The Optimistic Insomniac.

Some people like to lay in bed and think,

Well I prefer to sleep.

Because laying there pondering the wonders of my world that late, to me, just seems too deep.

And on those nights when I can't fall asleep

Questions arise in my head that I find strange and unfamiliar. Like:

If you're driving down the highway and you cut someone off, and he doesn't have a thumb, is he still giving you the middle finger?

But see, these questions don't come because of the influence of any drug or substance,

But because I never bothered to build up walls to contain my imagination.

See, my imagination is my escape when I turn on the TV to a News that should be rated R.

R for redundant, reprobated, risky and repugnant.

For those radical realists who reach for resistance from recreant ringleaders who rarely get revealed for what they really represent.

In this world I've seen people get attacked.

Not because of what they believe in

But because of what others don't.

I'm watching this world fall apart

Not because of what people are doing

But because of what people won't.

But we're told:

"Stay in school," "Do your best,"

"Study hard," "Ace the test,"

"The real world is hard."

Well no f***ing kidding

Because nothing I learned in this classroom,

Will I be repeating.

You see, as a person,

I'm more than the sum of my broken hearts.

And I'm not going to compromise to hypothesize the changes that might take place,

Because, I don't know about you, but I'm tired of running in this fixed human race.

I have a better Idea,

How 'bout a fun run?

Where the prize is success

And everyone gets one.

Or how about a game of Scrabble for those with smarts

Or maybe pictionary for those with a knack for the arts?

In my utopia,

Everyone wins.

Hearts are invincible

And there is no sin.

The dreams are many

And the nightmares are few

Love is abound

Hate is subdued.

I build these ideas up

Only to be dissapointed.

You can imagine the insomnia

that seems to follow

As my head continues to spin.

While I try to come up with a plan

To create a world without

heartache, nightmares, or sin.

So while you stay up pondering over

Unpaid bills, that cute guy at work, or why you haven't heard the baby make a peep...

I believe now, you'll understand me when I say;

"I would rather sleep."

You Can't Always Get What You Want...

Have you ever screamed secrets at the moon?

You know those ones that even God pretends not to hear

Those secrets that sound like timeless poems envolcalized not because of any illiteration or format but simply because they are so damn honest? ..Neither have I.

But sometimes, sometimes, I drink my coffee as if its saving lives. You know those black-as-Malcom-Xs-Pupils pot-of-pure-potential nights? I let it crash down my throat like an oil spill riding the tide. And for a spilt fleeting Hudinni second I feel alive.

Because my friends, this world can feel so big and I can feel so small forget saving this earthly monster, I don't feel like getting out of bed at all. But some can't get out of bed at all. Some lay lifeless before they can crawl. I have dreams of atheists falling to bloody knees Please, I'll pray to you all

But you can't always get what you want....

Why do I know this world is so big? Because the term World Peace sounds childish. Because the word love, amore, amor'e is lost in sex and city star dust. I love, I love you, I love you. Why is that so hard to say? It's so much easier to say I hate you, I hate life, I hate me, I hate that I hate. I hate that it takes a six pack or mic to really get behind what I say. And thats the reason the only time I say what I mean is when I'm drunk or on stage. Sometimes a combination of the two. ...And that can get really realistic.

But you can't always get what you want....

You see we're humans. And I'm not talking about that propaganda slipped into our blood at birth that says that we naturally urge for sex and flesh and that its our instinct to hurt. Sorry, but that seems like a lid screwed on too tightly. 6 Billion humans agreeing what Human Nature is doesn't begin to explain what it could be. When I say human I mean creator. When I say creator I mean you. And this isn't a pep talk, I'm simply giving back what they took from you in school.

But you can't always get what you want....

Isn't it weird that those really big thoughts don't hit you when you're doing small tasks? Like day dreaming about a child being slaughtered in Sudan doesn't hit you while you're cutting the grass. But if it does it only stays for the length of a commercial. And then it's back to the main program starring us where we seek friends like Ross and Rachel.

But these things are happening. Trust me. This is it, this is reality. But so is beauty blooming inhale, exhale, balancing.

But you can't always get...

Even if you expect on getting it. I read up on someone who was tired of waiting, jumped right into creation and called it Genesis.

America the Beautiful Parody

O beautiful for spacious skies

Polluted beyond repair.

For purple mountain majesties

There are Wal*Marts everywhere.

America, America

We spread our trash on thee

And crown they good with brotherhood

Wherever the goods are free.

O beautiful for pilgrim feet

Who marched indians to their death

A thoroughfare of freedom beat.

Well, what good beats are left.

America, America,

Wall Street mend all of thine scars.

Confirm thy soul in self-control

From interns and pop stars

O beautiful for patriot dream
Of an umbrella drink on a beach somewhere
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Under years of wear and tear.
America, America
We'll "Go Green" to preserve thee.
With oil drills and oil spills
From sea to shining sea.

The Intro to My Act.

People ask if slamming is rap

I answer two-thirds

See the backbone to my rhymes

Is the meaning behind the words.

The words touch your heart

Feel the rhythm in your feet.

A linguistic gun in one hand

I don't need a beat.

I'll run circles around you.

But I'm no jock.

In the band for six years

I made the schoolhouse rock.

From the classroom to the stage

From my paper to your ears.

Love, Hate, Happiness,

Relationships, and Fears.

I'm that poetic aesthetic

I'll paint you a scene

Make the world seem less pathetic

Sad, as it may seem.

Everything you know about poetry, forget.

This is a different type of reading.

This is something you'll get.

I'm not here to change you,

Or blow your mind.

I want you to question yourself

And the answers you find.

I stand before you

With what time I got

To share with you some things

And to fill a time slot.

Poetry 101

It started off just a habit,

Something to pass the time.

A pen and some paper,

And some words that rhymed.

First family and friends

Lent a supportive ear.

Then over 300 people

Gathered to hear.

Slam is the poetry

I choose to speak

Real life is the material

I use to teach.

Drugs, Depression,

Alcohol, and Sex

With a little religion

Who knows what I'll use next.

I don't need a degree

To teach this passion.

All I need is a mic

And a touch of conviction.

So throw out your pencils,

Take a seat, and listen.

Welcome to Poetry 101.

Class is in session.

Emily Martin

September 6, 2010

Sex Sells

Kids are growing up faster than ever.

Every generation's just another younger mother.

It's on the TV, in the music, in the way we dress.

Is it really what we want? It's time to confess.

Because the only thing that sells anymore is sex.

When the shock factor's gone

What will they use next?

When kids start using words that make you blush,

Or when the prom queen is pregnant, and childhood is rushed,

Maybe when it's your kid who didn't use protection,

"But mom, it's ok, they made it on television."

What will it take

To make you see

That the reality that sells

Is on reality TV?

No one's entertained by the Honor Roll,

Working 9-5, or moral birth control.

It's when people mess up, or someone gets screwed,

But we're the entertainers, we're the ones who choose.

They can't Top the Charts, or Rock the Box Office

If the material they're selling doesn't entertain us.

Want the world to slow down? Then stop giving checks

To billion dollar companies who keep selling us sex.

July 23, 2010

I'm a Believer <>< (Extended Edition)

I'm searching for a word
Looking through the songs
Maybe a rhyme
Just to right the wrongs

A message in the sky
Maybe a sign from above
Noah had it right
Where's my branch and my dove?

Ask the non-believers
They're havin' a fit.
They look at my people
One word: hypocrite.

Saturday night;
"Hey they're playing my song!"
All seven deadly sins
Playing all night long.

Sunday morning
and it's a different story
Wake up just in time
To sing to His Glory.

Sit in the pews
Bow your head
Ask for forgiveness
...And do it all again.

Monday comes
You're back at work
Talk about the new girl
And how your boss is a jerk.

Chrome fish on your car
A Bible on your shelf
Grace before dinner
Yet you ask yourself:

Who am I really?
Why am I here?
If you'd crack open that Bible,
You'd find it's clear.

You're here to Live for Him
Because He died you you,
You're here to show people
Just what His love can do.

"Let your light so shine..."
See your way through the dark
Know that you're His
He lives in your heart.

To the non-believers;
I pray for you
Because I know that
My God loves you too.
(-June 14, 2010)

To all of you
It starts today.
I'm looking at the future,
And for this I pray:


That you stand for what's right,
Not afraid to take the lead.
Your life may be the only Bible
That some people read.


That no matter what happens
You remember Him.
Lord in your name I pray,
and play,
Amen.
(-July 12, 2010)