Writing Prompt #27

Put your music on shuffle. Write a poem beginning with the first phrase you hear.

Fuck these niggas talking about man

I just want a hundred grand

Is all these artists talk about

They can’t make good music so they just talk about stuff that brings clout

Money, drugs, girls, all the things that bring us down

But we talk about it because that’s all we can get on the beat

I wish they would just take a seat

If you can’t rap then why even take that leap

Our people dropping to their knees

Because of the drugs their taking

Because of what your songs saying

You’re not even taking

Your faking

While they’re dying

Or killing to feed the addiction they gained

What am I talking about man

I guess I started tripping too from listening to you

Disclaimer: A fun little post I guess. Like, comment and subscribe to my mailing list. View my previous posts until tomorrow. Follow me on all my social media platforms.

Best Advice

All advice is not good advice for starters. So with that being said, take this how you like. The best advice I received was from my momma. I believe doing a hard time of depression. If I remember correctly it went something like this.

“You have to do it yourself. Nobody in this world is going to do everything for you. If you want to achieve something then you have to do it yourself.”

Yeah, that hit hard a little. I wouldn’t say I had it made all my life but I was a little spoiled. So right now it’s about getting out that habit and doing it myself. Working hard for what I want.

As always subscribe to my mailing list to stay up to date on all my posts. Follow me on all social media platforms. View my previous posts until tomorrow.

Breakdown (Spoken Word)

This week I had a little bit of a breakdown and of course, I wrote a poem. It’s therapeutic when I’m down. Here’s what I wrote. I also made a video reciting this, Link Here https://youtu.be/k52je4nWdac

Breakdown:

I can’t control when this depression comes

But I can tell you how it make me feel

It be having me want to grab a gun and kill the man in the mirror

I feel so fucked up to the point I got my momma looking at me in terror

I wish I could say I can beat the voices inside of my head

But every time we come face to face I get put to bed

As the tears roll down my face

I just need space

Is the only thing I say

It’s easy for you to look in and say i need this and that but you don’t feel this pain

You don’t know my demons

I wish I had a better reason

For why I no I can’t say that

I’m just trying to escape

After eight years it just feels like I’m running in one big circle

I just wanna say pops why wasn’t my dreams enough

I didn’t ask God to be this big

I just feel so sick

No I just feel like shit

Because I wasn’t enough of a son to live up to your dreams

A big waste of space is the shit I heard daily

I feel like a failure

The past got me in a chokehold

I wish I could say I won’t fold

But I don’t know any more

Random Thoughts: My Name

This question is from a random questionnaire on Pinterest. Follow me on there if you want. https://www.pinterest.com/piecesofkblog/boards/

I actually don’t like my first name. If you didn’t know my name is Kenneth. I always thought it just sounds too serious. But who name really fits them. No one really calls me my first name. I rather Kenny or K. Just not Kenneth.

If I really cared I would change my name. Also, I’m a junior I rather have my own name. Just random thoughts on this post. Subscribe to my mailing list for updates. Like, comment and follow this blog.