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Street poetry is defined as:

Is a form of urban poetry which is characterized by its use of slang and/or use of language that is traditionally used by oppressed people or small groups;

Extracted from Urban dictionary





Friday, February 10, 2012

Balance

Searching a meaning in suffering, sinking deep into the pool, into the dark lake, searching for something, something deep in the abyss, leaving happiness for a moment, sleeping in the cave of desires, lying in winter's bed, frozen but still warm, a tiny pin ray of light, like a thread of cloth in a dark room, waiting for the passing of winters doom, awaiting the light of spring, the darkness dusted away like dandruff, callus heels from walking on ground that is rough, understanding the meaning of pain and joy, not questioning it but learning from it, knowing that perception has many edges like an uncut blood diamond, in this day and age we need a larger scope, a bigger paint brush, the canvas got bigger, the permutations are endless, zodiac signs everywhere, unevoled not giving a care, but the balance must come back, too much tugging and pulling, not enough giving and sharing, the balance must return, only the perfect combination, the avatar, the balance.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Desire

It seemed like it was all planned, farmed humans, cattle raised and fed, and led into the belief that we all can make it, but of course the pay off is debt, what a twisted world, and we are all in a twirl, lost in the emptiness of these materials, a rush of the moment, only to be forgotten in the dust of the shelves, a promise of a generation, led to a destruction of another, with everybody fighting for the last scraps, the students are the ones that get it bad, the future, the mover, the grower, the family, all delayed by the shackles of debt, and it is next to death, universities have become a business, while people stay ignorant of its true meaning, they do not educate but rather filter out and leave the rest at the gate, professors recycle and reciprocate philosophies that segregate, in truth they repeat what has been done to them, a filtering process, but no one really sees, no one really wants to know, they just turn a blind eye to the seeds that they've sown, watching the bad apples grow, ask them the truth and all they say is cold words, heart frozen from dead principles, programmed answers, but I still stay strong a midst of the storm, even when there seems to be no hope, lighting the dope fire, day by day eliminating desire..
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