Story Time

So I know this one seems long
But it's a small story
I love metaphorical stories, 
Because they actually have meaning

Sometimes people ask me...
What do you think about when you write
And I answer: Nothing 
Sometimes... 
Nothingness is beautiful.

There was this little kid that lived inside my head
She had no one she would talk to, until I met her in my bed
Her hair was white, her skin was pure vanilla colored eyes
Every time she’d speak to me her mouth would leak out sweet red wine

She used to tell me stories, myths during hours that Id dream
I found it strange how all her words would turn reality
The rhythm in each letter feathered tempered melodies
I soon began to crave our visits in our sleep

But sometimes she would cry blue tears that quickly crystalized
Sometimes she would yell so loud there flamed fire out her eyes
This little girl would beg my presence, and I would search for hers
And every time that’d Id awake the whole night was a blur

But when the seconds that she drew… would solidify
In between the prophecies I would realize
She held the future childishly in between her eyes
And I was able to foresee when I ventured in my mind

Every night… my ticking time, I became so obsessed
Every time I saw the girl I’d force her to confess
Who in life… would love me more, who would love me best
She tried to play those silly games, but I would grab her head.
And tell her, angry, sternly, loudly, asking for requests
Was my future made of golden roads, or a broken ugly mess?

When answers didn’t come to light I would turn so violent
And every time I saw this girl her eyes were very violet
My dreams began to turn maroon, the skies no longer blue
She ran away so far away, whenever I’d come thru

One day when I fell asleep, she waited at a shadowed pond
I asked her if she’d like to talk , she said “something’s very wrong”
Impatiently I asked her what. She waited no response
And when the seconds ticked way too loud I noticed she was gone

But her sweet soft voice it lingered in the cold and misty air
I walked into the shadowed pond to see if she was there
My feet they soaked, my pores the begged, this pond was way too cold
In the silence of that winters dream, I felt my very soul
Begin to have my body dragged inside the little pond
That now was bright and lighted white, her voice became a song
Muttering just muttering

“now you’ll never see
the future that you craved so much, for falling for a dream.”


So who am I

I don't like explaining.. I just like to do
BUT
      To refrain from confusion or TOO much randomness 
This post is to give a little info about who I am
.....And what I do....




I AM SAFIEL
a poet
a writer
a rapper
a motivational being
an angel


I was born with a pen in my hand. 
At a young age I was convinced i was an angel.
No, I'm not crazy (maybe?)
All I know is I love writing
I love writing so much
I began performing my writing
I make love to my writing onstage

and then I started rapping
because I'm a shy kid
and rapping is aggressive
and now my performances are aggressive

What do I perform about?
YOU. 
ME. 
US.
MY LOVE.
MOTIVATION.

Safiel has a story. I just haven't told it yet. 
I'll get to it very soon.


Don't care? 

Read my writing... 
I can play double dutch with your pupils 
Build landmarks on your mind
Make you scratch letters off your scalp 

Can you picture it?

Yeah. Writing is powerful.







Lonely loves loner lovers

I heard somewhere that the artist path is a very lonely path
.... I'm not sure what to think about that
But when you are married to your craft
It becomes so difficult to accept someONE else as a lover
     
I don’t want to fall in love with humans
No, I’m deeply in a phase
That even moments I’m deprived of have fallen on my page
See I can’t trust our veins, because they intertwine so savagely
And if I give my message up you might make use of it wrongfully
You see, I see the dark thoughts that I got, and I’m not…
Ready to witness the intentions of business, cause I live in the strokes between my pen
Connecting reality with letters, and climbing up paragraphs toppled by the aftermath of tongues who spoke so bravely as if their spit were given a holy bath
I’m trynna grab every thought I ever had
And strangle out my baddest bad
And speak to me to get the facts I hid in dreams I never had
I cant even trust myself, but it don’t mean I’ll infect myself…
With negativity, cause positivity is spinning me 
creating what I’m supposed to be

Think...hink...ink...nk..k

I think we all have contradicting thoughts. 
Oneday you wake up and you feel on top of the world
The next you don't even want to wake up
Consistency 
Think consistently about
who you will become


Am I slowly deteriorating?
Or are my muscles becoming accustomed to the lack of relaxation
The stress… the thoughts of what’s next
Inside I feel dead
But outside I’m so blessed
Loaning my attention to every other star
Instead of enjoying my gift
Is it human nature to watch competition?
As if everything were a mission
Am I a mission I’m trying to conquer
With these gifts I’m trynna offer
All my efforts seem improper
And I’m bathing in words, words mixed with water
Is it safe to say I’m afraid of those who are better then me
My letters are weak
And my pen spits ink but secretly wants more beauty sleep
Maybe I have to inject my heart with ink
Or think rationally in order to link my passion with my dreams
I used to hate to sleep
Because the sheep were boring
And the pastor was lazy
And they’d all sing and jump for the moon but never obtained it
Maybe that’s my problem
My satisfaction doesn’t exist
If I am invincible, then I don’t have to resist
I’m walking in a gallery, full of my artwork
Trying to find ways to get the world in here

He Said

I've left my past behind...
But theres those times you run into old pieces
and you can't help to remember

what he said:

He said He didn’t love me anymore. My presence died, he finally found another shadow for… his lonely time. It wasn’t fine to me. I cried non-stop. How could you leave me with these tears and with the pain you brought. My lonely time was spent sobbing, while he purchased better blood. Trying too hard to find a way to explain a better love, in the front of his car, stuttering in a voice of sudden guilt. All the calls he never answered, they were better moments filled, with a strangers talk. You’ve always been naïve, but I never thought that you would find it in your heart to walk… away twice. He thought money was the bond that held us together. Didn’t see importance in a kiss, or any love letters. 
I can’t respect you. 
Cause’ I wasn’t the one who left you. But you made it just too easy to turn around and forget you. Don’t want to say I regret you, but to tell the truth you turned into wasted memories, I scratched off to create a better me. You infected me, with all your nasty habits. Now I desperately seek someone to blame, whenever I feel saddened. It’s not as bad and, the hole in this chest is cemented shut. I don’t expect another father, or manly love. 
Cause’ there’s a time for everything and you destroyed the piece we had. And to be completely honest with you, I ain’t even mad.
Now I see you choking dad
Now your just a joke... it's sad