Poetry - Cracked

I took my previous poem Addiction, and went deeper, or at least tried to. I wanted to show the confusion, how someone looses themselves in their addiction. Where the drug becomes them.

Cracked

Look through the eyes of a crack head, the world of a dope fiend
In my life I just backped, the world is a smokescreen
I live for the fog, I can’t stand the haze
I live in the drug, I can’t stand the days

Nights in the light, but my eyes unshaded
In the fight for my life, but it is so jaded,
Jagged, as the rocks laced with hatred
Matrix…

I don’t know if I’m in control or being controlled
Or maybe just a controller plugged into the console
This miracle material makes me immaterial
I don’t know if it’s my component or a peripheral

The machie mineral, man made, but man look what its made me
In no rush to exit the damn maze, Do you think that I’m crazy?
Or do you think that I’m lazy?
I work hard to work hard, Look at all that it gave me….

Look at what all I gave it
The traitor and the one’s that traded
Sold my self to the syringe slave ship
I ain’t got no willing, because my stones are enslavement
I ain’t got no ceiling, because my home is the pavement

That’s why I get as high as I can, because I already exist in my grave pit…

www.ryanphipps.blogspot.com

Poetry - The Usual Story

It is basically the usual story of a boy in the ghetto, it started off as me telling me life story but as I wrote it, it came that so many rappers, friends, entertainers had shared this story. it was written 2 years ago

The Usual Story by The Ryan Phipps

Sad he’s oh so, because Daddy don’t want the

Son of A Bitch, who’s batty and country

It was all set in motion, once the stone started rolling

And the tears started falling

Ain’t no consoling, a bastard bawling

Cept for rappers scrawling songs

That hit home for this young

Neglected nigga…His history a mystery

Those dudes talk to his heart, misery visibly

Displayed, rewound and replayed

It seems it’s delayed

His chance to be saved…

Nope he knows no father

He thinks he might falter

So why bother to gather alters

Nope he knows no Father.

He’d rather author, the second coming of the carter

Newest Jack of the city – take it all hostage

To hold weight like the O-line of a Big-12 College

His hopes demolished, dreams resurrected out of tar

He is the streets…perfected for the war

Moms has no cure and the ails won’t fail

But he his damn sure the cells won’t bail

The wells won’t fill, it’s bottomless

The problems just, swell won’t tail and to the gen. populace

It’s not common sense, but to him, the target audience, he's cognizant

In his competence, school is overshadowed

In the war on drugs, he’s wining so many battles

An unloader of the metal

Too hopefully become holder of the medal

But truly he’s just another solider in the saddle

When it’s over and it’s settled

But it’s never older and it it’s never settled

This is the weight of the burden form the boulder of the ghetto