Diamond Dandelion She was never the beautiful, long-haired mother i wrote about in #poems she never walked barefoot through forests green blades of grass, sheared a perfect two inches, one blade at a time carpeting the front lawn of her pink and white bungalow. she just wasn’t that lucky. sunflowers and rose bushes never draped across white picket fences her garden merely yielded curtailed dandelions polka dotted across patches of brown. she learned to value their beauty because they had such pretty names, "dandelions." however, she, my mother, still dreamt of sunny spring Saturdays drenching her dreams with lemonade stands and sprinklers, heart-shaped bushes and glass Coke bottles, liberty and justice for all. but somehow, somehow she knew better than to dream too unsilently. as a child she would fill my days with baloney sandwiches and flavored tap water. then, i never understood how hard she tried to keep me happy, and even up until today, i have yet to discover how often she dreams. but somehow, somehow i know its always about me and the husband she never had. she was never that medallion-shaped, apron-cloaked mistress moving proud across the wooden floor she dreamt of wearing almost perfectly white socks, stretched disproportionate at the ankles from carrying #life as pure as those damn white walls she just wasn't that lucky, but today wont let her forget. wont let her sink into an oblivion of white walls and pined floors. an oblivion of finely tuned but extremely rhythmless music. mother, those dandelions are singing to you. loud, boastful, brilliant. mother, those dandelions are beautiful. like you, but like you even they forget. sorry they couldnt grow up amongst roses. sorry they sprang from the cracks, etched in povert America. they grew up among society’s weeds. the neighborhood hates those dandelions, the neighborhood wants to kill those dandelions, but my mother always grows back. to soak sun and hold it in her cheeks. thin colored all-brights, brilliant yellow and that yellow faced dandelion will never die but she will always dream of something more than those weeds. until the day she realizes that a flower as beautiful as her does not belong in a rose bush.

Futures Individuality Sick of looking at reflections, from schoolyards to college Primitive men and woman with societies core classes of “civilized” knowledge Stiff-necked, emotionless scholars on prescription meds Wishing their morale dilemmas were all in their heads Can’t acknowledge that their ego and pride is the root Misguided from youth, hearts divided from truth These miscellaneous gazes are so indefinite it sensitizes my gut Eyes completely open with eyelids fully shut Truth is broad To say it, is like bringing up religion Not a whole lot of answers but lots of opinions Dare throw out your own outlook, while refraining from giving a recommendation to another powerful and #life-changing book Maybe we'll all be able to live a little more, less enhanced Give ourselves our own detention Be able to re-live that moment playing on a swing-set in kindergarten without any tension

City Bus Rides #kindofalongone:/ Seeing remnants of lost dreams through gaps of missing teeth Hurt childhoods written in graffiti so often its like Christmas’s doors that line up with wreaths Silence sold to noises of sore throats and raspy thoughts developed from black tar ridden waters Some speak of their daughters How child support left them no choice but to be pushing shopping-carters I grit my teeth, trying to use just one of my senses Knowing more than that could cause a potential thirst that never quenches No ride is simple No ride is ample The wheels run on fuel laced with obnoxious cries and elders screaming for their seat The one they earned with grey hair, wrinkled leather skin, and swollen feet Anything to calm the drama that runs their minds all day, bleeding through their complexion Lack of affection Diseased with half measures that promised eternities through a collapsing erection Asking questions that need more than a penny for your thoughts or a dime for your attention Each crippling avenue picks up a new scent of smoke that carries a story of scars Stories of Hollywood stars and overseas given Sars Leaking into the open air to crush your safety net and have you cringing with your bones feeling sore Your comfort zone can’t be reached by exiting through the back door Jaws move as quick as kids running to catch this fare fast The smell of curiosity, ideas, and happiness blends with old whiskey bottles merging into broken glass It's a moving caravan going from A to B as it flows Culminating groups of minds believing the lustful hustle that turns humans to hoes Feeling like the blind is leading the blind I guess it's the mind they chose Designed to stay closed With that sits the industrial wealth Feeding off of the global economy destined only to look after itself I’m sure their homes are furnished and painted with Ikea’s mouth saying, “you’re doing good….but seriously gain more wealth!” This feels like a tainted priesthood that has real saints misunderstood While pressure and opinions seen on the TV set up the veil Cultivating minds to look at future as more like a mythical tale There is insanity rising from the floor Arousing questions like: What are we working for? What are these two dollars for? And don’t treat me like a whore Lying with a half sad, half ginning smudge across your face, with your false motives spraying out of your pours like mace “It’s going to the bus drivers. Don’t worry.” Like we’re feeding the poor You can find a third world country out the window as we pass each liquor store Empty traditions Striving to reach their goal of a certain social position Teaching ambition to support the families superstition? Your counterfeit wisdom is spoke through stutters, miswell be creating sentences with curse words Every exhale out turns from smoke to white Internally showcasing your bodies are absent of light Under the curse To feel not so happy but just a bit worse Faxing, not calling, so personal interaction doesn’t come first Snatching your heart and soul right out of your purse It's time for rebirth I get off at my stop emotionally drained from the mix of dirty fingernails and suits I use my breath as my one scent, giving the chance for the others to re-boot I think about how it’s our time and generation to start watering our roots Take nothing for granted, take everything around us serious, especially the idea of truth So these buses filled with empty, dying flowers blooming with never-fulfilled pursuits Can become trees bearing compassion and kindness filled fruits Each one juicy and ripe with aspirations, goals, and freedom with no expectations Ones that cannot even be cut with a knife Only bus rides with a variety of peace, empathy, care, togetherness, health, love, humility, but most importantly, #life

Awake I remember pillow fighting with my grandpa a while back He'd hit me, I'd hit him, whack! Then we would sit down and peacefully chat So much energy So many smiles Such a beautiful soul, sweeter than any mural made out of tiles I look back and the misty eyes begin to run He told me I was his number one grandson I lost him two nights later to himself choosing a handgun It was my first time realizing that you could have something at moment one, all is fun, and really loose it the next second from a mixture of Malibu rum I didn't know how to comprehend It was too complex This isn't about my grandfather, however, but instead the left letter How it exemplified a path one chose to follow And that every one of us has a daily-basis choice If whether or not, we would like our lives voiced or remain in wallow I find myself sometimes fantasizing about some nice shoes, or a necklace When really what I need is a job off Craigslist Even though it may sound boring The truth in that is greater than going to your nearest Nordstrom and shop whoring Maxing out credit cards Judging people who were dealt different cards Although grandpa may have committed suicide And left a trail of unanswered questions in the oceans tide It was a bigger picture than some extreme graphic on google His autopsy showed to stay present, understand truth, and what's really real and needed Affection, love, respect, joy, freedom, carelessness, relaxation, all these you must feel So that what is next to you or in front, you're content with and real That very moment you're spending with family, friends, significant others, or even with just yourself in a field Is another special time that is unique and you don't have to kneel I myself, have been looking into this paper pad with my pen in my holster for over half my #life Knowing my wounds can be somewhat cured stabbing my blank sheet with my ballpoint knife Realizing that fantasies and candy painted Cadillacs are all a trap If I believed in that, then Uncle Sam is my pimp and he miswell put me on the track That's why, of course when I think about my grandpa I get sad, but the real message, although found in a jagged bottle, is to be glad No matter what the circumstances, be glad Take every day and jump into it like you do with your sneakers With arms wide open and your ears as large as speakers Cherish every moment with that crazy uncle,or forced dinner with mom Because you never really know what you've got until its gone

Consumption In The Veins When I was young, my dream was to jump like Mike Have the same agility, height, dribbling skills, and a shiny, bald, black head, even though I was white I saw his Nike slogan commercial with the air bubble to pump Thought to myself now if i just had those, I could surely dunk Promised my mom I would clean my room for a year so it wouldn't stunk Just a little white lie to quickly solve my slump Made my mom buy me those shoes with a $100 bill Blind to the value of this green paper, just couldn't think of anything else but myself looking ill Went to school the next day and all my friends were like, "No Way!" I was living in the nice part of town, merging with the rough part of town Trying to seem down But really just making myself look like a consumption freaked clown A tragic realization was soon to come, but at the time i thought i was the coolest kid at school My best friend Jaylanni was still rocking his old Addidas with holes in the soles I looked at Jaylanni and said, " look man I'm gonna touch the rim!" He said, "awesome man..." with a look of pure grim I didn't come close to touching the rim, and once I got home I saw a new commercial where Mikes displaying his even newer shoes at the gym My eyebrows closed in I was confused to why I wasn't suddenly Mike: inside and out and all in within It took me a while in #life until I started to think My plan had washed down the drain of the sink I couldn't touch the rim, I wasn't any cooler with my friends, and my mom was now a $100 short on her tax day that month I swear though I looked at them and felt happy once Now I'm looking at them and feel like I just looked right at a hay-maker punch My eye swollen shut with disillusionment Bruising of wish-washed colors that exemplified confusion Fake enlightenment pitied me as I wallowed in this infusion A week before i learned my little cousin was held at gun point for these same shoes No games Consumption was flowing through my veins The shoe laces were criss-crossing around my throat I couldn't talk! I wanted to write on every bridge in all caps, "We wear so many things to show our persona," in chalk We bury our personalities with junk, I see it a lot in Pomona To increase our chances of getting with Fionna We wear what we believe to be who we are When really I feel like we are just wearing corporate tricks to hide our scars Now when I look back and think about where those pumps are now They are just with the other old ones Not lost mom but unfound Knowing now they were just another pair of shoes that didn't give me anymore status but just gave me the chance to lose Fortunately, I didn't lose myself, I just gained a lesson in my own self-worths wealth It's hard not to purchase especially when you can, And everything you see walking, is telling you to "treat yourself, and if not you, your lady! Be a man!" To walk by those billboards and stand Remember my mothers face, and understand all its worth is a 2-second, self-esteem boosting scam #revolt