Musing & Muted Monologues...

Trying to Make Sense of It All...

Friday, January 28, 2005

Ha Ha Hey…

How ya doin’. Abstract De La Soul reference. What’s up folks. Yeah I know, "You ain’t shit Lee.". I have been a bit negligent when it comes to this journal. I’ll explain my position:
While I know longer consider myself in the grip of writer’s block, I still haven’t been writing poetry on a “regular” basis, so I really don’t feel like writing as much as I normally would. Also, I have a lot going on because I’m trying to organize what the hell I want to accomplish this calendar year, which is a lot, believe me. On top of that, I do sometimes honestly forget because I’m not in the habit I used to be in of writing in this bad boy anymore. Part of that is because I’m going to be completely revamping Lee the Poet.com, as I did illpoets.com; so, while this site is in limbo (sorta), I probably won’t write in the journal as much. But, once it has that brand new car smell again, I’ll probably find my old ways of writing about absolutely nothing in my classicly humorous way.
The site is scheduled to be done by early March, although, it could be done sooner depending upon when I start. Also, the site is much smaller than illpoets.com, so it’ll be easier to retool and revamp. So, for the next month, the links to poetry and other stuff on this site may or may not work. However, I’ll do something I don’t normally do…I’ll share some of the poems that never got read @ ciphers because most of the times they were incomplete, or they started well but drifted on a tangent, or I just didn’t feel them. Feel free to let me know what you think. The first "un-done" poem is—

I: the Seventh Sign

Many individuals claim the number seven, as do I
However my claim is not due to abstract mathematic reference or likening myself to the Second Coming of Christ
So please
Allow me to clarify
I was conceived on the 2nd of December
7 weeks into my mothers belly the doctors tell her she may not have me
Ruptured cyst on her ovaries made the odds of me making it 30%
70% chance I wouldn’t be here before you
I implore you to stay tuned
Eradicating the Roman calendar by eliminating the months of Julius and Augustus
The month after June I bloomed
And fell well within the cusp of the seventh month,
Lying underneath the seventh sign
I’m a Virgo
So although in your mind it takes nine
I traveled to this level of existence in seven months time
Born on the seventh day (Saturday), the tenth of SEPT-tember ‘77
Raised from the womb at 8:06
Eight plus four equating to fourteen which is a multiple of seven
Still some people think I’m being irreverent with this number 7
And even though I’m no numerologist
If one were to add 9- 10- 1977
9 + 1 +1 would equal 11 + 9 + 7 & 7= 34
3 + 4=7
Coincidence?
Maybe it is and maybe it’s not.
Perhaps the master provided this key for me to undo this lock
Cause even master locks can have forgotten combinations if you lose your concentration
“Master’s locks will be picked by no man
Indeed you will be freed if you have these keys
Willingness to succeed and faith in me is all you need
I died for you child it’s for you I bleed
You reap my sacrifice every time you breathe”
7 years
7 months
7 days
7 hours
7 minutes
7 seconds
7 ways for me to journey
To finish where I started and start where I finished
It chose me as much as I chose it
Divine wisdom
Before I even began to understand how little I understood God
I chose this number never wondering why it never even felt odd

I am the cosmic season of sleep
Knowing all summers must fall
Too young am I for hieroglyphics to draw on pyramid walls
So I scribe my wisdom inside bathroom stalls


Yeah..so, for those who truly know me, I really feel strongly about the number seven. However, a lot of cats on the scene seemed to be latching onto that number. As a response, I started writing this joint which I really dig on some levels, but feel it went on tangents at points. I started to have a block as I was writing it, as you see by the break and then the last four lines which didn’t quite fit. I was going to write until I found a way to make them fit together (which happens sometimes when I create poems on a computer), but I didn’t want to force any words that weren’t ready to be penned yet—so I took a break from this particular piece. I never finished it because a fellow poet by the name of King Cipher developed a clothing line called The Seventh Sign clothing, which killed the concept for me. Didn’t want anybody to think I was riding somebody elses coat tails on that subject, so I let the poem “die" so to speak, although I still had it copy written.
Anyway, I’ll holla.

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