Memoirs of a Poet: Kc's tales

Dear future me,I really hope we found what we like,that our life is just how we pictured it,all together and right

I know you,well me had tough times and getting there,where we are now, was a journey, but I really do hope,that we began living for me

That we’re surrounded by true friends and a loving partner or wife,nothings wrong with the one we have now at twenty three,but even the weather changes over night

I just have to ask do the cars fly yet? I also know this one’s stupid but how about racism or are we still a member of the “other” race set?

Screw that last this letter is just about us,where do we live? Is it great? Is it home for us? There really is so much that I want to say to you ,but the words just don’t seem to want to spill

So I’ll end with an I love you and i promise to keep in touch

Makesi “Kc” Boodram

Oh as I sit on my throne of elegance,I sigh for the pressures of the day,now I bask in this moment of silence,the only one I’ve had just for me

My lunch was served with such elegance, now I sit and look back as it goes on its way,down that river with porcelain floors and a mouth that’s dark even at noon of day

My throne my throne I miss you and I prefer to sit on you in the nude,just I hate the embarrassing moments when some waltz in the room

You always make me feel lighter and look quite slimmer too, because of you I’m happier especially after my morning brew

You may be my throne for five minutes at times but to me that’s quite alright because, I sit on my throne when alls asleep because I can sit for hours through the night

So go ahead knock my throne it may not be the one you got,but when I shake my thrones hand and say Alpha Mike Foxtrot, my throne it just smiles back at me because it knows I’ll be back again in the eve at the very same spot

Makesi “Kc” Boodram

really sorry guys that i havent posted anything but alot has been happening that i need to sort out but i will be back..promise

xoxoxo

KC

Coming to the fork is sometimes the hardest but being at that fork can determine what comes forth with

Left or right but you want them both to be the same carry the things you’ve gathered and not lighten your burden or sacrifice after all its just a simple choice…right

Yet still you stand there unsure of your next move go right and do X go left and do Y,but its a path that’s all right just choose one and pray along the way you don’t die

Each path gives us hope one more than the next they both seem viable, but is viable pliable and after all isn’t it all about choosing the path that’s most suiting to you

Guess one leads us away from granma and the other just leads us along a short cut one thing for sure,troubles they both have but are we able to handle them or do we crumble and hide from them

X or Y we have to choose or just spend knowing because we did not choose,grandma died

Makesi “Kc” Boodram

Dearest Boyfriend the shit you call making love has to stop,I am not a rap hook, really sorry, but you can’t beat the pussy up

If you grab my hair one more time,I swear I will punch you in the face, and no, calling me slut or whore it will only guarantee me kicking you right in that little special space…don’t even try daddy’s dirty girl,I’m sorry are you saying you fucked my mother you may be ok with incest,but I’d chop your balls off for that

There is a difference between a whopp ass and a playful spank,if my ancestors didn’t like being whipped,I hated my parents whopping my ass, you think I’d be honkey dory with you slapping my ass praying your hand makes a mark

What were you asleep or did you not see us meet in a coffee shop,and not some trapeze or acrobatic show,really sorry there sport but my legs can’t go that far apart

You wrap those ashy fingers around my throat one more time, I promise to vomit in your mouth,oh and stop trying to carry on conversations with me when your head is down south,true your mouth is working but,movements only please no sound has to come out

So there, a few things above making love that you needed to know,just follow the guidelines and I guarantee you long life an awesome orgasms are bound to follow

Makesi “Kc” Boodram

Mother oh mother I tink yuh mad! Whole year the house has your stamp of approval,but come Christmas yuh want to clean down to the duht in de yard

Stretch muh body to limits they never reach,all because you want the curtain hang the right way and not like no rumffle sheet

I moping and polishing till even after I bathe I smell like the cleaner,ah fraid to lick muh finger when I eat cause I might end up in the chemical poison unit in the hospital after

All the nice food cooking but man cyah eat none! Somehow come Decemeber I feel I does become your house slave and go on vacation as yuh son

Tell me why is necessary to sweep behind things we, even you an all didn’t sweep behind for the year,or what was so wrong with the paint on the walls that we have to change the color this year

Burning rubbish and soaking brush in pitchoil,is real terrapie and yuh cyah say yuh doing this fuh santa, cuz we aint have to rasshole chimney so he aint passing by we

Lord knows I want to celebrate his son’s birth but I doh wa clean, man around furniture polish so long,feeling higher than Charlie Sheen

I done see is Christmas eve and I going in my bed rel late, cuz I writting this well after eight, and believe it or not I still have to paint the friggin fence and gate

Makesi “Kc” Boodram

Writers’ block you are a bitch,
I’ll be honest at that,
You hover and lie in wait,till our creative tanks have seem to run low,just to seem to have stolen the show

Cleaver little bugger you think you’ve got me against the ropes,but my will is stronger than yours will ever be! Try to hinder me as much as you want,but I will gain my freedom…just you wait and see

It may not be now nor at this hour but trust hold on to your seats because its coming,
Best believe from now once I hit the ground I’ll never stop running you won’t be able to stop me you may just have to dream of it

But then again I’m writing this so that means my reality has swiped your dreams and has made a meal of it
Or have I been duped…

Makesi “Kc” Boodram

Now our streets seem so empty at night,populated by only stray dogs the echoes of boots and the odd flashing blue lights

The night walkers no longer prowl our streets searching through bins, you no longer see those girls on the corner in the short skirts only when they bend over you realize below the skirt is nothing

No more do you see the glow of a cigarette or hear the crackle of a crack pipe,hell even the bats seem a lot less

Now the daunting question that rattles our brains,is,are we a lot safer or is this curfew driving us further insane,do we sleep at night now with an effortless ease our wondering if your door strong enough that it can’t be bust down

Then where you go run,who you go scream to help for,ha ha ha empty street people more afraid to look out, and well if you living in a hot spot as the government say, police go check you tomorrow

Is a scary reality we live in,when the bandits have the police bamcy clapping in fright…thank God for our soldiers but then again…

If you living in a hot spot you would have to be inside anyway before curfew that was a given rule,in before eight thirty or walk home and real pray

I’m a happy that our drains are filled with mossy green water and no longer has a hint of red, no longer do you see the news decorating our national pride in a negative way you know red blood stain white sheet with another black boy who get caught in the wrong place or who just living life the wrong way

Now I’m happier that no more candles line the street corners as a mother cries her heart out because her son just didn’t make it home today

Some may miss the wine and jam hell I do to…but ever since the curfew put in place,crime ease up and make us really realize what it mean to move free & live free without fear of anyone

So when the time for curfew has past I really don’t have no fear,Trinis love their wine and jam too much to let let some idiots put we in a next ninety days curfew next year

Makesi “Kc” Boodram

As he sits feet off the edge face buried in his palms as he allow his minds to project his thoughts onto the screen that is the darkness of the room

The saucer with his bread where ant once fed and now a roach scuries by, the plane engine in the sky roars as his cell phone light pours beams illuminating the part of his room

“We need to talk” was what the text said “I know you’ve got all my past messages” he knew he was dead or atleast he wished it…

How could someone so gifted at rhyming words in rythmn plot with a sick twist and, unbridal misfit have a problem at writing this bit, string letters together to form sentences he finally begins

As the tears flow from his face the pain the hurt he feels emotions start to rush from every angle as they drop pitter patter onto the page,in a writing frenzy rage he snaps the ballpoint pen in two

Krittic…click…crick…Boom!!

The splatter of brain matter cascade onto the page, the ruby red mist ascends slowly and before you know it

Those words he slung together signed with his name,brain matter and tears…those words that echoed so much he never said to your face well

Here its alll addressed to you…guessed what he signed at the end,nope not that…”I’m still trying to find the emotion to describe what I feel to you”

What?…sure I’ll read it to you…

Makesi “Kc” Boodram