tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28240907068449450082024-03-05T14:02:45.126-08:00A Pencil and a Dreamso the pen is mightier than the sword, my lord. - G.O.A.T.Justin Demarcus Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17190919593904789362noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2824090706844945008.post-2191724931251594712010-08-04T12:21:00.000-07:002010-08-04T12:23:51.953-07:00random .based off of lies and lust <br />relationship quickly turned to dust<br />find myself constantly attempting to grab the broom again<br />maybe i missed a spot, is it possible for all of our love to fit in a shitty dustpan?Justin Demarcus Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17190919593904789362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2824090706844945008.post-89334606738213290802010-08-04T12:12:00.000-07:002010-08-04T12:13:38.385-07:00wale - the ambitious girl<object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Wgq2U3TGSpU&hl=en_US&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Wgq2U3TGSpU&hl=en_US&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br />self-explanatory . i think i've listened to it about 500 times today.Justin Demarcus Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17190919593904789362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2824090706844945008.post-68912208799360815802010-08-02T19:38:00.000-07:002010-08-02T19:39:10.332-07:00insomniatic dreamswhat does one suffering from insomnia dream of <br />do they even bother saying goodnight or i love you<br />they are in what's see worst dream of them all, the ones you cant pinch to escape<br />lay awake til the wee hours, watching the sunshine through the darkest of drapes<br />one's dreams have been equated with those deepest goals and fantasies<br />were stripped of that definition, to still lie awake - are they ever pleased?<br />not knowing what dreams are made of, the places you can go<br />when asked what one wants to be:<br />[ shrugs ] hell if i know<br />toss and turn every night, haven't had a good night's rest<br />i dont mind just sitting up, nights without tears are the best<br />thoughts racing kilometers per second, while others dream in a land far away<br />fcuk a night terror, im being chased by be demons all day<br />sun welcomes them with warm arms, our encounters become cold at the moon<br />look at the clock, it will all be over soon<br />alarm sounds, wakes me from not a slumber, more a catnap<br />only to find myself in another emotional mishap<br />pinching my arms, hoping this just a dream with a dream<br />mom always said things aren't what they seem<br />could be my imagination, im lacking that creative side<br />shoulda have been drooling the sheets, instead they are a place i cried<br />alarm sounds, why do the best dreams seem to be the shortest ones<br />gotta try to start off where i left off, cant wait til when nightfall comes<br />only to find myself suffering from insomnia once more<br />i'm stuck in a nightmare when im awake, what i need to dream for ?Justin Demarcus Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17190919593904789362noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2824090706844945008.post-28958930527366064382010-07-05T21:12:00.000-07:002010-07-05T21:21:18.186-07:00tardy.i think the only times i was on time were when things were going awry<br />i ws on time for every argumen, every fight - always knew how to make you cry<br />but i was always too late whe it came to the right things to do<br />didn't kiss you at the right moments to dry your eyes, even went to sleep without an "i love you"<br />let you suffer as a result of my seemingly intentional tardiness<br />me being so late has led to both of our's loneliness<br />because once i finally started to loveyou, ready for us - we were nowhere in sight<br />i had already forfeited and thrown in the towel, a boxer refusing to fight<br />now im out here on time for every bitch in the party<br />dressed to impress; why when it came to us did i have to be so tardy<br />should have set my alarm for the time to be better man for our sake<br />instead i pressed snooze, how many apologies could i really expect you to take?<br />now im sitting in this room, heart beating louder than that alarm<br />i set a new one, ready for the time that i cause you no harm<br />ill be on time for this one, even ironed my attire<br />sirens blasting, ill be there before you can even sense a fire<br />to patch every wound i made, take back every wrong i did, words i screamed<br />even if its not in real life anymore, i wanna again be the man of your dreamsJustin Demarcus Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17190919593904789362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2824090706844945008.post-81672130313232995062010-06-17T11:53:00.000-07:002010-06-17T12:11:11.593-07:00ode to the notebookSo the pen is mightier than the sword my Lord<br />Hov said , those lines hit me hard, sung the sweetest chord<br />Describing my love affair with a composition books, well actually books<br />I could write for hours despite my peers dirty looks<br />What good is that ? Who writes for fun anymore they would giggle and say<br />I'd just jot another poem or story, these personal works of art would free me one day<br />Of the invisible but destructive barricades and far-fetched hopes of a child confused<br />I cried in my notebook with tears of blue and black ink, I don't know who said band-aids heal the bruised<br />I'm writing so I'm living, that's why its permanent on my right arm<br />Same arm that reads strength holds my ink-filled sword, protects me from all harm<br />Every so often I open up one of the journals and let its words teleport me to the past<br />The passages hold so many stories, life-changing moments, emotions together like a makeshift cast<br />But instead of everyone signing it with corny jokes and a get well soon<br />I'm the only author, writing myself messages to get well soon<br />Some nights I gave up though, threw entries in the garbage - screaming fcuk em<br />Just to wake up rummaging through the trash, screaming I need em<br />I've come to realize this isn't a hobby or antidrug<br />Its how I connect with others, how I heal, no point in sweeping life under a rug<br />I let the pen take control, writing whatever is on or comes to mind<br />The day they bury, it aint gon be money that they find<br />A composition book - probably a damn collection<br />And the reader will be able to tell you all about me - the good, bad, and the ugly<br />For these books hold my life's reflectionJustin Demarcus Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17190919593904789362noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2824090706844945008.post-31328939582081485892010-06-15T19:20:00.001-07:002010-06-15T19:20:26.755-07:00she's here .beautiful beyond measure, gentle, real - but these qualities are only in fantasies<br />aint seen all three of those things in a person, only in my stories<br />thought to myself, women like that don't exist, that's why they call this fiction<br />but i had to write of real love and happily ever after, like some sort of addiction<br />hoping that one day i would find my novel's leading lady, be it sooner than later<br />a happy ending is always great in literature - but in real life? got to be greater<br />i always describe her the same, beautiful features, a mind mature beyond its years<br />i would write her into my life, her purpose to dry the most silent of tears<br />now im realizing that maybe she isn't just a fictional character, she could be real<br />i pinch myself, hoping your presence isn't a mirage, give me another feel<br />kiss me once more, hug me tighter, rub your body against mine until we're both numb<br />i used to hide behind those pages of finding such a woman, now to them i shall succumb<br />for my perfect woman has lifted from off of those lined sheets and presented herself to me<br />the next story i tell, i dont need a pen or a pad - it shall be the story of us, her and me: reality.Justin Demarcus Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17190919593904789362noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2824090706844945008.post-90167604082242536482010-06-07T11:46:00.000-07:002010-06-07T11:48:06.029-07:00Wale - "Diary"<object style="background-image:url(http://i3.ytimg.com/vi/jfmiKmUlx6Q/hqdefault.jpg)" width="480" height="295"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/jfmiKmUlx6Q&hl=en_US&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/jfmiKmUlx6Q&hl=en_US&fs=1" width="480" height="295" allowScriptAccess="never" allowFullScreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object><br /><br />spoken word - the sweetest thing i've ever heard. lets talk about the main character / Wale's crush; she isn't the stereotype, but she is definitely a beautiful woman. the emotions these two share with one another are told by the song's lyrics - really listen to this joint without watchin the video. the last verse, make it your favorite.<br /><br />See all I ever want to do is be relevant,<br /><strong>Just tell me that I ever meant,<br />Anything or that you could ever see me and you in another light,</strong><br />But it's like the dark winter-endures the darkest nights,<br />By the wrong men,<br />Mostly all of them,<br />Have made you somewhat incapable,<br />Of a first impression,<br />What I do is channel my aggression,<br />With no cable,<br />Or antenna just intentions<br />To impress you,<br />If capable,<br />Hoping that the material possessions can materialize a better you,<br />Cars-nothing I drive<br />Can drive better this frame of mind<br />With such an ugly picture in the end,<br /><em>Money-Nothing I buy<br />Can buy me more time<br />For your ears to say to your heart to listen</em><br />Diamonds-A girls best friend,<br />Is what they say,<br />But believe me with the right allegiance shorty you gonna shine anyways,<br />And every day that goes by is a couple more lines in her diary,<br />The day before is better than the present,<br /><strong>So anyone presented in her presence,<br />Endures her life-sentences-</strong><br />No key for release no reason to be around,<br />Her mind's in the clouds,<br />She writes it all down,<br />In her diary...Justin Demarcus Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17190919593904789362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2824090706844945008.post-14537674211372494922010-05-27T06:53:00.000-07:002010-05-27T06:55:40.441-07:00the paper to my penI find myself in a daze, probably from that dour to various colors of haze<br />Lock myself in my brain, armed with a pen grenade - the magnitude makes it last for days<br />I want my words to stay with you, you memorize them like the words to your favorite love song<br />Every time I write another line, I feel certain walls falling down, others slowly protecting the vulnerable one<br />Because I hide behind these words, once I let you read them I'm exposed, worse UV rays from the sun<br />This piece I wrote special for you, wear something nice for the occasion<br />Or just lay in your skin, after writing your body is my next best obsession<br />Recognizing that this may just be lust, another crush - I may not ever really know the essence of you<br />Hoping that you won't be taken aback by my honesty, words are one's bond so mine can't be anything but true<br />So I write another line, tolerating the victim I could become, but calls myself the hero in this story<br />I'm transferring the nervousness and negativity into a masterpiece, one day they gonna ask if you knew him back then<br />You will just smile, hold on to those words I once wrote secretly for you, when I knew just what to say, way back whenJustin Demarcus Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17190919593904789362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2824090706844945008.post-82008537594766593882010-05-24T17:39:00.000-07:002010-05-24T17:49:23.799-07:00soundtrack to my lifeI'm super paranoid, like a sixth sense; since my pop died, I haven't been right since. - Kid Cudi<br /><br />Pick my brain, try to understand why tone and personality are the way they are for a reason.<br />Stick around for longer than an arousal, be with me for more than just the summer, I always found that to be the prettiest and shortest season.<br />Look into my eyes when you address me, but don't stare for so long that I am forced to look away before you do.<br />Get to know what makes up my very being, let me put rest to the allegations and tell you what is true.<br />Like the saying goes, you win some, you lose some.<br />Obviously I'm the outkast, I rarely win, maybe I truly am dumb.<br />Academically achieving success, emotionally I pile up broken hearts - each with a different name.<br />I label them with their own poem before throwing them into the closet, careful to make room for the next loser in my love game.<br />One time I made the mistake of playing myself, <br />Found myself a labeled pawn upon her shelf.<br />I sit there now, like those have sat in my past,<br />Anxious to be remembered, dusted off, held again, make that old feeling last.<br />Tell myself that I'm just overlooked - I finally realize she isn't even looking at me <br />She's caught in an attraction with a more stable soul, one that doesn't use and abuse<br />Back to that old saying, I realize that what I once won I must now lose.Justin Demarcus Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17190919593904789362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2824090706844945008.post-52377232732840482152010-05-24T07:37:00.001-07:002010-05-24T07:40:56.895-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiir8n6Ou5CNW2rskNlhn8uF-82vXnVXGrfDvWgxlPJPNAAq0oLmekaNCrqY2qbq4iZCAw2jNzskdvkOAK63Yi-BvmMzpHvuvnzDCjlVD0oKGZqX9VESHPQbBcE_gJNPhrGRD2HmLTxNE5B/s1600/tatedit.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474845839157786450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiir8n6Ou5CNW2rskNlhn8uF-82vXnVXGrfDvWgxlPJPNAAq0oLmekaNCrqY2qbq4iZCAw2jNzskdvkOAK63Yi-BvmMzpHvuvnzDCjlVD0oKGZqX9VESHPQbBcE_gJNPhrGRD2HmLTxNE5B/s320/tatedit.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change than I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.<br /><br />The serenity prayer - my life. I have whispered, screamed, cried, thought these words damn near everyday. It is important for one to recognize the difference between what can and cannot be changed. I strive daily to pinpoint what aspects of my life need to be altered or transformed and what is out of my control.Justin Demarcus Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17190919593904789362noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2824090706844945008.post-89060367450538105682010-05-18T10:46:00.000-07:002010-05-18T10:47:10.341-07:00Unfamiliar TerritoryIts something about meeting somebody new, somebody out of the norm<br />You start feeling like yu still have a chance. Like love has taken new form<br />Find yourself daydreaming about your life minus the bullshit and wid this new addition<br />Smiling when yu used to cry, love replacing the hate, stability instead of constant friction<br />But what if the things yu despise have just taken new shape, got a different alias<br />Yu have been through the cycle so many times, how truly new is this?<br />Take a chance though - acting blind is so much better than being aware<br />Maybe this is what yu have been looking for - the beginning of the rest of your life, off a simple stare<br />Listening to the rainfall I hear the droplets whisper to me<br />Telling me to go for it, what's the worst that could happen, so many possibilities<br />So I stand at this edge, what I'm lookin down at I really don't know at all<br />Just don't be another reason I fallJustin Demarcus Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17190919593904789362noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2824090706844945008.post-36898878465540826412010-05-18T09:34:00.000-07:002010-05-18T09:36:29.196-07:00to an old flame that blew outeyes are the windows to the soul - i wonder if she can read me so freely<br />sensing the nervousness, the tension, the attraction between her and me<br />sometimes i look away, not because im uninterested<br />its a safety precaution - dont want to give away to much off rip<br />she doesnt need to know that im already lookin at her lips<br />picturing them against mine - whispering for me to never leave<br />other times i make sure our eyes lock - time moves slower then, listen for the tick<br />she smiles, then i smile - listen to the tock<br />snapped back into reality - there goes the looking away again<br />if she wants me to be that one that shes never had i can<br />getting to far ahead of myself - im cursing myself on the inside<br />finding my eyes stuck between a moment of squinting before they open back wide<br />i need her to learn the language of my glances - the long ones are the best<br />thas when im picturing what it be like to hear you ask me to undress - you first, then myself<br />not for a night lust - but a night of bliss simple eye contact turns into an exchanging of fantasies with each kiss<br />i look at her - reread her text messages, scroll through pictures, any sight is a great view<br />eyes are the windows to the soul - look at them<br />they are trying to tell you that this story is about you . . .<br /><br />- 3/1/10Justin Demarcus Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17190919593904789362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2824090706844945008.post-83949312912783588462010-05-18T09:29:00.000-07:002010-05-18T09:33:52.562-07:00dear dadi understand that sometimes a person just wont be the right one for you<br />but it kills when that person is your own father doesnt, want, or even care get to know you<br />looks of hate and pain shot at me everytime im in his presence<br />i am his child, his blood, sweat and tears -<br />from his seed i arrived - from his neglect and distanced "love" i thrived<br />told myself i, his own daughter would become a better man than he ever was for me<br />strapping my chest tighter by the day, deeping my voice by the week, i dont even need the T<br />im fooling everyone wid this mask, in mirrors i dont even recognize myself<br />ive locked away my emotions and throw them on that feminine shelf<br />i know his inability to provide me with a father figure may hurt me in the long run<br />but in the meantime im doing just fine, my cries out to him turned into motivation<br />i closed that chapter a long time ago - every now and then it tries to repopen<br />when i hear my mother scream how im just like him<br />now im the one loving and leaving - hitting and beating - im destined to be lonely in the end<br />when i changed my name, seems like i lost my ability to connect with any women<br />living life as if im Gods Gift to a woman, hope in the end ..<br />fuck that, regardless of how many hoes i keep - i wont become him, nope not Justin<br />ive tried so hard to remove him from my mind<br />forgetting his blood still runs with mine<br /><br />- 2/26/10Justin Demarcus Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17190919593904789362noreply@blogger.com1