I want to talk to you if it was at all possible. You interest me because you were once a towering figure, and a profound artist. You made it to be a young man. I remember you were so live, alive, and opinionated. I'm writing you because I feel like I am in this prison. And this I tell you not to be trivial - my aim is not to trivialize the plights of those incarcerated. I am a prisoner but I'm not a criminal. I'm a prisoner to capital, to Capitalism. I live for others to pay their bills and make their payroll. Sometimes I buy things to break me away from living for work. I have a beautiful family and I love them. The weekends make me forget about work. I feel free. I am conflicted, Mr. Shakur. I feel that I'm free and yet who am I making rich today. Mr. Shakur, I’m a prisoner but I'm not behind bars. I'm a prisoner because I am invisible.
Let me see, how can I speak about my invisibility? I’ve worked and worked until midnight comes and I feel those eyes peering at me with blame as if I've never lifted a finger. Mr. Shakur, I imagine that these people are judging me. I have embraced being behind the scenes. I'm afraid that I will go without saying all the things I've been meaning to say. I might perish behind the scenes before someone picks up my writing and says “This person had a lot to say”. I’m afraid of this ending, Mr. Shakur. I’m afraid of falling by the wayside because I never found out how I can be visible. I’ll keep on working on this. I’m afraid of the spotlight. I actually like being invisible. I like to be an afterthought: someone that you think about later on in the day. Today, I’m getting some mild notice professionally, Mr. Shakur. Believe me sir, I see what you mean when you said: “It’s me against the world!”
I want to cause people to wake up and examine everything they have been doing for years on end. That sir, is my revenge, as an invisible man. I will talk and talk behind the scenes until there is a response even a movement, and people will give credit to all of the invisible people out there. This is what I desire! I want to touch a person’s life through poetry like you did Mr. Shakur. I want to be unseen, sir. I imagine you had your quiet places away from the confusion where you wrote your poems. I miss how you would make the press stop with everything you said. I miss how people tried to piece you together because of the fact that you, like me and everyone else, is rife with contradictions. Mr. Shakur, this is the part of life that we are all connected to. I'm writing this to speak to someone about myself. I'm writing this because I'm desperate to speak about my invisibility again and again. What will come of my visibility? In essence, to be visible is to have all eyes on you. What did it feel like to be visible?
I wish that I could see all of the wonders that you have seen in Heaven. Is it as magnificent as can be imagined? Are people finally loving each other? Are places as beautiful as I imagine they would be? Is there everything you left on Earth? Are the people there waiting for you? Were people waiting for you there? Are we still fucked up people? Even in heaven? How are you doing? Do you struggle with the fact that many of your loved ones are still on Earth fighting every single day? Did you ever resolve what it is that set you off? Was the beef with Biggie overblown? Do you know anything about why you had to die so young? Do you even know who killed you? Did that person too join you in the afterlife?
I wonder how souls get judged Mr. Shakur. Is there a trial and God opens up the book that is your life and singles out certain chapters? Does God understand what it means to be human and have all the frailties associated with being human? Does God listen to you when you speak? Will he listen to me when I speak? Does God just remain silent? Does God remain silent so that we can understand things for ourselves? Is God present in Heaven? Is the Sun, God, Mr. Shakur? Does God make announcements that she or he is living and breathing? Mr. Shakur, have you figured out what life is all about? Did you find out what your life was all about? Was it worthwhile to live Mr. Shakur? I see that heaven can be paved in sand or in gold or in any element found on Earth. Heaven, to me, is not paved with gold: it is paved with the roads to recovery and I’m sure today you have finally found out where you came from. From dust to dust will we ever find ourselves back in Africa, Mr. Shakur?
Let me see, how can I speak about my invisibility? I’ve worked and worked until midnight comes and I feel those eyes peering at me with blame as if I've never lifted a finger. Mr. Shakur, I imagine that these people are judging me. I have embraced being behind the scenes. I'm afraid that I will go without saying all the things I've been meaning to say. I might perish behind the scenes before someone picks up my writing and says “This person had a lot to say”. I’m afraid of this ending, Mr. Shakur. I’m afraid of falling by the wayside because I never found out how I can be visible. I’ll keep on working on this. I’m afraid of the spotlight. I actually like being invisible. I like to be an afterthought: someone that you think about later on in the day. Today, I’m getting some mild notice professionally, Mr. Shakur. Believe me sir, I see what you mean when you said: “It’s me against the world!”
I want to cause people to wake up and examine everything they have been doing for years on end. That sir, is my revenge, as an invisible man. I will talk and talk behind the scenes until there is a response even a movement, and people will give credit to all of the invisible people out there. This is what I desire! I want to touch a person’s life through poetry like you did Mr. Shakur. I want to be unseen, sir. I imagine you had your quiet places away from the confusion where you wrote your poems. I miss how you would make the press stop with everything you said. I miss how people tried to piece you together because of the fact that you, like me and everyone else, is rife with contradictions. Mr. Shakur, this is the part of life that we are all connected to. I'm writing this to speak to someone about myself. I'm writing this because I'm desperate to speak about my invisibility again and again. What will come of my visibility? In essence, to be visible is to have all eyes on you. What did it feel like to be visible?
I wish that I could see all of the wonders that you have seen in Heaven. Is it as magnificent as can be imagined? Are people finally loving each other? Are places as beautiful as I imagine they would be? Is there everything you left on Earth? Are the people there waiting for you? Were people waiting for you there? Are we still fucked up people? Even in heaven? How are you doing? Do you struggle with the fact that many of your loved ones are still on Earth fighting every single day? Did you ever resolve what it is that set you off? Was the beef with Biggie overblown? Do you know anything about why you had to die so young? Do you even know who killed you? Did that person too join you in the afterlife?
I wonder how souls get judged Mr. Shakur. Is there a trial and God opens up the book that is your life and singles out certain chapters? Does God understand what it means to be human and have all the frailties associated with being human? Does God listen to you when you speak? Will he listen to me when I speak? Does God just remain silent? Does God remain silent so that we can understand things for ourselves? Is God present in Heaven? Is the Sun, God, Mr. Shakur? Does God make announcements that she or he is living and breathing? Mr. Shakur, have you figured out what life is all about? Did you find out what your life was all about? Was it worthwhile to live Mr. Shakur? I see that heaven can be paved in sand or in gold or in any element found on Earth. Heaven, to me, is not paved with gold: it is paved with the roads to recovery and I’m sure today you have finally found out where you came from. From dust to dust will we ever find ourselves back in Africa, Mr. Shakur?
RSS Feed