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The Trap

If you ride the Brooklyn bound A train in Manhattan...

Blank stares on the A train
I recognize this too completely
Express stops to nowhere 
Where expressions can live freely 
And the train is packed 
so there's no room for healing 
what we're dealing with here. 
It's called new yorker syndrome. 
Out of towners are perplexed by 
The emptiness such a lit city can bring home.
Their accents, questions and lack 
of direction makes our ears ring. 
They don't understand us
They know that we are free 
While we fear they'll reprimand us 
For feeling free enough to agree that 
A little while back new York 
fucked up the family tree that 
brings us all together, and we're 
Losing hopes due to the note that 
we might have fucked up forever
We don't mind our own endeavors enough 
To hide the disdain because 
It costs us to breathe
We often don't complain because 
the garners had it worse and 
Their hearts may never be at ease 
under a ruler that will never be pleased 
(If so are we...)
And we know this cuz we're "WOKE." 
Trapping from one job to the next
to avoid the choke when it's time 
to pay those dues 'for we go BROKE!!! 
For now we're just broken, 
afraid our scars will bust wide open 
regardless of the countless scar tissue
that render our hearts unspoken while...
Outspoken lie no secrets, 
they live deep within the creases of this thesis
and though I'm sure that ALL 
will read this, 
I pray that only WE see this - 
He who's past the contemplation
of breaking his barriers down for the last time...
She who prays to one of those gods that claim
"If you prey every day, your soul wont die."

He who's lost in a spell
that propels in a well 
Of this HELL we drink carelessly 
(red wine)
And the more that we sip, 
we continue to slip 
and the flavor of this... it tastes just fine.

be continued... and trust me it'S NOT entirely morbid, it brightens all the way up! 


The Dopest Ones

Song of The Week - "Number Two" By Chadd Downing

I've been listening closely to this amazing artist from Trenton, NJ, Chadd Downing. I'm in love with several tracks on his mixtape "PMFL" but this "Number Two" track produced by Hannibal King is just what the doctor ordered. For a hip hop/rap loving poetry enthusiast like myself, it captivates the essence. Take a quick listen and tell me what you think. Then, feast your ears to the rest of his dopeness on



Blue Moons and Fashion

Stare at your reflections like you're staring into brightness. In a dimly little room say "greatness (patient) waits to bite this." Our fear allowed me to write this so my voice can try and recite this so that wonderful dreams and what lover won't see make an impact enough to ignite this. If you like this, your heaven excites this. If you're "woke" you could never despise this. Our thrones and abilities naturally grow, our mental agility rises...  ... and the sky is where our high is. Anyone else's being where mine is? Are we blind? Is lack of kindness raising numbers in crisis like time is? Is it temporary, is it timeless? the pollution has rendered us blinded. Could we ever abuse or get used to the blues if our mindlessness leads to deny this? So I close my eyes and I find this alarm only goes off when the time is to speak of what I know in a poetic form and just pray that one soul could enlighten... ...til then, blue m


In my mind i have a Visual Of all of my residuals The mess that i have made Love CAN be individual! I never try to escape it I try to cast no fears And every time I fall again My soul just drowns in tears. I wear my claws out on my sleeves So you could See it coming And don't you hide Behind those eyes Or think that you'll be running. I don't relate to evil But the world is far from safe, And til I head back home I need a love I could embrace One with good intention, One with no expectation. One that results happiness And much consideration. A love so strong it's concrete An abstract work of art, An accident engraved itself Directly in my heart. My heavy thoughts - apocalyptic They hide inside These thoughts so cryptic It's far from normal, Destiny brought this It's project lovebot, MY synopsis With Love, P. 

Twenty-Fine "Queen"

Photo: Jamaal Clark  visit IG page Model/Muse: Pea Medina  visit IG page What makes you "queen"?  Is it an imaginary place in your own game of thrones,  or that stare of stone from above your cheekbones  that let the entire world just know?  Is it inside of your pupils that lie countless miles of self worth  since you've #broken down the walls of a curse  that for lifetimes caused you some necessary hurt?  Were you ready to convert into the woman that  on this day they stare in the face with such grace?  Like the best wine that took it's sweet while to get that fine,  you've developed a lasting taste only authenticity can define. You have to have been there to see it-  done all these years with me to believe it  when TIME was the only remedy that churned this  self love, so divine.  So a toast just for you, twenty-nine. 

Elements Of The Bot Week III (Part 1)

deadlines, contracts, #projectlovebot... all on my mind.  Today's Agenda. Where's my Chai Latte?  I'm gonna make this. An idea. =)  =)  double =) =)  Mitochondria, The Foundation. 

Edgar Allan

Acrylic Paint on a 16"x 24" Canvas By Pea Medina Instagram

New Poem Coming Soon