Wednesday, November 26, 2014

The Fragrance of a Lifetime By Bo-Edward Lawrence


If I should wake before I die, 
I pray that my dreams were beautiful.
That my sheets smelled like lavender 
so when I breath I grasp the aroma.
Up is like down when your mind tries to spiral into a coffin, sometimes I get speechless and start coughing.
She held her life in her own hands as if it were beach sand, but just like beach sand it slipped between her finger tips... 
It slipped between MY fingertips.
Life is a breath of fresh air.
An aroma I can never seem to grasp.

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

A Frozen Angel by Bo-Edward Lawrence



A Frozen Angel 

        They had missed it. Nobody blamed them, but they shouldn't have missed it. I just don’t understand why the world has abandoned me. I sit in my room staring for hours at this clock that seems to tick a little slower than usual. My eyes feel enlarged but filled with sand as if I couldn’t bare the pain to miss a second. Every now and then my legs begin to shake and goose bumps cover my skin like a blanket that won’t let go. As I write this letter with my pencil at hand I continue to write and erase, make and destroy, create and delete, I just can’t seem to narrow my mind enough to make a point that will stick to this white paper. I am alone and confused with many thoughts that are rushing through my head like a freight train.

I stay curled up in a fettle position in this dark corner in my room because it’s the only place in this world I feel safe. My bed seems to move centimeters away with each passing day, soon it will become a foreign object to me. My parents have always noticed my slow spiraling depression but they agreed with the rest of them when I needed them most. Every time I see their judging faces I reminisce on the time I went crazy screaming 
“Hell with all of you, one day you will wish you truly loved me. I hate every last one of you, and you will burn with the rest of them.”
Those were good times in my ongoing rebellion. I feel like a slave to prejudice beliefs. I can only remember yesterday when I got up slowly and dragged my lifeless limbs attached to this body of mine into the bathroom. The mirror was slightly cracked at the top from the anger I have faced for several weeks. I faintly remember leaning over the sink grasping the sides and screaming at my reflection. I can’t seem to remember completely because the Hennessey lifted me into a domain where I had no enemies and everything was dead to me. No matter how much I brush my hair back, wash my face, and rub my eyes this perfect image of a world is still not clear to me.
I turn around and slowly glance at the wall outside my bathroom in search for that slow ticking clock. I see those hands getting close to that point in time; I don’t want to miss this. I stumble outside the bathroom almost as if I had two right feet because my left has left with the rest of my dignity. I press my back against the wall and slowly ease my way down because it is time. I reach in my pocket where I put this note that I thought I shall leave behind.

 As I slowly open the folded letter I can feel the hate that I scratched into these pages manifesting into something legible. It is now 10PM, which means it’s time. I take my jacket off and neatly fold it to the left of me. I roll up my Hollister long sleeves so that my pale flesh is exposed. I can barely see as my vision blurs in and out but I know this must be done. I take out my father’s box cutter and held it tightly in my right hand. Somehow all of my thoughts and memories began to rush through my head once more. These are images I haven’t thought of in years, but for some reason they chose now to rise into my current thoughts. I can’t waste anymore time so I need to start now. I began to cut deeply into my wrist slowly separating the skin cells that held my pale flesh together. Not even on a molecular level can anything stop the message that must be sent. I feel the blood from my wrist begin to rush out filling my hands in a warm euphoria of love. I slowly hear my mother walking up the stairs calling my name loud and obnoxiously. 
“Emily you need to get out of your room you’ve been in there all day” My mother says. 
“You should’ve loved me mom! I didn’t choose to be this way! I didn’t choose to love the same sex because this is who I am!” I yelled.
 My mother then snaps back. “You are a beautiful female who chose to do those blasphemous things. You are throwing your life away! How do you think everyone is going to look at you now that you are some lesbian freak? People aren’t going to hire you or love you I regret you myself!” 
And that is the reason why I hate you mom”
My mother began to hit the door even harder. “Open this door Emily or ill break it down your father will be here soon we are taking you to counseling and to church so you can remember the bright, young, straight lady that I raised”
I calmly responded in this dying voice of mine. “You and dad are the reason this world has so much pain. You are the sole reason for the senseless killings and racism that has plagued our earth for years. Because you cannot accept or understand other people, you try to diagnose them and exile them to be something that belongs in a negative category. Yes, I am lesbian but I am proud to be lesbian. Because as my blood slowly leaves my body I know that I will be dying as Gods beautiful creation.”


I can hear my mom after, so confused and desperately trying to get into the door more than before. She notices the blood creeping from under my door I can just hear her panicking. These are sounds of beauty for me, because of all that I’ve been through. I was just a 19 year old girl with nothing but success and love for painting on my mind. I know sometimes I might spill paint everywhere or maybe I might be a little clumsy and weird and I listen to opera and watch vintage Dracula movies but I’m sure someone would’ve loved me. My vision begins to dim and at this point I can barely comprehend my mother’s words hidden in her screams of distress. As my body begins to numb and I can no longer feel my finger tips that I use to paint those beautiful pictures with, I knew that it was over. They have all missed it, but I don’t blame them; because they are an offspring of cruel stereotypes. But they shouldn’t have missed it. Now I am laying here with my heart a couple beats away from still. The last thing I seen was my award winning painting of an Angel that I hung gracefully from my wall. But I cannot speak nor move, I am a frozen angel, a corpse of our world’s sins.

Monday, November 17, 2014

Marry Happiness, Not Complacency


God's Beauty By Bo-Edward Lawrence


God’s beauty 

I'm infatuated,
 By the little things I see in your eyes and in your smile.
Grace and magnificence peers out your skin like beautiful legions that know secretion,
With a smile that's so intriguing,
That traps me even when you are not speaking,
Your love is beautiful but your charisma is so misleading.
Baby you are the definition of beauty and elegance.
It must be hard for you to watch me as I lean in to kiss yah,
When you’re trying to be defined in the lines written in gods scriptures.
Your eyes wonder while your body begins to denature.
As you begin to drip,
Trees begin to build, I wish you can understand my animated picture.
A picture that moves smooth along the grooves of your fingertips.
Our relationship is unique the one that all your friends become jealous with.
The one that everyone searches for and tries to get into,
You’re the only one I'm talking to I just thought that you already knew.
And if we were to be compared to how the ocean flows in a different point of view.
While everyone else's is drying up I keep that ocean flowing healthy and royal blue.
What's love without trust?
What's Minnie without Mickey?
What Tigger without pooh
What Peter without Louis?
What's me without you?
Surprisingly I can't find the time to adore your beauty.
Or even withstand the pain that I would be suffocated in if you were to say you wish you never knew me. .
See your exterior is not your only sense of beauty,
You don't get distracted by the diamonds and rings all those things
You happen to be one of those Girls that bury their sins
 And truly cares about what kind of fabric my heart is being carried in.
With love like that,
You have me thinking about what kind of church we are going to get married in.
See but my heart is big so don't use
Chiffon because it can be kind of a cheap.
Use something like leather and hope it last forever
Because your my never ever,
My never ever want anything better,
Don't never ever give me a burger without the cheddar,
My never ever enter this weather without you as my sweater,
My never ever talk to that trick because I have you I don't need to have met her,
My never ever receive anything from you without you crossing your Ts and hearting your Is in this letter.
My never ever ever never
Ever never
The point is I want you forever

-          Bo-Edward Lawrence


Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Runaway By Bo-Edward Lawrence


They never accept you for you, they always want you to be equal.
I hate people, I HATE people !!!
they abuse me in every way that is legal.
I know you hate the way i look, talk, and act, but you compliment me to stay peaceful.
I know you want me to be more STRONG minded, so if I cap lead in my cerebral.
would that make me more accepted or make my thoughts more evil and lethal.
I tell her don't wait up, straight up!
these street lights get dim at night because a story is about to be told
these nights get cold.
everyone wants to be noticed in a world where no one appreciates a good soul.
Do you judge someone for only what they show?
I'm a diamond in a dark space surrounded by rhinestones.
Everyone claims and wants a "real" nigga? but a "real" nigga never can grasp the ropes 
and only knows real lies because when it comes to the truth they seem to get tongue tied. 
My life is a combination of combinations. . what is the code?
My mind is a deep conversations sparked from a conversation. . what is the dialect?
I apologize for my thoughts 
I'm just painting Mona Lisa with my soul using the world as my canvas.

-Bo-Edward Lawrence

Sunday, October 26, 2014

Why Life Hurts !


Life will break you.
Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won't either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning.
You have to love.
You have to feel.
It is the reason you are here on earth.
You are here to risk your heart.
You are here to be swallowed up.
And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness.
Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could.

-LE

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Euphoric Nights By Bo-Edward Lawrence



I just want to make love to you 
In the back seat swearing like an athlete
Seat back 
Listening to party next door
Sipping Henny please god no more no more 
don't let the tree hit the floor
These sins that can turn a good girl into whore
Sins that she'll later pay for

The Love Plant By Bo-Edward Lawrence

I break down my love,
Roll it up,
And watch as what once was romantic turns into ashes.
Inhale the memories while I exhale the pain.
You smile with laughter when the smoke hits your chest. 
Because you begin to realize the same emotions that made you fall in love are the same ones that break you. 
But the pain feels cold like a lustful bliss
That I missed, maybe even regret that I fell in love with winter! 
The most coldest season.
The smoke depicts memories that hold so much happiness for unspoken reasons.
Heartbreak never seems to ever break even. 
If it was meant to be than the door would never have been an option. . .
I used to think the worst thing in life was to end up all alone. 
It's not. 
The worst thing in life is to end up with people that make you feel all alone.
And now, The Winter is coming ! 
-Bo-Edward Lawrence

Quote of the Day! by Bo-Edward Lawrence

"Don't Ever Chase Love, because love likes long walks in the park" -Bo-Edward Lawrence


My Body Is Not Your Temple By Bo-Edward Lawrence


"Lips that conceive lies,
With a breath that reeks of regret.
Makes me realize why your teeth shows gaps of faith and crooked promises and hopes.
Your a mouthful of pessimism 
That makes me choke !
My chest and ribs become compressed because my stomach can't understand or process 
that you ain't shit but a thigh away from being alone, 
A leg away from depression, 
And a toe away from death"



Wednesday, October 1, 2014

My Suicide Note by Bo-Edward Lawrence


My Suicide Note

You know i never thought i would be alive long enough to write this poem.
Witnessing God in my dreams, talking to me
I didn't want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. 
As sad as that sounds.
It was almost like a reverse nightmare, 
usually when you wake up from a nightmare you're so relieved. 
I woke up into a nightmare.
I woke up to the sounds of my knuckles knocking on the devils gate. 
I am not his advocate..
God forgive me for my sins.
My angel wings have been burned off my aching skeleton 
The pain i feel is more traumatizing and genuine as if i was a war veteran
sleep is the cousin of death and suicide is its closest relative

This cold barrel to my dome, never made me afraid but for some reason i feel like I’m going home.
God, I’m coming home
They say every second, minute, and hour of the day you write your future, your story.
There were many times i wished i could tear out some of the pages, but instead i always feel like burning the entire book.
its all bad! 
The entire world is against me. 
Can someone. . 
Tell my mother that she is the kindest angel i have ever known
and my father, thank you for teaching me how to be a man.
Tell them I’m sorry that this life lesson doesn’t feel like a blessing but instead like a curse.
Tell the reporters that i was never into drugs or a criminal 
just make sure they don’t sell me to the world as a bad person.

I raise home to my head and put it next to my temple 
and i reflect . . . .

The easiest thing in life is to quit. The hardest thing in life is to live.
Just to know that all my pain, all my hurt can end with a pull of a trigger. . 
I want my death to be beautiful, i want my death to be meaningful. would it be considered beautiful if i scattered my brains on this windshield as my old thoughts create a Picasso.
I don’t want to be the man that nobody knows until he commits suicide, and then everyone had a class with him.
Sometimes home isn’t the answer, sometimes running away isn’t the right thing to do. 
I want to be known as the one who stared down the barrel of a gun and found enough beauty to look away. 
and live. . .


Sunday, January 5, 2014

Spoken Word at Gospel Choir event. Check it out

Check out my performance at University of Hartford. Really enjoyed this crowd and they loved me. SUBSCRIBE SUBSCRIBE SUBSCRIBE