think out loud when your around,
So when you hear me mumble "I love you" & "all I want is you" just know I didn't studdar,
Thoughts of you got my mind cluttered I can't even hold them all in,
So I don't,

So why not cut the bullshit,
Make this poem irrelevant,
And start over,
Okay so here I go...
"I love you" & "all I want is you. The end."

Future

"Future"

As hour glasses everywhere go to sleep with full stoumachs,
Its a reminder to us that our time has ran out,
And its impossible to plan out,
A perfect plan planned out without knowing the future.

Since we will forever play hide n seek with the future,
When will we realize we will never have a turn to hide,
Because what I realized is we will never find the future before the future comes out from its hiding place.

Although as we look up and see our stars are lined perfectly like militant students,
The truth is, that doesn't matter.

And even if our song comes on coincidentally every time we turn on the radio,
The truth is, that doesn't matter either.

And you can say "I love you" to me everytime you see me,
And I can reply back the same 3 words,
And in those moments you feel like Gods upstairs doing interviews for a wedding planner to send down to us,
Still, the truth is, that doesn't matter.

Now the question is "what does?",
Well, what matters is faith,
Its the basis of many R-words,
Like relationship & religion just to name a few,
And those aren't just R-words,
Their "our words",

But without faith and trust,
There's no future in us,
But there's a "us" in "trust",
"Must", "focus", and "house".

We must focus on trust so we can build a happy home,
And must not let any interferances through our o-zone layer that surrounds the little happy world we reside in called "us".

I have a better chance tryna finance heaven for you than predicting where this road will take us,
Just as long as we don't hit a dead end or a fork in the road I can promise you we'll be okay,
So together let's live today,
Say goodbye to yesturday,
And embrace what tomorrow has in store.

And whatever you do,
Don't be afraid of the future,
Because regardless of what happens between me and you,
Just know it was God's plan.


END.

I want my rib back.

"I want my rib back"

Everytime I hear mention of her name its like Goliath rang me out like a wet towel,
It twists and turns my spine,
And no its not fine,
Because her name brings one of the worse feelings in the world to my mind.

And sight of her is much worse,
Not as pleasurable as medusa's "turn into stone" curse,
Hers is more like a "slide your heart down a cheese graider" curse.

I take that back,
It doesn't feel that good.

Her sight is more like,
An attractive disaster,
Like walking into the most beatiful but fatal tornado you've ever seen.

And my rib cage sings,
A wonderful symphony and,
Cries and sorrows knowing that the rib that was taken from me and adam was turned into something like her.

I've never been so confused in my entire life,
Because in all honestly she's beautiful completely,
She used to complete me,
Now she compete's with satan to spiritually defeat me.

And quite frankly, I think she's got him out numbered,
So imagine how doomed my heart is,
She's the opposite of an artist,
She does ugly things on accident,
Because its just in her design.

I feel like if you asked this misfit,
What she wants for christmas,
She'll reply "I want the mark of the beast inserted in both wrists.

Along with the wardrobe of a tribe of masons,
Complexion of a gargoyle,
And a death mask with interchangable faces."

She's simply evil,
But simply perceived as,
Eyes, theighs and ass,
Guys have died in ash
And burning inferno's,
just to get inside her internal
Sexual burn hole
But only to come out with 3rd degree burns internally,
And scared for life for all of eternity.

How could something so sacraficial as a man's rib that in it self is a blessing from God,
Turn into something as evil as a temple that holds her thoughts at large.

I wish God will take her back,
And cast her away into the furthest lake of fire known to the universe,
And after he does that,
I want my rib back,
I want a 2nd chance at a 2nd glance at a woman created from my rib that,
Is from heaven this time,
And not a fallen angel with a pointy tail comming out of her behind.

I want my rib back.


END.

Cupid is a terrorist

"Cupid is a Terrorist"


Seein her was like hitting the lottery,
Cupid didn't shoot me with his arrow,
He pulled out an AK and slaughtered me.
He ripped out my heart and handed it to her along with my artery,
And punctured my lung so breathing regularly is hard to me.

And if that's not enough he disabled my vocabulary,
With the exception of 3 words.
So not only do I studdar like nervous nerds,
But I'm blank for adjectives and verbs,
And all I can say is "I love you" for our very first words.

And normally my eyes are brown,
But he also ripped out my pupils and replaced them with red hearts,
And instead of hip-hop instrumentals in my head I hear harps.

Cupid altered my route from LA transit line,
To cloud 9,
With a sign, that read "maximum capacity 2 persons"... her and I.

But I don't really mind,
Because it would be an understatement to state that she's fine.
And the mindstate that's in line,
With me and her to me is just fine.

And thanks to cupid he got me squashing my own grapes just to make her a home made glass of wine.

I look at her so deeply that I can't help but have glossy eyes,
And I know it may sound psycho but sometimes I cry,
Because cupid got me on her so tough that if she needed a body part I would definately donate mine.

The sad thing is its only 11am and I've only known her since 9,
But these past 2 hours have been the time of my life,
And to any other woman that walks by I have blind eyes.

Isn't cupid great!?,
And thanks to him I'll probably lose my job, car and home for her,
I'm in the zone for her,
I'm about to purchase a mobile home,
So wherever she moves I won't be too far from home to her.

And when she's at work I'll clean up her home for her,
Walk the dog and wash her car for her,
And maybe get a new job so I can buy a ring and by this afternoon I could get on one knee and purpose to her.

And they can pronounce us Mr and Mrs by sun down,
I feel like cupid threw me the ball,
I caught it and just scored a touchdown.

Now, all of this sounds good but I don't think its a good thing,
I just went broke, lost my mind and bought her a wedding ring,
And she don't even know my last name let alone my first one,
And I'm already thinking of baby names before she even gives birth to one.

How could cupid ruin my life like this,
And make me live a life like this,
He bruised and cut my heart up with his knife and fist,
And added my name to a sheet of paper that reads "the poor pathetic soul list".

Damn cupid is a terrorist.

END.

Bi-Polar

"Bi-Polar"

I was so pleased to meet you,
But you never told me 2 months down the line when I speak to you,
That you'll have 2 more personalities beneath you,

Its unfortunate because your so easy to speak to,
All 3 of you, but two of you were uneasily seen and see through.

If I wasn't so sprung off your face when your smile's up,
I would of seen all your personalities pile up,
And its a lot of you's that pile up,
I could probably measure all your personalities a mile up.

And it sucks because I was starting to like you,
Not the other two, just specifically the nice you.

I wonder if when your mom was in labor, did it feel like she was pushing out triplets,
Consisting of you, and your other two personality misfits.

I just wish you would miss me with the bullshit,
And push your other two personalities off a cliff,
Get rid of them, make them non-exist,
Or at least warn dudes about them when game they start to spit.

Idunno what you change more, denim or attitudes.
You got acrobatic moods, that flip back n forth from lack of appreciation to showing gratitude.

One day your pleasantly nice,
The next day your acting rude,
In a jurrasic park type of mood,
Please get me off this island and
Away from your prehistoric attitude.

But God forbid me to come home from work with a bad attitude,
And act a fool,
Then you'll look at me funny like I broke one of God's commandment rules.

I'm tired of your double standards and rules,
I only signed up to be nice to you,
Not the other two,
Personalities that belong to you.

I'm sick and tired of you,
I wish all three of you,
Would go sit down, shut up, and
Think about all the crap you put me through.

Then turn the tables and think about if it was me snappin back at you,
Complaining about your hats and shoes,
And tellin you when and where you should wear them then laugh at you.

Because your not formal enough,
I guarantee soon you'll erupt,
And explode all your emotions on me
Like junk piled up
On the back of a garbage truck.

Now I'm no doctor, so I couldn't tell you what your problem is,
But I'm not stupid either,
Your not slow, dumb, mental neither,
Nor are you in pain from a cavity filled molar,
Quite frankly I just think your Bi-Polar.

END

Just don't say I didn't warn you

"Just don't say I didn't warn you."

Awww damn, you don't listen do you,
I told you what this poem could potentially do to you.
I told you if I wrote one about you,
There's a possibility I might be spending lots of time around you.

Wordplay is my name for a reason,
And my words can make you feel warm all year
like if summer was 4 seasons.

And I gotta write this poem to perfection,
Make sure every line flows and is corrected, and connected correctly.

And when I read it on stage I gotta bring the energy,
Like a 18 wheeler givin a jump start to a power wheels.

Its gotta be energetic,
Also everything has to be copestetic,
This poem will open up your heart as long as you let it,

But don't try to dead it or behead it,
You know you've loved my wordplay since the first day that you met it.

So don't front girl just let it,
Happen like it should happen,
And the audience's applause means nuthin unless ur in the front row clappin.

Because your hand clap matches the pulse of my heart,
How long have I been feeling you?
Of course since the start,

Of my open mic career two months before march,
Thats when I first seen that smile of yours perfectly arched.

And I know you might be used to compliments,
But I'm equiped with poetic confidence,
Your parents named you after one of the 7 continents,
Because your more important than any country, state or providence.

I'm tryin to tell you what my words can do to you,
My romantic metaphors can lyrically put the move on you,
Now I'm not tryna intrude on you,
Niether am I tryna sound rude to you

But when I write this poem that's meant for you,
My pen resembles your tears and my paper is me cause I'm there for you.

So that would make us sweet poetry,
And just know its me,
That will write you poems untill our skin wrinkles slowly,
And our hair looks like we walked outside when its snowing.

And I'll write you sweet rhymes,
Untill the end of time,
For you I'll keep my pen moving its only logical,
Untill I use up every word sequence possible.

I'll write you poetry,
Untill arthiritis takes over me,
Untill carpal tunnel gets a hold of me,
And untill you can no longer operate your ovaries.

I hope this poem does the opposite of scorn you.

And when I write it,
Just don't say I didn't warn you.

END.

Any river, any road

"Any river, any road"


Its no coincidence,
That her AIM screen name starts with an A and sits at the top of the list.
Because ironically,
I hold her above any other girl.
So it sits perfectly right where it is.

And just like in real life when I wanna send her a message,
I don't gotta search for her.
Finding her is like goin to church for word,
They're both right in front of my face ready for me to embrace to her.

Although she lives in a different area code,
The petro I pump in my gas tank is priceless though.
Because it gets me to where I need to be,
And all I need for a round trip is a quarter tank exactly.

And I don't care if a round trip took 3 whole tanks,
I would rob 3 big banks,
Give the teller 3 swift shanks,
If she's tryna stand in between me and my sweetheart,
Trust me I pull no pranks.

If I had to, I would put on some track shoes,
And run any distance lance armstrong rides his bike through.

And I wouldn't need any rest breaks or water,
And this I blame on her fathers daughter,
Because she got me on her,
Like my name tattoo'd right below the scar that's on her.

And my name that's on her is not commin off of her,
Kuz I'm gonna be with her way longer,
Than the time it takes for our great grand daughters,
To see their great grand daughter's prosper.

I would walk a 3 mile long tight rope with water underneath me,
Full of sharks and aligators beneath the sea,
If that's what it took for me to see my sweetie,
Even if its just briefly.

You may ask what's so great about this girl?
Well I don't know of what girl you speak about,
Kuz I'm talkin about an Angel that plays the harp out loud,
And has a full time job as a receptionist for heaven's gates.

And everytime she see's me its heaven she escapes,
I just hope God doesn't notice the beatiful angel that takes long lunch breaks,
Away from answering the phones at heaven's gates.

I would swim the whole Nile river if I had to,
And I would do 6 laps too,
If that's what it took for me to surpass through,
The distance between me and my girls latitude.
And she appreciates me, we don't have sex with condoms,
we have sex with gratitude.

And I don't impregnate her with sperm,
I impregnate her with the word "Learn",
Because I fill her with so much knowledge that it hurts.


That's why for her I would travel any river, any road.


END.