Senior Signoff Pt 2

The next episode in my "sayonara" to secondary school came at a time where those closest to me were experiencing a surge in emotional growth. A constant ebb and flow of feelings for significant others, kept them from floating towards each other. Someone always had something to say about everything they did. He, was just a boy thinking with both heads, allowing temptation to take its course on a heart of good will. She, was just a girl, trying to let go of her not so distant past; regretful of the fact that she grew up way too fast. He wanted to give her a reason not to regret...but she let the "he say, she say" drown him out.

Observing all of this, I was coming into my own with writing. Being able to relate with all of the life that was going on all around me, made it much easier to transcribe. I began to make understanding with the love, hate, and confusion that all came apart of with those teenage years. Which kinda explains why I had less of a role in this episode. I analyzed way more than I acted. I was far behind my peers in the initiation of curiosity, but in one short year, I did a hell of a lot of catching up.

But, I've said too much.

Dated May 16, 2007

This is part 2, from me 2 U…Animosity Reigns Supreme…Thanks to Willie da Kid’s Invisible Rules freestyle for the soundtrack…that song speaks, so do I…

The first time around we separated the real from the fakers
Sadly I gotta tell myself and others, WE LET SPRING BREAK US!!
Glitter failed to turn to gold, couple’s hearts turned cold Dry Ice, stayed in the freezer, didn’t bother melt or mold
Close friends turned into “we who must not be named”
He or she said what? Told y’all to stop playing them games!
Let the words change y’all but they never change me
Listeners, let the stanzas explain, (clear throat) you see:

I arrived to AcapulcHome, playin Madden and liftin weights
Packed 10 points in three quarters, eatin too many steaks
Lost it all, but I digress, thinking too much brought me stress
Past memories turned into words, nothing more, nothing less
On my part, P’s Guiding Light helps me see through the dark
Express the feelings with inky pistols, never gotta hide my heart
But that particular magic that helped me see so much
Also sparked others to, grab out, reach, and touch
Bic’s new Virginia Tech locked in the dresser drawer
No feelings spared or tempers flared, we became iron ore:
Strong. I appreciate the comments, thanks very much
I made a diva shed a tear, nigga that what’s up
More accomplished writers who were stuck behind its block
Resurrected from dark caves, removed the Plymouth Rock
Nostalgia reigned as the theme of the mind and the heart
But arrows of creative emotion were seen as envious darts

“Why take shots at me when I’m shootin’ rounds with you!!!”
Never let an individual’s feelings just empty out and hit ooh---
That was all we heard before the brief war of words, horrible timin’
Comments from the heart and on art destroyed peace’s hymen
Shields of emotion soon began to break
And then mere expression became the big debate
Those hurt thought the initial purpose was trying to teach
She merely exercised First Amend, the freedom to preach
Which one, doesn’t matter, both birds of a feather
Found RARE common ground on which they could stand together
The piece of land was rather tattered, really didn’t matter much
Hands were briefly held together; rid themselves of a mess, and such
Action came at the price of one’s particular ridicule
She mainly kept lukewarm, never really reached cool
Never permitted them to take her L, even though she failed to prevail
As long as she remained high on the shelf of one she can never bail
She shouldn’t regret her position, yet decision not to remains flawed
Meanwhile, as days passed all the ice dissolved and thawed
Paths continue to cross, yet all that speaks is intense glare
Never confront, act as usual, and pretend friendship’s there…

To escape from the absence of com sense, I sleep; try to get my Z-Z-Z-Z-Zs
Abstract dreams get replace with thoughts of B-B-B-B-B
Butcher, ain’t even make her pay, she stole slices of the heart
The best piece of the puzzle, like a walk in the park
Thought she could just take it, and keep on her way
Little did she know, I stopped by the shop that day
Prime cuts of connection and affection, if you will
Wasn’t concerned with the price, it was all worth the bill
Express Ya, Express Ya, Undress the Express Ya
Reluctant to worry, I’ma takes it straight home like Dev Hester
But as the sands of the hourglass diminish with time
I learn that she’ll never B—I can’t finish the line
Won’t address it furthermore, noses try to decipher
Our heat keep us away from y’all cold, she threw away the de-icer

Hey Look! Mr. Lonely, a.k.a. Not So Incognito
Returns in the sequel as “THE ABRASIVE NEGRO!”
After a brief hiatus, he’s back again!
To NikeTalk ‘bout those he needs, and disgrace the men
The two beautiful poets that preceded these lines
Tap-danced on his brain, circa Gregory Hines
He couldn’t handle the pressure, he had lost his clout
Boosied to his often used last resort, Bitch Out!
Cowardice ran amuck when he failed to make amends
Down and out he took shits on some female friends
His regrets struck the innocent like a knife through the heart
When the love lost pain could only be counted on his part
Meanwhile, as he lashes out, his own bond begins to suffer
They battle with each other, Ready to Rumble like Michael Buffer
Verbal abuse slaughters her fragile sculpture
She feels alone in life’s desert, circled by Hate’s vulture
It closes in to peck at her dignity, slow but sure
Until a soldier of fortune attempts to preserve the pure
The king of dynasties, 40/40s and such
Attempted to rule over a kingdom which proved to be too much
Express Ya, Express Ya, Undress the Express Ya
Relieve her of his garments; she’s reluctant to let ya
They were once two, now one plus the other
Many questions remain unanswered, we must ask Mother…

The king abdicated the throne he could never call home
He remained homeless, couldn’t return to his own
You see he left a twister, whirlwind of emotions
Lost sweet number nine, also known as Love Potion
From Lavish Love now Vindictive Vendetta
From living Lavish again to the Tumultuous Twentieth Letter
A kingdom of Black Boys and Black Girls lost
Fueled off of Feelings, we remain absent of Thought
Gloomy we don’t head towards Magic City
We settle for the bullshit at Club Pain and Pity
When Time gets the strippin’, all we have left is the naked Truth
Stretch marks will tell all if we look through the glass booth
Tits startin’ to sag, she tired of shit
Still we can’t reach bliss, so she covers the other lips
Pressure rapidly overrides our mainframe
Lost too many 1UPs playin the same game
Dropped all the Power Pellets, weak we can no longer host
How we supposed to win when they got us fightin ghosts…