Dear America,
What would have happened if we never stole this land?
Never polluted it with our cold superiority,
our ships swarming with sickly death,
our flashing bullets thirsting for blood.

If the people native to this land,
who tended it as a arboreous, continental garden,
were allowed to remain, 
in entirety?

Rather than as the scattered splinters
of the last tree standing
in a sacred forest,
burned to the ground
by the unquenchable flames of greed.
 

---

Dear Europe,
how do you feel that your reckless descendants
have polluted The New World
worse than the old?

That they have crushed it beneath 
hundreds, thousands, 6.5 million pairs
of heeled boots and polished dress shoes,
stilettos and Nikes,

Toppling the refuge of ancient forests,
Soiling the clear waters with the mud caking their soles,

 

This is another song that I wrote, but with My Perpetual Wednesday helping with the background vocals. It's about as different from the last one as you can get, by the way. I still don't have a name for it, so suggestions would be cool.    

Here's a rap I've been working on recently. Finally got around to recording it. 
Beat by DJ Ray, lyrics by yours truly (apologies for minor swear word at the beginning). And please, put down your cellphones every once in a while.
 

Here's a rap I wrote and recorded this morning. Unfortunatley, my voice was a little quiet, so lyrics are hard to catch. Music made with Soundtrap.com. Enjoy!
 

more music! for a while i couldn't finish any of the songs i started for some reason, so obviously i didn't post them. here's 2. 

the first one isn't all that remarkable but it came out sounding almost exactly how i wanted it to, which is really rare with my music. 

Love of mine, someday you will die
But I'll be close behind and I'll follow you into the dark
No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white
Just our hands clasped so tight, waiting for the hint of a spark

If heaven and hell decide that they both are satisfied
And illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs
If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark

In Catholic school as vicious as Roman rule
I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black
And I held my tongue as she told me,
Son, fear is the heart of love, so I never went back

If heaven and hell decide that they both are satisfied
And illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs

Silvi, 32, a card shark. Always looking for the hustle.

Tonight, she can be found in the small club downtown, wearing blue stilettoes and an ivory evening dress, a patterned shawl draped over her shoulders and Foofoo sitting on the booth seat next to her.

Her little dog, the kind that fits in a purse, the kind that some people call a "purse rat," his name was Foofoo. Yes. Cringe. But, really, we should feel sorry for Foofoo.

He never understood what this "hustle" was that Silvi was always looking for. She carried him around in her blinged-out, overpriced, leopard print hand bag and ruffled up his little head saying "Foofoo, there's the hustle. I see it. We're almost there..... Mama's gonna her her hustle."