by James Kaymore
I got a shortness of breath and a pain in my chest, my bodies growing cold, I see the reaper of death, there's no-one around and the only sound is me trying to catch a breath, with my hand scratching the ground... figured I was a nigga the moment I pulled the trigger, right after i took a swig of, a forty.....
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In life I am like a child, with paper and a colored crayon.
Scribbling about my work of art, with no ideal, about its ending or start. I pick up what I can grab, and as I drag my crayon around, there is a purpose, but no direction to be found. Yet I listen for the sound, of approval.
by James Kaymore
I look for discipline in my life, in my walk, in my talk - devoid of heartache and strife.
Diligently seeking peace, joyous thoughts, happy feelings, a place to release.
The love and kindness that has been building inside, til I have reached overflowing, and I can no longer hide.
These prosperous thoughts, uplifting emotions. Words combined with actions, my daily devotions.
Kindness, gentleness, kisses, and hugs, mixed together with love - a real magic potion.
by James Kaymore
Since conception, we have been told, that our color is bad.
Been told lies of the things that has been done in the past.
Stripped of ourt heritage, robbed of creations,
blinded by inequities, strained in relations.
Like murder, and deceit, is colored in black.
While civilizations, were born on the`strength of our backs...
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Blurried echoes, silenced by visions. In plain view for any that will listen.
Memories, I once had constantly forgetting. Misconcieved notions that I'm continually reminiscing.
Feelings, that cant be touched void of real emotions. Reinacted in my daily life, burtsing with convulsions.
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