Somehow I’ve become addicted to this song, there couldn’t be any lyrics more poetic, so I had to blog it 🙂
Lyrics******
Yeah, it’s a long way home at the end of the road
I’ll be paving my own way, to the top, I be here to stay
So take my name, remember this face, keep the change and have a nice day
And live for the moment, not by the past, homie live each day like it’s your last
All my life, I couldn’t fit in, like a bad shoe
I was always too square, too cube, too tall, too weird, too blue
Forget them high-school’s hotties now I’m too cool
I guess I came a long way from that young kid
The school’s most popular lane, no friends, no style, no clothes, no ends
Just a bed fell asleep, never woke up again
Yeah, and my last prayer was don’t ever let me end up like the people that’s down here
Cause the one that fear change be the one that don’t care
Look at themselves and see somebody else in the mirror
But you can always pick me out of the crowd
Loud mouth with my very own style
And what I know now is don’t ever pretend
And live every single day like you won’t see it again
So take my name, remember this face, keep the change and have a nice day
And live for the moment, not by the past, homie live each day like it’s your last
And if you only have 24 hours, 1400 minutes before your dream.s gone
Then you better go live it, cause whatever you love could be taken away
So live like it’s your dying day
I dedicate this to my teachers that never believed in me
And the mother that conceived, but ended up leaving me
I just wish you all can see me smile, there’s big grins on the tv now
And I took it from the bottom to the top
From the holes in my socks, ramen noodles in the pot
Used to rob them on the block, now they spot me in the drop
Middle finger up and that ain’t gonna stop
I used to take orders, now I make bets
I used to scrub floors, now I sign checks
I used to push carts, now I push songs
I used to be there, now I am so gone
I fired myself, found a job myself
Established my name and then I signed myself
And what I tell myself, is you did this by yourself
And when I’m on so long, I’ll be by myself
So take my name, remember this face, keep the change and have a nice day
And live for the moment, not by the past, homie live each day like it’s the last
And if you only have 24 hours, 1400 minutes before your dream’s gone
Then you better go live it, cause whatever you love could be taken away
So live like it’s your dying day
I wish I could see their faces when they heard your boy speak
Wish I could know what they’re thinking when they heard my first hit
Cause I remember them wishing that I wouldn’t get big
Now I bet they’re wishing they never said that shit
I came out of a dying city brought back life
Everything they said I couldn’t do I did about twice
Multiplied by the bottles that we popped each night
That equals out to a celebration, bitches more ice
Ni**a toast to the underdogs, toast to the team
Toast to the fact, we this close to the dream
Pour one for my exs, used to talk reckless
But now I push Benzes and rock Rolexes
Came from the city and until they come and get me
Turn around and see the whole east side’s still with me
And that’s how we live it, you mans don’t change
Look, it’s still the kid, still can’t tell me a goddamn thing
So take my name, remember this face, keep the change and have a nice day
And live for the moment, not by the past, homie live each day like it’s the last
And if you only have 24 hours, 1400 minutes before your dream’s gone
Then you better go live it, cause whatever you love could be taken away
So live like it’s a dying day
Yeah, it’s a long way home at the end of the road
I’ll be paving my own way, to the top, I be here to stay
So take my name, remember this face, keep the change and have a nice day
And live for the moment, not by the past, homie live each day like it’s your last
She asked me what’s in a poem
She wanted to know If the poems were true stories
I told her; a poem isn’t always fact
But it could be true
A poem simply uses the best words to express an emotion
Be it love, lust, pain, epiphany, anger or madness
The poet searches for the soul in words
And puts an unheard rhythmic melody only visible to the heart
A poem isn’t always for you, me, him, her or anyone
But a poem will speak to someone
She asked me again; what’s in a poem? And are the stories true?
I told her; A poem is a fairy tale come true.
A philosopher’s stone.
A prophet’s thought
A musician’s string
A poem is what you make of it
She asked for a third time; what’s in poem?
I told her; I don’t know
Cos when I wrote this poem, it wasn’t about you
It was about me
~GE
Oh If I could tell you what love is
Love is the smell of rain on a hot summer day
It’s the smell of Christmas in Paris
It’s that unexplained emotion that keeps you smiling when you smell something reminiscent of your fondest memory
Love is you seeing into my soul and loving me in-spite of my dark side
Love is you believing in me when I didn’t know there was something worth believing in
Love is you holding on tight to me even when I try to break free
Love’s not always that perfect fairy tale
But it’s certainly that rocky start that turns good then perfect
Love’s that mate my soul never knew it needed
Love is coming home to your warm embrace when the world’s worn me out with a bad day
Love is that dose of harsh reality you give me every time we fight
And that reassuring bond we form over again whenever we make up
Love never leaves me ashamed
Love doesn’t make me feel less of myself
Love doesn’t leave me with regrets
Love doesn’t leave me feeling filthy
Love doesn’t lie
Love isn’t something stolen
Love is that slow burning amber that starts with a little spark and glows brighter than a burning bush for all of eternity
Love is me and you
Always and forever
Through pain and joy
Through struggles and triumphs
Through mistakes and infallibilities
Through this world and the next
~~ GE
I see her beauty
I see her spirit
I see her heart
And she inspires me
I see her character
I see her struggle
I see her commitment
And she inspires me
I see her legacy
I see her grace
I see her soul
And she inspires me
She’s my Black goddess
She’s her man’s rock
She’s her children’s idle
And she’s our inspiration
Poetry is her language
Humanity is her cause
Love is her blood
And GOD is her heart
She’s Rosa Park
She’s Josephine baker
She’s Ida Wells Barnett
She’s our hope and she’s our struggle
She’s Marian wright Edelman
She’s MC Lyte
She’s Queen Latifah
She’s Floetry, Carol M Braun and
Maya Angelou
She’s Lucille Clifton, Yvonne Chaka Chaka, Winnie Mandela
She’s Lauryn Hill’s miseducation
She’s the wade in the water
The rhythm in our music
The wind when it blows
The hurricane when it storms
She’s me
She’s you
She’s my African queen
She’s a black girl and she rocks
~GE
Maybe it’s luck
Maybe it’s blessings
Maybe it’s predestination
Maybe it’s hard work and tears
We’ll probably never know
What we do know is the beauty in that moment
Maybe it’s you
Maybe it’s me
Maybe it’s GOD
Maybe it’s our hearts
And the strength in our character
We’ll probably never know
What we do know is the beauty in that moment
That precious moment when our dreams come true
That precious pivotal moment which swings us towards our destiny
That precious moment when you say hello to what you’ve known all your life
Some of us get there a little quicker than others
Some are always close.
Every now and again, some barely make it.
And what we’ll be is never truly known
What we do know, is the beauty in that precious moment
~ GE
Ever since I heard her story
It’s been hard to get her off my mind
I searched for her name
To hear more
To know more
Just to see her
For to know her, feels like knowing the works of GOD
Her story is that of beauty.
I prayed to the universe
To give me a story like hers
To give me what she was given
A brilliant idea and a resilient spirit
And I would work even harder to multiply it seven folds
I prayed for the beauty of her struggles and her tears
Then I blessed her and hoped someday I could thank her
The beauty of her story is all I know
For her commitment to hard work and perseverance through rejection, I praise her.
I know she may have faced many nights of tears, but her laughter and humble smile is more than I can speak of
Somehow she’s become a modern day Abraham
She reminds me of King David’s Poem; ‘A virtues woman’
~ GE
I looked in her eyes and all I saw was gloom
The glow that once gave us all a smile and a reason to long for her voice is gone
All that’s left is the scars of time and years of struggle
I should feel pity
And I do feel pity for her
But the disdain I feel is stronger
I know I shouldn’t feel this much negativity towards anyone
I shouldn’t blame her for everything
But I don’t know how not to
All I see is her many weaknesses and her many failures
All I see is my constant struggle not to be like her
Her ignorance is outstanding it’s almost a crime
Her selflessness towards her own has become a danger to society
How can something so good be so bad at the same time?
She’s not the worst you’ll find but she’s certainly not the best either
And though she’s not bad at all, her mistakes did spawn little gremlins
Little gremlins who are really Little demons ticking away like time bombs waiting to explode
She can’t fix her errors
She doesn’t even know how
And I don’t even know how to help her
but somehow I feel like I’m sharing her load
She never knew what it meant to be selfless
Even then, I don’t think she ever really knew anything.
somehow I pray maybe I really don’t know her and I ought to stop being so judgmental.
Maybe I should let it go
But I really don’t know how
You ask me what she’s done that’s so bad and I’ll tell you
It’s not so much what she’s done but what she failed to do
And it’s not just what she’s failed to do but what she’s also done
Her failure is she used her child as a bargaining chip and robbed her child of a lifetime
Her weakness is she married a demon and unleashed a lifetime of pain on her child and never stopped to say “I’m sorry I let you go through so much pain”
Her weakness is she never knew how to raise a child so she let society do her job for her and we all know how kind society is not
Her failure is she’s self centered
And I’ve become overly critical, judgmental and bitter because I pay too much attention to her!
Even then, I still love her and her love is like a spell I can never break free off!
~ GE
I wish you made me laugh often
But you didn’t.
I wish you were kind hearted to me,
But you weren’t exactly kind hearted.
I wish you were generous to me,
But you weren’t.
I wish you talked to me a little more,
But you didn’t.
I wish you gave me memories to remember you by,
But you didn’t.
I wish I gave you more,
Perhaps I didn’t.
I wish I meant more to you,
But I didn’t.
Then again, I wish you were worth only your worth to me,
But you were overrated, and I got cheated.
Goes to say;
We are both good,
Just not good to each other.
Imaginary lovers we were,
Loving each other’s deception.
Holding on to words and wishes we knew weren’t worth a penny.
~GE
I haven’t written in over 2 months. I haven’t even been inspired to come up with a single poetic syllable. It feels like I lost my mojo or my muse left me high and dry. But then again, I do think of writing every day. My heart, my head and my fingers twitch every second.
I keep telling myself, maybe I’ve finally experienced what they call ‘the writers block’. At least I’d like to think that’s the problem. But something tells me its more than that. I’ve been known to over think things and over-analyze every situation. I guess this is one of those situations huh? Maybe it is, maybe it’s not, who knows..
All I can say is, I lost my Mojo and it’ll be good to find it in someone’s ‘lost and found box’ somewhere somehow. I started this blog to get my poetry out there, and it’s been a beautiful experience, but then two books later and I’m wanting more. Not just poetry but J. K Rowlings’ kind of deal.
I started working on a sci-fi book last year but somehow my storyline keeps taking different forms. I find myself constantly comparing the plots to something I’ve seen in any sci-fi fantasy movie I watch lately, and In a bid to be overly creative and different, I end up wearing myself out.
However, for the last 2 months, it’s been completely silent in my head. No new ideas for a scene or plot. Not even a poetry line comes to mind. Then today I heard someone use the phase “Fake it till you make it” and it got me thinking. Can you fake your way through creativity. Can you have poetry without the passion and emotion? or can you create that masterpiece of a storyline without your creative juices flowing or while your ‘Mojo’ is still missing. Perhaps it takes discipline.
I mean I’ve had to fake an orgasm multiple times just to get it over with, but I never thought it was possible to fake creativity just to keep going???? Is it really possible?
Not saying anyone really does fake creativity and I know what you’re probably gonna say next is; “It’ll come back to you when it does”.. but what if it doesn’t? Is this what happens to dead dreams? You hear about people never getting to make their dreams a reality and you cant help but wonder what happened. Or you hear about one hit wonders and you wonder how they ended up in the archives of time and forgotten memories.
I know I’m over thinking the simplest of things again, but I cant help but think. I really do believe I may have been a Greek philosopher in my past life.
That being said. Thanks for visiting my blog. Be sure to buy my book here —> (Poetry My Love) and follow me on Twitter @GloriaE
I’ll try to write a little more often. Hopefully my Mojo will find its way home again 🙂
Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion. It is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things.
~ T. S. Eliot
