enter search.
in search of islands to hide, feel safe,
to take as an escape, to put away the fear
of falling apart.
in search of secrets to know with certainty,
to try to understand, to place myself
on top of clouds.
in search of a heart to hear my call,
to whisper words, to place all faith in
during my prayers.
in search of love, in search of love,
delusions, realities that cannot be seen, that do not exist?
03.15.02.
don’t try selling me.
poetry grew out of a personal poverty, an isolated,
confused identity.
not trying to be a corporate entity,
so don’t try selling me (none of yo’ shit on tv)
into state sponsored slavery.
buy, sell, buy me, sell me.
but ain’t got no money or anything of value,
but notebooks and ideas.
guess, i’m closed for transactions.
pray the stock market don’t crash.
hope your stock doesn’t drop,
(please, don’t invest in me)
and that your credit card don’t bounce,
so that the check still goes through.
seems such a trap, only working for money
to buy all the things that everyone’s selling.
label me lazy, but rather be here, sleeping.
11.13.02.
UP!::urban po'E.Tree(s) 