IfItWasn'tForTheInternetI'dBeABetterPerson

My mind’s always intertwined with the internet. Falling prey to the bait, so I’m swimming right into nets. Drowning in its streams because I can’t swallow the live feed as the live feed on satellite signals for entertainment, rioting when it lags or the server’s busy. Because we’re stuck there…like restaurants waiting to order when the server’s busy so sit there…lack of patience evident because we want everything at the click of a mouse. And for free.

Because iTunes is holding our music captive under oppression when we want it free. The sad truth is that, music…is like a rape charge. Hardly anyone pays for it. Now we all download on the down low, and take it all in so we down loads like megabytes were necessary hydration, then take mega bites out of computer chips for nutrition.

Finding escape within the confines of motherboards, like social networking is a ship we wouldn’t let our mothers board because we share our problems with strangers, thinking they understand when they’re sitting in front of computer screens doing the same.

FelixFelicis.

They say love is like magic…if that’s the case, then heartbreak is a curse... and I guess I’d be the Boy Who Lived. Living in a cupboard under the stairs seeking your attention…or maybe even some affection just as long as it was coming from your direction.

‘Cos every second I spend without you is much worse than the Cruciatus, now for the next 2 minutes I’ll be completely honest. I always thought we were destined, like Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger…that we shared the deepest connection like cores shared between wands and phoenix feathers. Trying to deduce a way, magical or not that we could be closer. And if I had to describe how you make me feel…wingardium leviosa. Or maybe a dose of Felix Felicis. Because it must be illegal to feel this good from something you don’t have. When I see you…you’ve got me stupefied, jinxed into silence with jelly legs. Stuck in place like petrificus totalus and basilisk glares. In an instant, I have no fear of harm. Think of your smile…then Patronus charm. So I’m standing here, hoping I could tell you that the back of your head is RIDDIKULUS, like banishing monsters in closets…but I’m confunded. Worse than confused, ‘cos you’re sweeter than Honeydukes and I want to Time Turner every moment I ever spent with you.

I’m trying to alohamora the lock to your heart, wishing I could reducto the walls you’ve built around it so that the chase would be over like Seekers in Quidditch games. If it was ever broken…then reparo. If that doesn’t work, then spellotape and protego. Protect it with vigilance like goblins in Gringotts, constantly trying to get to know you better through your SIM card. Until the day that you let me into your Chamber of Secrets…and I could be the diary that replies back at the times you’re the weakest. For you, I would swim to the deepest depths of the darkest lake, past merfolk and grindylows. Fight past mythical creatures and fire breathing dragons with no championship to be aiming for. You are my Triwizard Champion, but with no one else in contention. So I feel obligated to mention…

You have me effectively disarmed and I’m under your spell…that’s clear as nighttime strolls in invisibility cloaks. And all I ask is that you put on the Sorting Hat, hoping that it tells you that you belong...in my house. ‘Cos I would sacrifice for you, similar to Dumbledore. Be the general of this man’s army and we can last forever like Nicolas Flamel and Sorcerer’s Stones. More than a timeline of all seven books, if each one was a horcrux made to keep us together…but better. So get the healers to lock me up in St. Mungo’s, because I am love sick. No potion can cure me, and what you’ve used is closer to the dark arts. But I’m willing to take the gamble like Exploding Snap with card sharks. So clearly, I’m see-through, almost feeling Nearly Headless. So I confess this all without veritaserum hoping that I won’t regret this. So I'm trying to find the Marauder's map to your soul…

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good”. Because I’m trying to steal your heart and provide a bandage…and if I ever succeed, then “mischief managed.”

IWasTryingToWriteAPoem

Now this poem ain’t complicated to any extent, because all I did was try to write a poem.
See, I was trying to write a poem that was better than anything I’ve ever written before…I tried to write something different. I wanted to give life to something more than just another love poem like every piece I’ve already performed.
I was trying to write a poem beyond all the lines you would probably expect from me by now like...
“Girl, you are so beautiful. You’re so attractive you make my jaw drop all the way to floor tiles and I end up mopping them with my drool…then my mouth snaps back shut just so I could bite my tongue, prolonging the feeling of my heart telling me I could never have you. At the same time my eyes pop out of eyelids and sockets reminiscent of Loony Toons while I’m singing the same loony tunes about the feeling of true love like it was the first time all over again.”
But then that’s just what I always do…so I decided to try something else.

Then, I was trying to write a poem about what I think about on a daily basis.
Until I realized how difficult that was because it would have been complete nonsense to all of you…and I mean all of you. Don’t believe me? Here’s what it might have been like…
“In a daydream of epic proportions, unconscious thoughts extend from hopes and dreams that I wish for while wishing for genies in lava lamps. It starts through slits in masks I sneak through hallways of intergalactic spaceships in search of polkadotted purple panda bears and little green men named Yoda. With the steady measured pace of awesome ninja skills and unnecessary uses of grappling hooks and shuriken, I run into Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles asking if they can chill, and I say ‘sure you can’.”
Like I said…it’s a random assortment of random thoughts, so I thought it wasn’t such a good idea.

Soon enough I was trying to write a poem using my iTunes as a guide. But then that ended up as just me trying to relate random titles together to make a love story out of band names and wordplay, like…
“It’s a known fact that most Boys Like Girls. You and I, were like The Cool Kidz In The Hall in Kooley High sharing affection like blunts in search of an Epik High while we watched Japanese Cartoons. But I’ve reached an All-Time Low, as A Fire Inside our Matchbook Romance starts to Wayne…Lil by little because clearly we were never ‘N Sync. All of a sudden, to you I’m an OutKast labeled Public Enemy number one and this Fiasco begins to Usher a Brand New circus of Factz as I realize we had nothing in Common. Taking a ride in a Death Cab just for a Cutie listening to Musiq has left me slightly Disturbed and Dumbfoundead, trying to understand why I participated in the Ludacris act in the first place. My Chemical Romance has left me wishing on Planes I’ve Mistaken For Stars hoping this Dashboard Confessional is carried to Angels by Airwaves. Trying to escape bad memories I hop on Jets to Brazil to meet with my Cobra Starship, with A New Found Glory In search of a Wonder Girl. And on my journey I learned that Pretty Girls Make Graves, so the next time I see her, I bid her a ‘Hellogoodbye’.”
But I doubt any of that made actual sense…

So in the end, here I am. With a poem about writing poems…but in the end I came up with this short haiku right here and it goes a little something like…

“No more love pieces.

Because I’ve written too much.

I like bananas.”

Undefeated

Pass me rock like Stockton to Malone

A clone, blessed with the gift to break the 2-3 zone

Ewing high-tops with the high-top fade

Cavalier dagger like an MJ fade

Over Craig Ehlo, did I hurt your ego?

The Hawks ain't nothing I fly higher than an eagle

Pistol Pete range then I post up like Boozer

D like Artest 'cos I fear that I'll lose her

On the fast break. Send it to the hoop

Slam it down fierce to complete the alley oop

Halftime show playing Nas like a hero

Maybe you can win if you take another free throw

...Then retire. Check out my attire

Always stay official like head umpires

Plus the refs. I'm LeBron James living

A champion with the "mic" like Pippen

Then I lay up, hang time so I stay up

Try a little pump fake so you wake up

Stojakovic...on my waist, so hit up the pager

I'm an all-star, emitting light like sabers

Calm your mind down like Jazz in the air

If you care, get a nice stitched jersey over there

Pull behind the back crosses like CP3

Hit the buzzer beater 3, at the end of OT

I'm the opposite of Bradley, never dunk on me

With the finger wag swag like Mutumbo on D

I'm Shaq in the post, y'all a kryptonite nuisance

Forget playing games, yo I'm on my Mark Cuban