Monday, May 30, 2011

Message to the Messengers

Today I thought it only fitting to pay tribute to the Great Gil Scott-Heron who passed the weekend.He was a legend and his spirit lives on. To all Mcees,writers,poets,artist,and all creative beings "keep the nerve" and keep Gil Scott-Heron Alive....(April 1, 1949 – May 27, 2011)
and remember "The Revolution Will Not Be televised" as it lives and breaths inside you.

R.I.P Gilbert "Gil" Scott-Heron (April 1, 1949 – May 27, 2011)



Message to the Messengers
Gil Scott-Heron


Hey, yeah, we the same brothas from a long time ago
We was talkin' about television and doin' it on the radio
What we did was to help our generation realize
They had to get out there and get busy cause it wasn't gonna be televised
We got respect for you rappers and the way they be free-weighin'
But if you're gon' be teachin' folks things, make sure you know what you're sayin'
Older folks in our neighborhood got plenty of know-how
Remember if it wasn't for them, you wouldn't be out here now
And I ain't comin' at you with no disrespect
All I'm sayin' is that you damn well got to be correct
Because if you're gonna be speakin' for a whole generation
And you know enough to try and handle their education
Be sure you know the real deal about past situations
It ain't just repeatin' what you heard on the local TV stations
...Sometimes they tell lies and put 'em in a truthful disguise
But the truth is that's why we said it wouldn't be televised
They don't know what to say to our young folks, but they know that you do
And if they really knew the truth...why would they tell you?
The first sign is peace, tell all them gun totin' young brothas
That the man is glad to see us out there killin' one another
We raised too much hell when they was shootin' us down
So they started poisoning our minds tryin' to jerk us all around
And then they tell us they got to come in and control our situation
They want half of us on dope and the other half in incarceration
If the ones they want dead ain't killed by what they instigated
They put some dope on a brotha's body and claim it was drug related
Tell them drug related means there don't need to be no investigation
Or at least that's the way they're gon' play it on the local TV stations
All your 9-millimeter brothas...give them somthin' to think about
Tell them you heard that this is the new word, they got to work that stuff out
But somehow they feel in the wrong way with a gun in their hands
They feel real independent...but they just pullin' contracts for the man
Five and five will tell you it's hopeless out there on the avenue
But if they really knew the truth...why would they tell you?
And if they look at you like you're insane
And they start callin' you scarecrow and say you ain't got no brain
Or start tellin' folks that you suddenly gone lame
Or that white folks had finally co-opted your game
Find More lyrics at www.sweetslyrics.com
Or worse yet implying that you don't really know...
That's the same thing they said about us...a long time ago
Young rappers, one more suggestion before I get out of your way
But I appreciate the respect you give me and what you got to say
I'm sayin' protect your community and spread that respect around
Tell brothas and sistas they gotta calm that bullshit down
Cause we're terrorizin' our old folks and brought fear into our homes
And they ain't got to hang out with the senior citizens
Just tell them, “Dammit...leave the old folks alone”
And we know who rippin' off the neighborhood, tell them, “That BS has got to stop!”
Tell them you're sorry they can't handle it out there
But they got to take the crime off the block
And if they look at you like you're insane
And they start callin' you scarecrow and say you ain't got no brain
Or start tellin' folks that you suddenly gone lame
Or that white folks had finally co-opted your game
Or worse yet saying that you really don't know...
That's the same thing they said about me a long time ago
And if they tell folks that you finally lost your nerve
That's the same thing they said about us, when we said, “Johannesburg”
But I think the young folks need to know, that things don't go both ways
You can't talk respect on every other song or just every other day
What I'm speakin' on now is the raps about the women folks
On one song she's your African Queen on the next one she's a joke
And you ain't said no words that I haven't heard, but that ain't no compliment
It only insults eight people out of ten and questions your intelligence
Four letter words or four syllable words won't make you important
It'll only magnify how shallow you are and let everybody know it
And if they look at you like they think you insane
Or they call you scarecrow thinkin' you ain't got no brain
Or start tellin' folks that you suddenly gone lame
Or that white folks have finally co-opted your game
Or you really don't know...They said that about me a long time ago
If they finally start to tell people that you lost your nerve
That's what they said about Johannesburg
You ain't insane...you have got a brain
You haven't gone lame; you have got your game
Remember...keep the nerve
Keep the nerve
Keep the nerve
Keep the nerve
...I'm talkin' about peace

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Love in Technicolor
Les-T (da Last Souljah)



I want to paint my canvas
In the color of your smile
Sit back and watch it for a while
Like an orange sunset
Feels like the day we just met
Remember
It was crimson, purple, and deep red
You wore the color of the sun on your head
Do you remember the color we heard?
It was burnt-amber
With a touch of yellow
A hint of pink
That made everything mellow

I want to paint my canvas
In the color of your smile
Sit back and watch it for a while
Let the colors merge
The green, the blues
Burnt amber, the crimson deep red,
The sunset orange!
To form the color of my love

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Again it stares at me

Blessed Souls

Happy Africa Day to all Africans and all who have been dispersed through out the world
stay black

Love Peace Happyness

2009/05/12

Again it stares at me
As religiously as it always does
Begging for truth and honesty
The white background
Purely unblemished
Seeking substance
From a hollow man
Seeking understanding
Where it can

As her big brown eyes
Catch my pen’s attention
And her lips beg
For my affection
Painstakingly finding
A way to my art
Her words paving
A way to my heart

And I sit there helpless
As much of a victim
As a suicide bomber
That never had a final prayer
But wrote Ode’s to his rebirth
…now I have to be
A true mind down to earth
Admit defeat in the eyes
Of a black princess

For what is written
Is more true
Than what is said
Carries more weight
In my hands
So I carry it
With both hands
And give a voice to my heart

That organ
We attribute feeling to
And let it sing
Let it sing
Let it sing
Because the hand
Has already betrayed it
And the lips
With every kiss said it
So let my heart sing

Let my heart sing
And with every pen stroke
A heart beat
Let my heart sing
The song cupid
Placed in a poet’s heart
Let my heart sing

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

(Untitled) while at Horror cafe

Blessed souls

this is the second poem that was requested i hope those of you who are reading this for the first time feel it. and dont forget to subscribe to my blog by simply typing your e-mail address above and click submit. i will not be boring you with mundane things. this blog is about poetry and art...and that is all you will get. without further wasting you time.....Enjoy

Love Peace Happyness
Les-T


Untitled (while at horror café)

Les-t

I was sitting right there
Like every Tuesday night
Listening to poets recite
These inspiring thoughts
That keep bringing us here
Like sheep to the sound of a shepherd’s voice
Ants congregating around spilt sugar
Listening to images that haunt their sleep
And say they are deep

I was right there
When these wolves in sheep’s clothes
Ripped the essence out of her
And displayed it on the walls
Of a Joubert park flat stairway
While they in suits and ties
Repeatedly thrust their manhood inside her
I was sitting right there
Applauding and cheering you on
As you spit these lines about windows
This other brother inspired by his cell phone
Hurry up
You breaking
Hurry up
You breaking
These images haunt my sleep

He grabbed her by the throat
While the other one took off his coat
Cleared his throat
She searched for compassion
Within their eyes
And found nothing but ice
They were not human
These beasts
These sick bastards
Contracted by everything evil
They could’ve been demons
For all I care
Life is not fair
This angelic being
I almost called a wife
Now tainted with Lucifer’s seed
Her womanhood violated
By her brothers from another mother
While I was listening
To a poem about a failed father
And this sister with an enchanting voice
That sang about choice
While she captured the stage
And made it hers
They came inside her
Left their marks so deep
These images haunt my sleep

I was sitting right there
Hypnotised by the words that you speak
Inspired to come out of the bedroom
And step on stage and scream
Poetry is my life
While I was sitting right there
These animals raped my wife

Now we lie awake at night
And dress our wounds in tears
Hoping all will be all right
Even my touch arouses her fears

Shall I continue to write?
Or throw away my pen in fright
Rage and fight
No matter what I might
These images will still haunt my sleep

Love is a Rabid Dog

Blessed souls

A good friend of mine insisted on a couple of poems that i should put up. And this is one of them.

Love, Peace, Happyness

Les-T


2009/04/16
Les-T (da last Souljah)



Love is a rabid dog
From hell
That bites all in sight
Ripping soul from limb
Heart from reason
Leaving all diseased
With this infectious curse
Love is a Pink hearse
That leads all men
To their untimely end
Spiritually
Emotionally
Literally
Or otherwise
Love is you neighbor’s
Old rusted car
You always wonder
Why he still keeps
Love is that
Patched up doll
With one leg
That we just can’t
Throw out
In hope
That one day
We’ll find
That missing leg
And all
Will be alright

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

night life confessions

good day all

i wont bore you with jibber-jabber....here is the piece for today. to get regular updates enter you e-mail address above and click submit...its that easy. and its for free

Night life confessions

Les-T(da last Souljah)
If darkness could talk
Spill the beans
On what happens behind trees
At the toilets in bars
Or in dark alleys inside parked cars
No one ever talks about what happens
Behind open bottles
Or the whispers muffled by the sound system
Or what he said to convince her to come with him
How much semen she has seen and tasted
How many bodies the night has seen wasted
The night should be number one on the witness stand
It knows who dragged who and who left hand in hand
Who said yes and who went in with no protection
And is a choir member of your church congregation
Who said I love you just so he can penetrate, wait
Who believed it and who really just didn’t give a fck
Who is doing it for the first time and who is the regular weekend slut
The night knows who is drunk and who is high on something
Who wakes up in the middle of the night to write
Who is inspired and who is just hot wired
The night knows whose sht is real
And who you shouldn’t really feel

Monday, May 16, 2011

the root of her pain

Good morning All

I am glad blogger is up and running ... i thought we should all get a little aquainted. i have selected a few of my earlier work to put as a lot of you are not yet familiar with my work...

i hope you enjoy your journey through my mind....

The root of her pain

Les-T
I watched her cry
Traced the dry tears on her cheeks
They took me through one hell of a week
My thoughts made me seem meek
As I journeyed her pain
I wasn’t a driver but a passenger on this train
As it took me back to her delicate chin again
Went up passed those lips that I so often kiss
But something was amiss
She wore a frown I couldn’t crown with a kiss
She spoke words I couldn’t make out on my own
Like bottles, lip stick, used condoms
Messages on my phone
Her tears fell like the summer’s rain
As I search for the story behind her pain

I watched her cry
And I knew it wasn’t me
As I traced the dry tears on her cheek
They took me through one hell of a week
What I saw made me feel sick
How a heart can be made real weak
By a thousand uncertainties in one week
A dozen I don’t knows in one night
It wasn’t me is all I say when we fight
Her light skin cheeks turned red from the crying
I get upset and start writing
The truth sounds like a lie
As I journey up her cheek towards her eye
To peek through the window of her soul
The one soul that makes me feel whole
I hope her tears don’t start to flow
While I seek the root of her pain
I stand and stare deep in her eyes
To find out what it could be
But to my surprise
The root of her pain is me