the Rare Poet
| Kanye West - Don't Look Down (The Phoenix S .mp3 | ||
 | ||
 | Found at bee mp3 search engine |  |
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Don't Look Down
I've been really feeling this song lately. Need some motivation in my life where none can otherwise be found. And so enters the music. (Don't get me wrong...I do realize that I have plenty to be thankful for, but sometimes the truth gets muddied by life's confusion) Enjoy this one, and check out Kanye's website for weekly new music here ----> http://kanyewest.com/
the Rare Poet
"Don't Look Down" --- Kanye West ft Lupe Fiasco, John Legend, & Big Sean
the Rare Poet
Sorry I've Been Gone So Long
I'm sorry that I haven't posted in such a long time...guess I've been mad busy lately. But forever writing and forever sharing. Just finished this piece not too long ago (literally a few minutes...lol). I'm liking it, although I'd love some feedback. Enjoy.
the Rare Poet
A.M. Coffee (A Revolution Piece)
Cue the bass, belting a jazzy rhythm
stereotypical of all we thought we knew....
"I need some coffffeee...
coffee to pick me up and move
get my day going, my juices flowing
got to be rich and got to be smoooth...
coffffeeee
sweet, like traces from heaven
to motivate my methods, get 'em right
by seven...ooooh
coffeeeee, mix in the cream
thick like my affection, satisfaction rises with steam
baby I mean coffee
mmmm....got to get that
just one sip, and there's no turning back
cofffffeeee...."
then I scream fuck that
fade the music, I need to take my coffee
black, no sugar, no cream
harsh just like the reality that waking up so often brings
in a land where oppression still takes spotlight over dreams
this just in on CNN, something negative like
all the other shit we've seen
I need my coffee to run jagged down my throat passage
like the nation's 10% unemployment rate and the
burden of trying to get past it
feel the sting of the liquid burning constant like reminders
of an economy going down in flames, politicians only seeking blame
and all the people picking sides instead of trying to find ways
to sustain
this ain't no fucking pick me up
this is an attempt to just remain
vital enough to make a difference
keep my eyes wide enough to seek deliverance
up this early, because I'm focusing on
grinding, survival
sleep abandoned me last night anyway, so I had to put to rest
my denial
so my coffee is black, and harsh, and stale
reminds me that current living ain't well, but inspires me to keep giving
my best effort as I try to effect this
by seeking out alternate trails
new avenues to place my feet to
because I've been walking in the same hopeless circles
dirtying my hands in the very same ways, then looking up
confused when I see no virtue
a virtual nightmare, but this has the feel of real
has my pen in constant motion, plotting out my mass appeals
has my tears spill when I'm overtaken
by the pressures,
the worries, and the problems, plus all my fears
drink a.m. coffee to combat this early morning
"not again" sensation, drink it
quick and get prepared to deal again, here comes
frustration
like the same local policemen, who've seen me walking to the
same parks for years, yet they have the audacity
to slow down, and just stare at me
eyes looking like they wish I wouldn't stare back
I feel like they're prejudging me
questioning what's in my backpack
....half a dozen notebooks,
and two books by some authors you've never read
the beginning scribes of all the emotions
pouring constant from my head
a tape recorder for my thoughts, a digital camera my sister bought
lottery tickets that didn't win, a few pencils, a few pens
and all the mounting frustration, wondering when shit like this
will end
that's what I carry with me, daily
hoping that just maybe, my a.m. dash of caffeine
keeps my mind motivated
running into the same homeless man at the local
city lake
he sits down, I say good morning, thus begins our give and take
"brother, can you spare a dime?"
and though I haven't worked in two years, I'd gladly give him mine
if I didn't take in the growing
track lines on his arm, because he doesn't bother to
hide them
I wonder what's the difference between me and him
did his run from his worries once begin with morning mochas and
somehow get blurry, the java no longer strong enough
so now he pumps lava through his veins
we talk about pain, promise, poetry and the blues
he brings up a few well known bible verses
I tell him we can go get him something to eat
but he says he'd prefer some booze
his liquid of choice, like my a.m. coffee
used to keep feet from sinking
I slide a couple bills, tell him he should buy food instead
but his eyes tell me what he's thinking
"why bother?"
like a swallow of black coffee
no sugar, no cream
harsh is this scream of
hope not believed
a reminder that life comes exactly how we take it
it is up to us to mold it
we're the ones who have to change it
or forever complain
of bittersweet
the Rare Poet
A.M. Coffee (A Revolution Piece)
Cue the bass, belting a jazzy rhythm
stereotypical of all we thought we knew....
"I need some coffffeee...
coffee to pick me up and move
get my day going, my juices flowing
got to be rich and got to be smoooth...
coffffeeee
sweet, like traces from heaven
to motivate my methods, get 'em right
by seven...ooooh
coffeeeee, mix in the cream
thick like my affection, satisfaction rises with steam
baby I mean coffee
mmmm....got to get that
just one sip, and there's no turning back
cofffffeeee...."
then I scream fuck that
fade the music, I need to take my coffee
black, no sugar, no cream
harsh just like the reality that waking up so often brings
in a land where oppression still takes spotlight over dreams
this just in on CNN, something negative like
all the other shit we've seen
I need my coffee to run jagged down my throat passage
like the nation's 10% unemployment rate and the
burden of trying to get past it
feel the sting of the liquid burning constant like reminders
of an economy going down in flames, politicians only seeking blame
and all the people picking sides instead of trying to find ways
to sustain
this ain't no fucking pick me up
this is an attempt to just remain
vital enough to make a difference
keep my eyes wide enough to seek deliverance
up this early, because I'm focusing on
grinding, survival
sleep abandoned me last night anyway, so I had to put to rest
my denial
so my coffee is black, and harsh, and stale
reminds me that current living ain't well, but inspires me to keep giving
my best effort as I try to effect this
by seeking out alternate trails
new avenues to place my feet to
because I've been walking in the same hopeless circles
dirtying my hands in the very same ways, then looking up
confused when I see no virtue
a virtual nightmare, but this has the feel of real
has my pen in constant motion, plotting out my mass appeals
has my tears spill when I'm overtaken
by the pressures,
the worries, and the problems, plus all my fears
drink a.m. coffee to combat this early morning
"not again" sensation, drink it
quick and get prepared to deal again, here comes
frustration
like the same local policemen, who've seen me walking to the
same parks for years, yet they have the audacity
to slow down, and just stare at me
eyes looking like they wish I wouldn't stare back
I feel like they're prejudging me
questioning what's in my backpack
....half a dozen notebooks,
and two books by some authors you've never read
the beginning scribes of all the emotions
pouring constant from my head
a tape recorder for my thoughts, a digital camera my sister bought
lottery tickets that didn't win, a few pencils, a few pens
and all the mounting frustration, wondering when shit like this
will end
that's what I carry with me, daily
hoping that just maybe, my a.m. dash of caffeine
keeps my mind motivated
running into the same homeless man at the local
city lake
he sits down, I say good morning, thus begins our give and take
"brother, can you spare a dime?"
and though I haven't worked in two years, I'd gladly give him mine
if I didn't take in the growing
track lines on his arm, because he doesn't bother to
hide them
I wonder what's the difference between me and him
did his run from his worries once begin with morning mochas and
somehow get blurry, the java no longer strong enough
so now he pumps lava through his veins
we talk about pain, promise, poetry and the blues
he brings up a few well known bible verses
I tell him we can go get him something to eat
but he says he'd prefer some booze
his liquid of choice, like my a.m. coffee
used to keep feet from sinking
I slide a couple bills, tell him he should buy food instead
but his eyes tell me what he's thinking
"why bother?"
like a swallow of black coffee
no sugar, no cream
harsh is this scream of
hope not believed
a reminder that life comes exactly how we take it
it is up to us to mold it
we're the ones who have to change it
or forever complain
of bittersweet
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