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  • jaleel_the_poet 13w

    In my feelings

    I fought like a soldier in the war that was your friendship,
    Every day dodging landmines and grenades;
    Watching you fall in lust with girls, who wouldn't normally give you the time of day.

    The gasoline that cause the flames,
    that burned the bridge built by my pain.
    I walked miles and miles with you to deliver, your heart to girls, that didn't want the sliver.
    You're a narcisstic sociopath, and
    a manipulative liar with a gut full of whiskey and a heart full of fire,
    the beginning of a disaster that is so dire.
    The flames that burnt the bridge built by my pain
    ©jaleel_the_poet

  • jaleel_the_poet 16w

    Golden Hour

    Queen Bey said shine already it's time already,
    well the brightness of this star is on the rise,
    like the sun kissing the western skies, golden hour,
    drenched in a creative shower of black power.

    Child of fiercesome and beautiful ancestors,
    Queer kid of NYC,
    lover of all the glitz and glamour,
    like MC Hammer in the 90s,
    you can't touch this.

    The oversaturated hues,
    silly Anthropomorphic cartoons,
    and the grunge rock tunes that dance in my head as I lay in this living room.

    It is my time to flex,
    time to be the best,
    the best version of me yet,
    glowing like Mali gold,
    my story not yet told,
    glistening in the golden hour,
    like a 6'3 tower of black power.
    ©jaleel_the_poet

  • jaleel_the_poet 17w

    Doomed Generation

    Will we,
    the millennial generation,
    live to see ourselves into old age?

    Or will our bodies be incinerated
    by hateful missiles,
    sent from overseas?

    Will,
    we,
    be,
    the eternally young,
    totally fucked up
    doomed generation,
    trapped in a sticky situation,
    just as Dark In "Nowhere" said.

    Will all we love and all we are end?
    because of toxic,
    selfish,
    rich white men,
    continously playing with our lives like dominoes,
    what a fucking effect.
    ©jaleel_the_poet

  • jaleel_the_poet 19w

    The American Nightmare

    The American dream was always a nightmare,
    A lie force fed to the young and naive,
    to have them believe,
    they are treated equally.

    America is what she is,
    and she doesn't pretend to not be;
    the land of the rich white male,
    home of those dying to be free,

    Generational poverty,
    like a foot on our neck,
    generational wealth not what you expect,
    generational trauma keeping us in check, the poor lack the resources for a better life,
    because those in charge don't treat us with respect.

    We've been lied to about the great and powerful America all of our lives;
    the wizard behind the curtain is all smoke and mirrors and where there's smoke there are wildfires.

    The ghetto is the modern day reservation, somewhere to put the descendants of the builders and sufferers,
    laborers and slaves,
    the stolen and in pain,
    the berated and enslaved,
    the victims and witnesses of your fucking American Nightmare.
    ©jaleel_the_poet

  • jaleel_the_poet 33w

    Do, you, hear,me!?

    We've carried the weight,
    we've carried the fear,
    we've carried the burden for 400 hundred years.

    We've dealt with the lynchings,
    KKK burnings too,
    from strange fruit in southern trees to murdered on the news.

    Made cargo in chains,
    separated and stolen from our identity,
    stowaways to a foreign land,
    covered In our own bile,
    they must have forced a smile,
    to not go completely insane.

    The captors "freed us" later,
    free at last?
    Why the fuck does 2020 still feel like the past?

    Finally you hear us?
    heard at last?
    after pleading for equality since centuries past!

    The ancestors are a rumbling,
    Their power is a tumbling
    storming down from the sky.

    Sending their blessings
    seeing their sacrificial lessons,
    blossom in their descendants,
    they gleam with glory up high.

    You will hear us,
    because we've never been louder,
    than we are now.
    ©jaleel_the_first

  • jaleel_the_poet 40w

    Saturday blues

    As a kid in the very early 2000s walking down Lefferts ave street,
    I was consumed by trees with giant leaves.

    Buildings as big as older brothers,
    and spring time rain that felt like the stormy kind of love that comes from mothers,
    but now the street feels smaller than me.

    Now I feel too tall against the walls,
    too loud coming down the halls,
    too cynical and dismissive,
    to easy to take the bait,
    to procrastinate.

    How odd it feels to outgrow where you've grown up.
    ©jaleel_the_poet

  • jaleel_the_poet 43w

    Natural disasters

    I sailed the seas of your tearful outbursts, survived the aggressive episodes of volcanic ash and stone.

    I gave my ear to your words,
    tried to never let you feel alone.

    I wrestled with the snowstorms of your darkness,
    cold and frigid as the 9th circle of Hell.

    But when I needed your understanding, just needed you to be kind,
    with my earthquake of a mind,
    You didn't do well.

    You pushed me away,
    you barred me from both your heart and brain because suddenly,
    the flood of me,
    was too much for you.
    ©jaleelthepoet

  • jaleel_the_poet 43w

    Check out a book of poetry I wrote with my bestfriend "The disillusioned youth" valuable now on Amazon

  • jaleel_the_poet 43w

    Stoned rooftop rantings

    Stoned rooftop rantings,
    courtesy of me, myself and I,
    under a gray winter sky.

    My father was a fire sign,
    a peaceful burning bush,
    my mother is a water sign,
    gave birth to a thunder cloud with a push.

    I am the airy headed libra,
    the result of their clash,
    I am the lightning bolt of poetry,
    boom, crackle and dash.

    The elements in a youthful dance,
    my metaphors and similes prance,
    through the fields and meadows of your mind.

    The pothead of gold at the end of the rainbow you should hope to find.
    ©indigosky

  • jaleel_the_poet 43w

    An ode to Aaliyah

    She exists in a dreamy
    distant place in my mind;
    nearly 20 years into the past.

    Her delicate voice,
    a whisper,
    I still hear,
    living in the future witnessing,
    the legacy she has amass.

    Ethereal being,
    beautiful and divine,
    who lost her life,
    long before her time.

    10 out of 10,
    dime after dime,
    sweet and intelligent,
    talented and sublime,
    you are loved and missed.
    ©indigosky