PTSD
By Desmond Best
Poetry that has substance for the devoted,
The great-great grandkids of discouraged voters.
All the Nat Turners, Selassie Ts, Fredrick Douglasses, and the Maya Angelou poets.
I represent revolutionary militant-minded brothers, grandparents, and all the strong black baby mothers.
The indigenous, latinx, black and all the others.
Trapped in this universal struggle.
Working two jobs, with three legal side hustles.
Because in today’s world, capitalism infecting little boys and girls.
They can’t help but to be brainwashed, saving up, working their little day jobs.
Not knowing what they’re doing and what their missing incarcerated parents going through is way hard.
Even get on our knees and pray to God.
Praying y’all break the cycle.
I’ll provide the right tools,
And let that entice you.
The work I put in, I don’t get credit for,
So it won’t show up on my FICO.
Score a leg, so I can write this,
Smoking to stay sane, or maybe it’s doing the same thing,
Expecting different results, that makes this psycho.
Whether rain, sleet, or ice snow.
I weather the storm,
That’s FAMEUS, and that’s not no typo.
The E means everything.
It’s better than a Cuban link chain.
A Gucci interior limited-edition range.
One thousand acres with a lake,
And diamond encrusted gold fangs.
Having a trillion dollars and some change.
Change made sense, and since cents makes sense to an entrepreneur.
I burn with a desire to explore.
Drive and resilience, means everything when you’re poor.
I overcame obstacles, that seemed “Mission Impossible”.
“Tom” did his own stunts, and “Ethan” taught me, it’s nothing stopping you.
Life lessons, showed me how to have patients, like King’s County Hospital.
From the fire, I jumped head first into the frying pan.
In the concrete jungle, it’s either be prey, or a lion man.
I’m not Lion King,
Truth is, Zimba was blended in the grass camouflaged, stalking my lunch.
I started out as the runt.
The smallest in the pride, but my pride I want.
I want to say, I swallowed a lot like saliva.
That’s destiny child, I’m a survivor.
El Chapo and Escobar, aren’t the only suppliers.
Poetry is a drug, I’m kingpin of the ink pen.
Behind these bars, are toilets and sinks, let that sink in.
I’m sitting on more prisons than the whole U.S.
Or should I say, I have the most incarcerated,
Hold your attention hostage, yup you guessed.
I leave blank pages full of priceless paintings, peep the canvas.
St. Petersburg, Florida to Kansas.
St. Petersburg, Russia, Istanbul, to countries with belly dancers.
I have something for every race, every culture.
Life’s a coaster, and it’s a roller.
A rolling stone rolling stoned,
Where I hang my art is my home.
Keep something for criminals in my house,
Like Kevin home alone.
I didn’t get certain jewels until I was grown.
I started polishing them, putting them on display, like a jeweler.
From a class of my own, to opening my own school bruh.
Before Oprah and “Mr. and Mrs. Smith”.
“Will” they get it “Jana”, that’s the gift.
It’s an art to art.
The strong can’t out think the smart.
I’m swift, cook your ramen noodles with a stinger in a bucket.
Sitting in Sing Sing Correctional Facility, on stimulus duckets.
My mind may be polluted, but it’s not corrupted.
Pardon the smoke, but what’s prose with substance?
Poetry that stimulate the devoted, with the world on our shoulders.
All the Nat Turners, Selassie Is, Fredrick Douglasses, and the Maya Angelou poets.
R.I.P (Reality Is Poetic)
By Desmond Best
I feel like 2pac sitting in Clinton,
After the big screen premiere, and the music.
A taste of stardom, after the shootings.
No suge coming to get me, so please don’t confuse it.
I’m no genius, but I’m far from stupid.
I’m more like Tupac from Peru, to be anything else would be foolish.
Watching Fast and Furious, taught me about God’s eye.
They watching me hard. Why?
I’m a threat to their imperial system.
They’ll sue me, and play the victim.
Technology is a mother, but don’t forget Father Time.
After nine months, baby, consider these modern lines,
Although I wrote them while confined.
I’m liberty, and liberation, to the oppressed.
History is the answer, and the present is a test.
I make sure the future don’t end up under arrest.
My pen’s a body of work, the tip is my mouth.
Speak the truth, like the racism still deep in the South.
The Son of Sam law, keep most from elevating, once out of the Big House.
Target on our backs, me and my big mouth.
Will I go out fast like Paul Walker, wrapping my mind around these trees.
Standing tall like skyscrapers in Dubai,
This shyne can’t be deported to Belize.
The odds I beat, were not easy.
You couldn’t put them on, let alone walk in my shoes.
I started with bud, and stopped at booze.
It’s not a gateway drug, it’s a cure for PTSD, and a creative tool.
Life has a gigantic booty, and 40-DDD boobs.
I see beauty, in all her intricate little flaws.
Pain seeping from my pores.
I’m a humanitarian-holic, cold-turkey and patches don’t work,
No vice intervention, pit bull and parolees isn’t about the dogs.
My mission isn’t about being at the top of Forbes.
No models with bottles in hotels,
Or mansion with aventadors.
Reality is one big movie, I’m just the guy who does the scores.
Music to my ears, writing is an art, especially when you’re a poet.
Words are paint, this exhibit is stoic.
Beauty
By Desmond Best
When it rains, I listen to “Beauty” by “Dru Hill”, the feeling is too real.
I can almost see her crying herself to sleep every night.
Wishing I was home, I can only visualize, what that frustration must feel like.
Especially during trying times.
I’m assuming she’s thinking, nobody care about these Minutes Before Six tired lines.
I left it alone, although I didn’t feel right.
Thoughts of losing a parent, on her mind.
Support dwindled, visibility was at a minimum, so she couldn’t see the signs.
Life’s a race car and track, and she out there driving blind.
Love will make you do some crazy things, especially when you’re pressed for time.
We perform best under pressure,
It’s that pressure that made this diamond.
So little itty-bitty rain drops, remind me of her crying.
And it’s nothing I can do, but sit here in a cell, and drown in the pain.
Prose isn’t about the fame!
How can I be of any aid, when I’m in flames?
On the front lines of hell,
Trying not to go insane.
I’ll do more damage, than be of assistance.
Positive thoughts flooding my brain,
Can’t abandon my commitment.
I don’t care if it’s not an inferno,
Bet she respect my persistence.
Every tear drop created the ocean I’m currently swimming in.
I don’t know what planet or universe you’re living in.
But ours full of agony, and quietus, natural or otherwise.
I must confess, it’s not the thunder, it’s the lightning,
When it strikes in the same place three times,
It splits family trees, especially during summer times.
Why would I waste a moment,
I enjoy the beauty in the simple things.
I really love love, I’m ready to give beauty my government name.
Nobody warned me, when you find true love, you change.
Her tears helped numb my pain, doused every flame.
Until we collide, Queen and Slim will still write.
So people can endure, what it really feels like.
Being a couple, a couple states away,
With one trapped behind steel pipes.
No catfishing, when I show up,
I’m who I am in real life.
Impossible not to perceive what I jot down, it’s ill like.
Herpes and having Covid, and I still might.
Ride until the wheels fall off,
Sparks flying, no gas in the tank,
Hands on the wheel like.
Look at my drive, a pair is two conscious souls,
Intertwined to fulfill goals.
This doesn’t run off gas,
It’s electric, and I’m fully aware,
Of speed bumps and potholes in these roads.
We traveled far, before we met up.
So no matter what,
Empress, keep your head up, represent that crown.
As long as I’m up, you could never be down.
Before another man steals your heart, I’m all yours.
Love and poetry stole my heart,
I’ll admit it to all my dogs.
Our love is AIDS and Lupus, it’s no cures.
So why sugarcoat our vices, this what life is.
Art, and my art is an imitation of life,
Her mother passed before I could copyright this.
Everything I go through, escapes through the tip of my pencil.
It’s my camera, but being a director isn’t easy and simple.
What we’re building and filming, makes this bond far beyond just mental.
This is what my heart would sound like, singing over an instrumental.
Beauty in the flesh, goddess your body is a temple.
Novelty
By Desmen Best
I write Paramount Pictures,
Presents Famous Scriptures.
I take average words,
And make them A-Listers.
Showing dialogue from a woman’s perspective,
Like “Tyler Perry’s” “Sisters”.
Five options,
Life, karma, tender, poetry, and death.
That’s two law firm workers,
A salon owner,
An airport employee, and a bank teller.
Learned the truth about the mob,
But not from Goodfellas.
Books and American made.
This is redemption,
For every veteran slave.
All the unnamed strange fruits,
In unmarked graves.
That history books forgot to mention.
Every brother and sister,
That ever sat in prison.
Anybody that was ever poor,
Brainwashed or oppressed in any way by the opposition.
Even if the revolution is televised,
What about the blind,
That don’t have no other option but to listen?
And for the deaf,
I write so you can read.
So that’s audio and braille.
I right my wrongs,
So I can lead.
So even if I’m in jail.
I won’t disappoint or ever fail.
It’s not about quantity,
I care more about quality.
What’s better than having to start from prison and poverty?
Modestly incorporate reality and honesty.
My associates,
Isn’t college degrees.
Close minded,
If you can’t see the message in novelty.
Released
By Desmen Best
Because it “is what it is”.
Did what I did.
But didn’t let it deter me.
Now I refer me.
My name hold weight,
I got me,
So they don’t have to worry.
I’ma ride until the wheels fall off,
Or they bury me.
He really waited,
And welcomed me with open arms,
My first seconds out.
While I was getting dressed,
And before they gave me
Release papers no doubt.
I knew who was in the parking lot waiting.
Better than a love after lockup episode,
I’m dedicating.
This relationship,
I’ve been patiently anticipating.
Anxious for these past five decades,
Feeling like national rec aid.
Dedicate it to living it up,
And hibernating.
I’m programmed,
Like I’m happy with programs.
I’m The Hulk and Captain America mixed with Conan.
I’m more than just your average grown man.
I’m more than a son of a bastard.
I been plotting,
Four years before I wrote this in my tablet.
When it comes to surviving,
I’m a savage.
Welcome home!
Back in my zone.
Minutes Before Six,
Finally released to the masses!
Disadvantaged
By Desmen Best
It’s a war going on outside no man is safe from,
So what do you think is on guys’ craniums.
You wonder why folks stole vests,
Meant for Ukrainians.
Covid cases back on the rise.
People mentally suffering,
But wake-up and put on a disguise.
Displaying brave faces.
Too overwhelmed working two jobs,
To care about Space-X spaceships.
Or why Black and Latinx C.O.’s more racist.
Then their white coworkers,
They’re caught in the matrix.
Acting like they rich,
Or even wealthy,
When they’re really basic.
Living check to check,
Drained and coming to work wasted.
Bullets don’t have names,
Except the ones strays hit.
Unintended targets.
Gentrified communities,
Because the government stopped supplying funds for apartments.
Homes lost,
Combined with job losses.
Now they reversing laws to ban abortions.
So screw Elon buying Twitter,
I’m the voice for the voiceless corpses.
Incarcerated individuals,
With falsified evidence,
Which made most urban kids orphans.
Women feel me this Mother’s Day “weekend”,
And quite “often”.
Writing’s my super “powers”,
Minus the “arston”.
If it’s not on point,
It’s off-then.
One Time Square,
Got half a billion dollar face-lift.
New York’s a police state,
So proceed with caution in foreign spaceships.
I ran the city like “Eric Adams”,
Of course then the world wasn’t as racist.
Disadvantaged
By Desmen Best
I was young,
Moving like a “mayor”.
A game creator,
Not just a player.
Shooting my shot,
No ghost guns.
Approach women,
Not men asking who want smoke,
Like they were born with iron lungs.
Life’s “fiasco”,
Made my mental like “lasers”.
“Luke Skywalker” of poetry,
Welcome to “Star Wars”.
Out of this world,
Envisioning stars applauds.
I lost a lot of battles,
And words replace bars and walls.
That now speak volumes,
No more ifs or despite flaws.
I deliver better and faster,
Than drivers in shipping wars.
See how we’re as close to perfect.
As humans can get,
Especially knowing our purpose.
It’s about more than Balenciaga,
Expensive heels and purses.
They won’t tell you we’re God in churches.
Life is about more than bust-downs,
And acres purchased.
It’s deeper than pounds, yens, dinars,
Reals, Pesos, and Francs,
Consumers and merchants.
Capitalism,
Fuels greedy brainwashed souls.
Poor making poor choices,
On long dark roads.
Littered with overflowing trash,
Or paved with pure gold.
Yellow bricks,
Ruby slippers and pretty toes.
Life’s “Dorothy” in “Oz” dreaming,
Of getting off parole.
Clicking her heels,
There’s no place like home.
I’m no “Oprah”,
But it’s nothing like having your “own”.
But I didn’t have to oppress others to get it.
I’m more than a net worth,
And fourth quarter digits.
I defy odds,
And keep ceasing to amaze critics.
Released
By Desmen Best
I imagine me waiting for the other me,
At the end of my bid,
Soon as I exit.
Like,
Look what you’ve accomplished,
You did it, Desmen.
You finally got the message.
Now it’s time to make them feel our presence.
Who rode with you all them years?
Behind the scenes,
On all them tiers.
Even when you were down to your last ramen soup.
Before the hats and nice suits.
The ice and fast coupes.
Who sent you packages and loot?
Before the music and books,
So don’t start acting cute.
Bad and Boujee,
Don’t forget.
I was down before our youth.
Before you picked up a den,
In the bing and that box.
So before your first blunt and some box.
Don’t forget how real loyalty looks.
Looks aren’t important,
But play a major role no actress could perform.
I’m the money you put away for a rainy day,
The quiet before the storm.
Who would of ever thought,
This kid from the block,
Would outperform.
And keep ceasing to amaze.
Maze runner,
Ran through the cage.
Now I’m permanently embedded on this page.
Who better then,
To spend the rest of your life with.
Holy matrimony,
White dress and French tips.
Wife name,
“Jala”.
Painting
By Desmen Best
I paint like no other.
I do it for the parents of the parents of my grandmother.
So this cause for surviving,
Meant I had to pass all my other sisters and brothers.
Pops and moms,
Did or didn’t know,
They were creating.
Someone special,
History in the making.
I wonder how cold it was,
That early morning she was having me
When her heart was racing.
Like a Nascar driver,
Nine months after love making.
I think I just love thinking.
Or maybe I think too much,
Let it sink in.
What do you think of this painting?
2 Views, 1 Outcome
By Desmen Best
One person dies,
In less than 25 minutes
While the other,
Does 25 years-to-life in prison
2 people
2 families suffer,
Over a split-second decision.
Jail keeps him healthy and alive
To die slow,
That’s the mission.
Some call it torture,
Others call it justice.
Ye late night writing this,
While most sleeping,
I’m creating something with
Substance.
They happy,
Knowing he’s not free to hurt
Another.
But he gotta bang to survive.
He just cut a brother.
Family and friends perishing
Those that didn’t looking for
Reasons to leave.
Got his GED,
Then a few college degrees.
Once a liability,
Now an asset I believe.
Once young, ruthless and reckless,
But now we’re just OGs
Coming up for parole,
They show up,
Rather see him hang.
Baby, mother been left,
So kids will never know daddy
Changed.
He damn near got 30 years in,
Incarcerated,
But ain’t it strange.
He’s judged by what he did
Almost 4 decades prior.
The judge who sentenced him dead,
And the district attorney retired.
The victims’ kids will be decreased
And the grand kids will have babies,
Before he exits the fires.
They’re paying taxes,
To keep the person who killed
Granda alive,
And in top shape,
A man they don’t even know,
They taught to inherit hate.
Wait,
Do they know about sympathy and
Empathy,
Who don’t think he feels remorse?
Correctional officers made that he’s
Getting to take a free college
Course.
Freedom is priceless,
So to become educated come at
A cost
Not even a threat anymore,
He’s an old man.
Little did he know,
It was the victim’s grandchild
He was talking to during that
Scared straight program.
Missing them,
But he wonders,
Are they really missing me.
He making about 17-to-25 cent
An hour,
But gotta pay a 25k victims
Fee.
They don’t care what he’s
Accomplished.
They just wanna see him executed.
Minutes Before Six,
When he’s sitting there feeling
Useless.
He’s gonna smile,
While electricity.
Flowing threw his BODY
The last man in the room
Frowning at his expression,
He’s an inside joke between
Him and me
He’ll die knowing he’ll live forever
Throw my poetry.
Every political prison that passed
While incarcerated,
Resurrected through BEST.
Assets vs. Liabilities
By Desmen Best
I was ambivalent,
And they vanquished me in battle.
Incarceration,
Being herded like cattle.
But I won the war,
Due to an unassailable irrefutable
Buoyant mindset,
Attitude, and outlook on life.
During any strife I’m keen,
Mental sharp as a knife.
Prison was the furnace,
And my mind was forged in the fire.
Head hard as metal,
So I aimed higher.
Most of my peers consumed
With impressing each other,
My goal is to inspire.
They’re materialistic,
And I’m gifted.
They love fashion,
And I got skills that’s simplistic.
Put lines, and foreign material together,
Became a stylist,
Whose taste is exquisite.
Plus I’m an immaculate designer,
Whose ambitions are intrinsic.
Every article’s unique,
I hand stitched it.
Most not cut from this leadership clothe.
It won’t suit a majority,
Not even a taller can fit.
No matter how much measuring,
And them enunciating they’re a boss.
These fabric’s not for everyone,
Most only like denim and kicks.
Hard-bottoms, cuff-links, and ties,
Not their cup of tea.
This for the pin-stripe
Entrepreneur-minded lovers.
Stacy Adams wearers,
And connoisseurs of Brooks-Brothers.
All they know is robberies,
And how to book one-another.
They know everything about weapons, bricks.
But can’t tell me nothing about futures,
Options, mutual-funds, CDs, or
Giving investment tips.
They know all about Audis, Bugattis, Lams, and other exotic rides.
But they don’t got no drive.
They rent,
They don’t own.
They’re apartment dwellers,
Our aim’s estates, and purchasing homes.
From the hood,
But live life they affluent.
Opulent,
But they never left the block.
We aiming to own speed boats and yachts.
All they know is following the norms.
They don’t know about
Schedule-SE, DC, B&E,
1099 and 6198 forms.
But behind consumers are good employees,
And great CEOs.
All they’re concerned with is being in public flossing,
What they know about IPOs.
Initial Public Offering,
Let’s buy in.
This what separate infant from boys,
And adolescence from men.
I’m writing a book called
Urban Reality for Dummies.
About low, limited, moderate, and high-risk investing,
And words are money.
Wonder-Woman
By Desmen Best
I like soft pretty feet,
And soft hands,
That’s truths.
The way she gently caress me,
Like a masseuse.
Soothing in a way words can’t describe,
Eliminating all chinks.
When she done,
Return the favor,
And afterwards have drinks.
After a long exhausting day,
It’s nothing better.
There’s nothing more pleasing,
Than being together.
Cuddled up on the couch,
Enjoying a movie.
Viewing,
Something she prefer,
Not something I would indulge in usually.
But I see the “promise” in “compromise”,
This the new-me.
This is what’s required,
When you truly.
Adore, appreciate, honor, and respect,
Your significant other.
I see a life-partner,
A wife,
Not just some baby-mother.
Brother,
When you find what I’m describing,
Swallow your pride and curb your ego.
Be concerned about her opinions,
And not those of outside people.
We know,
Friends and family will have their personal opinions.
And even though you respect the value of your minions.
Unless they present convincing physical evidence.
You’ll deal with dichotomy,
If it comes to that.
But here’s the facts.
“Out of chaos” she created our “world”,
Like an “abyss”.
And I may be pragmatic,
But she’s my gift.
What a twist,
It started with a glance,
And ended with a kiss.
Miss,
If I had one last wish.
It would be for infinite wishes.
We’d live happily ever after,
And you’d be the only present
I unwrapped every Christmas.
We’d celebrate Valentine’s every day,
Because nobody got a connection like ours.
I call you “Gal Gadol”,
Because you’re my Wonder Woman,
And love is your super powers.
Art Exhibit
By Desmen Best
It all start with a pen,
That’s my brush,
Welcome to this fine arts exhibit.
This art gallery full of complex images,
I hope you see the depth in them and get it.
I wasn’t acquitted,
Spent 23 years in a dungeon.
Missing out on the fun when.
He learned to walk, talk, graduate
Middle and high-school,
Made touch-downs seeing my son win.
Some grin,
When I mention those facts.
And I shun them.
They’re the reason our numbers are plunging.
What do upper and middle class
Silver spooners know about struggle,
They still sponging.
Off their parents trusts and wills,
Money they themselves wasn’t earning.
They don’t have to starve,
And worry about funding.
Being miseducated,
And working twice as hard re-learning.
Turning over a new-leaf,
While staying on your toes.
Praying your peers don’t kill you,
Before you accomplish your goals.
Despite adversaries and oppositions,
We survived without trading our souls.
Obliterate all doubts,
Self-made no accomplices.
It’s like being ominous,
Avoiding it,
And celebrating accomplishments.
Despite trepidations of failure,
And family absences.
Learning to forgive,
And forget,
While integrating ingenuity into my consciousness.
Making room mentally for positive thoughts,
Who cares about others’ “opportment”.
Whether they “agree” or not
Don’t matter,
As long as I show competence.
Leaving a legacy is of the utmost importance.
I reverberate every now and then,
So I know why and where I’m heading.
The treachery was fuel,
And now my drive’s tacit.
I’m passed it,
Buried my pain painting,
That’s my tactic.
I believe,
It’s more than reprieved,
I mastered.
Escaping through poetry,
And living forever,
Grasp it.
I vehemently take pride in
Seeing the big picture,
Placing it in your frame of mind,
This photographer captured.
It all with a pen,
That’s my camera,
Welcome to this fine arts exhibit.
This art gallery full of complex images,
I hope you see the depth in them,
And get it.
Unexpected Romance
By Desmen Best
Hearing and listening,
Are two completely different things.
Understanding and comprehending,
Are the aims.
I listen and hear,
And know what you mean.
Present princess cuts to my queen.
It can only be one,
To satisfy this king.
Knew you didn’t mean “own”,
When you said: “Put a ring on it.”
My every word,
You hang on it.
Show you love,
Until you feel completely venerated.
Communication’s marijuana,
And your mind has to be stimulated.
I refuse to be a male-chauvinist,
Instead.
I’ma show you that chivalry isn’t dead.
It’s up to me to show you,
All men aren’t dogs,
And knuckle-heads.
When you said: I’m “aloof”.
“Distant physically and emotionally”,
You wasn’t exaggerating,
That’s the truth.
It’s four meaning,
But one word,
To describe the friend you’ve been.
Authentic, real, sincere, frank,
Genuine.
Then again,
That’s an understatement.
I have to be blunt, and blatant.
You’re “a wonderful thing”,
A “miracle”.
I guess you can say our
Connection is spiritual.
Asked God to bring me
Somebody special,
And here comes you.
A woman of your caliber is scarce.
Somehow Cupid’s arrow got through
All the walls I put up,
And pierced.
My heart,
I only had to give it time.
Now you “make my smile better”,
Like “invisaline”.
You complete me,
And complement me mentally.
I’ve been searching for it,
And in you I found serenity.
Risky Business
By Desmen Best
Do the math,
Business is hustling,
Break it down like fractions.
You got to turn your thoughts
Into actions.
I represent a brand,
H.I.P-H.O.P. has nothing to do with me rapping.
It’s about knowing the market,
And the stars I’m attracting.
Putting in work behind the scenes,
Letting these other fools do the acting.
I’m doing the scores,
The editing and mastering.
The CEO’s the director,
The producer’s the label owner,
Words are artists,
Aiming for platinum.
It’s like a fiend’s morning hit,
Without it they scratching.
LLCs, investing, trust,
Paying tax-and.
Philanthropy and humanitarian work,
No time for relaxing.
Started off from the bottom,
Wearing all the hats-and.
Big machines pouring millions into advertising,
To keep small businesses from growing.
Beating them 3-4 year predictions,
About new businesses,
While on parole-and.
Hoping I qualify for these grants.
Attending work-shops,
Business cards stuffed in my suit-pants.
Searching for the right accountant,
Lawyer and mentor.
Building my credit,
Opening my first personal and business accounts,
And more.
Waiting on the day I can
Purchase my first house,
Sitting down with a realtor.
I’m just getting started in
This risky business,
I’m not finished.
Buy it dirt cheap,
Fix it up,
Rent it out,
Now I got tenants.
I know it’s gonna take me a minute.
But I’ll employ guys coming home.
From prison to being supers,
And kill three birds with one stone.
They’ll live rent free,
People will have low income housing,
And I’ll make a profit.
First I got to make enough
To invest in the project.
The object of this poem,
Is to show that anything is possible.
It’s only one thing stopping you.
You,
And that’s just logical.
Nothing worth having comes easy,
If it does,
I missed it.
We got nothing to lose in
This risky business.
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