2017.02.27

Honesty = vulnerability. The white lies we tell to hide what we really think or want. The shells we live in, to appease the expectations of others, even though the confined space is killing us. The fear of losing love or its perceived security, our inability to detach, leaves us gasping for air. Surrounded by mountains of inaccurate statements and misleading sentiments to keep others interested. Compounding exponentially, our debt of lies suffocates any possibility of freedom. That is until you tell the truth. Those butterflies, that strange but familiar bottomless pit in your stomach that you so desperately attempt to avoid. The feeling after you realize the light you seek, that release you desire will only be obtained after the weight has been lifted. But now the aftermath. The journey from lie to turmoil to truth to turmoil to acceptance....Embrace the pain, repay the debt with truth!

-Yung Urban

WsOeRxD

Four rounded eyes, de-glassed and unmasked
Analyzing valleys and ridges encircling a pit of pitch black
Through the dark portal, not of despair, but of compassion
Breathing is labored and skin perspires, rivers of sweat penetrate
Lashes flutter with ease, nostrils flare with every ingress of oxygen
Lips moistened by the slick lick of a pink tongue desperate for attention
Teeth exposed ever so slightly, ready to caress flesh
Motions are slow and calculated, body is humming - full of commotion
Blood is flowing with each passing moment
Hands placed gently on each hip, grip, firmly reel in prize
Half cocked to the side, your mind slides, and you subtract your eyes

- YungUrban









-Yung Urban

Bad Blood

Swollen trees feed on forbidden fruit

Sweaty palms gripping tips of truth

Hum along seams of folded heat

Synchronized movements of taste and beat

Slow rotations when faces meet

Life of thrust, deep and penetrating 

Hell of a sound her body's emanating

Eyes connect 

Time reflects

Quickened pace

Seasoned taste

Silent how could she, panting and baiting

Surrender control my passion its feeding

Slick lick from spine to mind

Lip tucked, teeth bare the climb

Expose the freak

Touch, Came, Seek

-Yung Urban

Let it go

Eyes red and strained from the pain
Wet from the lies we told and the hatred that remains
Time was supposed to heal us so that we may start again
But when does life ever appreciate those who try to pretend
Hiding from the truth we bask in our own ignorance
Attempting to defy reality with the words of religious rhetoric
Day after day exhibiting our failures like seasoned veterans
Raising the decibels until a scream is met with a crash
And everything you felt was the past comes out in flash
The why this and why that, the I hate you's and fuck your fact's
Hand pressed to my temple, hoping this dream is only temporal
But that would be too simple
It's like the school of life told you to take this test with a pen instead of a pencil
You look for something stronger to take the edge off a little bit longer
You start to imagine how much baggage you're packing
And if you're destined to be alone based on everything they said you were lacking
All I can do is let it go
All I can do is let it be
All I will do is forget about them
And take each step like anyone would be lucky to have the best and worst of me.


-Yung Urban

Erotic thoughts

Can I touch your lips, caress your cheeks.
Hold your waist until all that's left is heat.
Been alone for so long, even when I wasn't.
Now all I hear is crying and cussing.
Painful realizations are usually one-sided.
But tears for some reason get me excited.
Intimate desires just out of my reach.
Can you howl for me as I tickle your feet?
Can you pretend I didn't just lick your teeth?
Activities I design, may or may not require a waiver.
I hope work pissed you off and you're on your worst behavior.
Ebb and sway in the waters of our forplayed lake.
Dictating my position until I deposit my coins in the bank.
Disgusting oh is we, please don't be friendly.
Saliva by numbers erogenous zones in a frenzy.
Hand around your neck, safety words in effect.
Biting a little harder then you would expect.
On all fours, my interests intrigued.
Mounting my attentions vigorously.
My rival ready for the battle of P's.
"Arriving" together so eloquently.






-Yung Urban

Starting new

Eyes tell you about a person before their mouth ever opens. 

A historical timeline of past events that hints to one's purpose.

Littered amongst broken hearts and destroyed dreams.

Remnants of hope, battle-ridden, and hidden between the seams.

Threads of life guided by a faint light, wondering if those sacrifices were for naught.

Hoping that love is a big enough beacon to attract the person we've always sought.

Glimpses of a future reality, fed by the words of sincerity.

An existence where the presence of disappointment is a fallacy. 

Hard to imagine a life without the one you used to but still kind of love.

Hard to ignore the good regardless of how bad the bad really was.

If your heart has changed, then pick up your quarters and move to another game. 

A new love discovered or an old flame recovered.

Just a thought of the one you love should erase all the mistakes,

all the regrets, all the unavoidable fights that left an empty shell in your place.

Don't change, because who you are, is destined for someone else.

Pay attention to the red flags and always remain true to yourself. 

-Yung Urban

Realisticness

Memories on bended knee. 

Remarkable discoveries of a love I felt needed me. Through the thickets of time bought by borrowed feelings. Unbeknownst to the hearts of many who thought everything was progressing swimmingly. 

What started off as a beautiful poem, bloomed into countless I love yous and what followed was the construction of my many flawed views. To easy to confuse the line between love and lust, as if man had but to simply choose his feign, for she marked a trend that no women could change. 

She represents the depths of abuse, a portrait documenting a pattern of truth. That love is but a ruse blinding the eyes and clouding the mind. Sacrificing logic and reason for buttered lies and thieving. 

One loses their fight for existing,  to forever be bound by societies administered doctrine. Fishing in a pond of followers and cowards, aimlessly avoiding interaction to avoid confrontation. 

Imaging these ideals in front, behind, and around all sides of one's history. Blistering and festering enigmas of reality. Invoking and anointing for God's assistance persistently. 

"I Love You" belts off the tongue like a rehearsed performance, but we tolerate disappointment in abundance. Fear grips the unknown,  and as I imagine life without what I've conversed about, I'm convinced it's dependent on those bold enough to drudge through what it surmounts.

August 28th

Painful memories of a time
Tattered American flag struggling in the breeze
Historic corpses littering the trees like old fruit that got stuck on a branch as gravity ran its course
Blood rinsed away by the jets of water the police spray
Canine soldiers grasping at ethnic straws, limbs and spirits crushed in their jaws
Whips and chains, skin disappear as welts raise like yeast
Rope and transportation, sliding around town like I was heading for home plate
Boycott products as non violent resistance, while colored signs dictate where I can and can't be
Assassinations of progressive leaders who represent faith and hope
A people imprisoned grasping desperately to their soap on a rope
Despite every injustice he had a dream
Dr King exclaimed that Negros weren't free
He described a world of discrimination and poverty
A people destroyed mentally and physically but never spiritually
And on that fateful day, calm and collected on those iconic steps

"...when we allow freedom ring -- when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet,
from every state and ever city, we will be able to speed up that day when all God's children --
black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics -- will be able to join hands and sing
in the words of the old Negro spiritual: Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

History repeats itself as evident by our consistent predicaments
Only time will tell if we can gain more then our current sense
If compassion and justice will mean more in future rather than past tense
Pointless destruction of human life and faithless abominations of what used to be
Fifty years later...still awaiting a collected effort to meet the expectations of what Dr. King longed to see




- Yung Urban

Make Fucking Love to Me!

Deadly lips of glossed cherry, akin to poison berries. 

Skin velvety smooth, fluid as liquid hips groove.

Drive me crazy say he, right there right there oh baby.

Black and blue, welts, and scratches all but grunts subdued. 

Switching up the pace, faster and yet deeper ah yes.

Satisfy my intuitions, inhibitions, my secret vixen. 

Break me off a piece, please, don't deny this feast.

Lay your hand on my Butterfinger, Twix that ass up, and release your Skittles. 

No time to Lay, Ruffle my sheets, eating your face like candy hidden within the pillowcase. 

Red lit lens capture the touch of gentle rough emotion

Tuned hymns of satisfaction,  round 1 of the main attraction.

-Yung Urban

Memories

Historical memories bleed with emotional tenacity.
Heavenly remembrances of a divine capacity.
Times of change equate to days, months, years of more of the same.
To imagine is to again see the heat that the present has tamed.
Recognition without paying the initial admission.
Understanding my process without erroneous decisions.
I just want what I can't have, to "remagine" a former existence.
My heart desires as my body perspires, oh I pray for repentance.

-Yung Urban

Not sure

Be it mine, so contrite so divine
Happiness could be seen but now its defined
Understanding is only the begining, but for many the end
I can feel your desire for something higher, so I'll continue that trend
Love of my life, write of my kids, we're creating a baby girl meant for a king
All I can do is promote the values that life deems she should live
No more no less, failure or success
Not only hope, but performing yields the best 

-Yung Urban

Porridge

Pieces of the heart flowing bright red, hitting the brisk air as they turn sad blue. Telling me soft but so hard I gotta do what I do. Despite what you desire our unrivaled fire belongs to the unknown. Bowed head and swallowed pride, I turn tail and hide the instant destruction that has erupted my understanding like volcanic convulsions. In all my short lived confusion, i gained an understanding of the situation. And despite my faith led wishes, i had to relinquish my hold on those broken up dishes. Accepting reality and admiring your present mentality, in which, I'm the keeper of your secrets and fallacies. Where else could i imagine to reside, but right by your side, following the rules of true love by which I abide. I believe in you so much that I tattooed our creed on my heart. In black cursive script D.L.P. describes us like a flow chart. Started with desire when we first met, couldn't conceive the outcome sumn like russian roulette. Second is the love we display on the backs of our eyelids as we refuse to face the battered truth, stuck in our own worlds, driving to different destinations, both forgoing the tollbooth. And third is passion, the secret ingredient allowing our existence to ripe.......When I'm away i pray to have you back, when I'm close I pray that time speeds up, and when I'm with you I pray that our moments never end.

-Yung Urban

Philly Cheese Steak

When feelings and emotion are the determining factor,
When life changing choices are made to support him or her.
When your heart flutters at the sight, sound, smell, or thought of them.
When pride is laid by the wayside and you choose to address there every whim
Love, the greatest thought God could create. Blessed are we who live life to the fullest and not as an escape.
Not even distance can hinder the attraction or satisfaction of being with such a magnificent creation.
Love lasts forever and a day.
My baby, my heart, my can't wait to dream of u as my head i lay.
Commit to God fully and he'll supply all the support we need, he brought me you so the least we could do is practice what he preached.
Im your life filled loveanagger , because anything you need will be served on a platinum platter.
Be patient and kind, in spirit and mind, love hard and long, surrounded by the words of that golden song.
Baby I'm so ready to love, so ready to give, so ready to sacrifice my soul so that you may live.
Heaven or hell I'm right by your side, for

-Yung Urban

Excuse me, Excuse me, Can you let me out of here?

I dream, a man's dream. A Mike Lyles dream. Uninhibited by rules and ways of life. Free from the self proclaimed and obtained boundries of invisible things. For in my realities I suffer terribly, hoping to rejoin the ranks of contractions without apostrophes. Back to the moon lite skies of midday and sunlite nights of passionate twilight. Oh how I dream of women bred to be themselves to think and feel like nothing else matters but internal bliss, where the shit we do benefits all and doesnt impede on how you feel about you. My soul bleeds as little me scratches to be uncaged, to reign amongst the fleas that bastardize everything that never made much sense to me. Too many people say I must be mentally unbalanced, for the processes of my mental are obscene and obscured. I feel then I dont, i hope then I cant, I desire then I aim higher. A vicious cycle that leaves ache in hearts place, but I refuse to displace my yellowed face behind the hinges of a confined space. I yearn for the oppurtunities of life, to not be contained by the fallacies of imagined sanity. Fuckk tears save them for crocodiles, FREE MIKE LYLES!!!!!!!!

-Yung Urban

Dreams

I lay restless hoping to drift to the land of dreams
Halted constantly by visions that aren't as they seem
Startled into reality desperately wanting my fantasies
Consistent adjustments are not enough apparently
So I lay on my back caressing the ceiling with my eyes
Hoping the sandman replenishes the sand where they lie
Why o Why must I be deprived of what's owed to me
Its behind my closed lids that I see with whom I long to be
The pain I feel is bearable only to the undreaming man
I sacrifice body and mind to witness her spirit anyway I can
I run no I sprint to this bed of ours, hoping to relive passed time
Ready to interpret the actions and gestures your memory mimes
Not even blind eyes or mute mouth could deter me from what it wants
Cut out my heart or curse my soul, but my dreams will remain untouched
You would be laughing if you were here to see my state
Kissing and massaging your pillow like some virtual date
I'd treasure my "ache of missing" if it was all that remained
Goodnight my love, see you when i rest my head and dream again.

-Yung Urban

I was here

Balanced symphonies sound the hymns of muffled dreams. Concerned more with the end of times then the passion behind the moments. Intrigued by the face of the author instead of the soul of the writer. Zombies of biblical proportions inbred atrocities of human emotions. I wanna leave my body’s chalk print outlined in the minds of everyone’s lives. I wanna feed these lines into all of your orifices until your swimming like knowledge-famished porpoises in windowless offices. Feed on the sensations of painful realities. Reaffirm one’s reality by testing integrity and publically exposing the sins of your own hypocrisies. Remember how to forget for existing in the past without the ability to persist is as bad as showing up for a field trip but leaving your parental consent. If only my melodies could sound as heavy as a bey-huds-icated lyrical masterpiece. Technological ubiquity allows us to humbly reside anywhere that we decide, so why in the fuck do we continue to die in body, spirit, and mind. Why come we fear success but brave useless, proclaim sanity but display chaotic, feel lost….but never seem to use gps? I was, I am, I will be…………

-Yung Urban

Forget you not

Malicious and vicious describes the hips of a vixen.
Nothing but an apron on cooking in the kitchen.
Erotically massaging the temples of my missile.
varying degrees of position but the motion is simple.
We're giving the engines time to engage.
so that insertion is properly arranged.
Don't want to start off to fast, so we slow it up.
Hypnotic rotations make the juices slowly erupt.
Late night escapades while the room's surrounded.
Many muffled sounds but my name is candid.
Kool-aid smile represents my ego.
She says its too big but mama ain't feeble.
Riding that stallion like no other could.
Holding on with her talons but it feels so good.
Sex is always the same, but this is somehow different.
If I was creating a masterpiece she would be the reference.
Shirts torn, rug burns, shorts thrown, undies gone.
Mouth gaped, spine arched, cover clinched, for goodness sakes.
Sitting on my bedroom floor gives us time to reminisce.
Fast asleep in my arms aspiring to be Mr. and Mrs. Smith.
Waking up to the smells of a freshly prepared breakfast.
It's almost time for work but I don't think we going to make it.
A shame all that food went to waste.
But honey and syrup took its place.
Hand an Hand up the stairs and into the shower.
Caressing every depression in all directions for hours.
Body doubled over with my paws on your shoulders.
Slow, deep strokes got our legs feeling like boulders.
Its been a minute since I had these feelings.
The butterflies carrying me up and through the ceiling.
I can honestly say I'll forget you not.
Me, you, and the kids sailing off on the yacht.

-Yung Urban

Emotions

Wet rain falls against tempered glass, picking up every hitch hiker they pass.
Resembling pain in such a way that my eyelids are windshield wipers, squeeging the emotions my mind's deciphered.
Only if that were true, but because of you, Im blue ball blue.
So confused my brain doesn't know which reality to keep and which fantasy to spew.
Lips quiver as they turn tender from the hypnotic massage of my moistened sponge.
Flying on a cloud of rain as I trace the canyons of my companion and into the ocean I plunge.
Dictate my position as your physician so let the neighbors listen and unconsciencely gyrate to the sounds of little deaths at a consistent pace.
Kiss me mental death and be wet as thy flesh slivers to and fro my chest.
Active forces dismantle cosmic proportions which alters love's courses.
Not even the breath of bitter separation, could unknit the greatest sticth woven by the greatest niche.
Even with a desire as great as mine, only time and devine serenity bred by trusting once enemy's as a group and individually.

-Yung Urban

WTF

Don't say anthing to me just smile and show me those pretty teeth. Spread those delectable dimples and allow me to kiss you soft and simple. Extend your delicate fingers and grab hold of your future. Nevermind the cuts and bruises I'll be your suture. I don't want anything extra or over the top, I want you as original as a pre cut rock. Be amazing for you because the pieces of life will fall as they do, and if I'm as right as this feels then my dreams coming true.....But then my eyes awaken to the remnats of a lovers paradise, glimpses of happiness fade back to my lonely paradox. Time once again speeds up, and my world blends into a steaming cup of what the fuck.

-Yung Urban

In progress...

Blazing my brazen path despite shoes untied. I trip and slip, but my blunders never defeat my stride. My sultry hymns of alphabetic rhythms mollify any over-emonic expressions. Like my visions confined to tinted sections. I fear only being misunderstood by my favorite condition. For my world is bound by my marital apparition, my newly sanctified addition.  

-Yung Urban

Niggers and History

Fear embraces the hearts, souls, and faces of every prejudicial racist. Fear of the unknown grips them and inhibits them from realizing the invaluable chemistry of niggers and history.  Let society’s media infrastructure be the catalyst for our opinions about urban culture, favoring the funds produced from our physical fortunes. Beat into mental submission by the slave owners of American traditions. The one’s whose wealth signs the checks that make us sing and dance with out shame or regret. Niggers of yesterday worked until bloody and broken, spirit hurt and soul shaken. Bonded by metal shackles that ripped the flesh of their inner and outer beings. Today’s niggers rap and sing about diamonized figurines, about violating our fallen queens, with that persona who are we to bitch and complain. We’ve become human equines, whipped and ridden towards America’s checkered flag. Rambunctious hooligans maiming each other from foolish pride. Some how after decades of progress and deaths, “ER’s” became obsolete and “A’s” became the best. A generation mentally oppressed by themselves, to the point where the fight was abandoned and self-destructive acceptance was next. Doomed to repeat our existence as physically fit but mentally weak niggers of history.

-Yung Urban