Sunday, December 7, 2008

Poetry - Cracked

I took my previous poem Addiction, and went deeper, or at least tried to. I wanted to show the confusion, how someone looses themselves in their addiction. Where the drug becomes them.


Look through the eyes of a crack head, the world of a dope fiend
In my life I just backped, the world is a smokescreen
I live for the fog, I can’t stand the haze
I live in the drug, I can’t stand the days

Nights in the light, but my eyes unshaded
In the fight for my life, but it is so jaded,
Jagged, as the rocks laced with hatred

I don’t know if I’m in control or being controlled
Or maybe just a controller plugged into the console
This miracle material makes me immaterial
I don’t know if it’s my component or a peripheral

The machie mineral, man made, but man look what its made me
In no rush to exit the damn maze, Do you think that I’m crazy?
Or do you think that I’m lazy?
I work hard to work hard, Look at all that it gave me….

Look at what all I gave it
The traitor and the one’s that traded
Sold my self to the syringe slave ship
I ain’t got no willing, because my stones are enslavement
I ain’t got no ceiling, because my home is the pavement

That’s why I get as high as I can, because I already exist in my grave pit…

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Poetry - The Usual Story

It is basically the usual story of a boy in the ghetto, it started off as me telling me life story but as I wrote it, it came that so many rappers, friends, entertainers had shared this story. it was written 2 years ago

The Usual Story by The Ryan Phipps

Sad he’s oh so, because Daddy don’t want the

Son of A Bitch, who’s batty and country

It was all set in motion, once the stone started rolling

And the tears started falling

Ain’t no consoling, a bastard bawling

Cept for rappers scrawling songs

That hit home for this young

Neglected nigga…His history a mystery

Those dudes talk to his heart, misery visibly

Displayed, rewound and replayed

It seems it’s delayed

His chance to be saved…

Nope he knows no father

He thinks he might falter

So why bother to gather alters

Nope he knows no Father.

He’d rather author, the second coming of the carter

Newest Jack of the city – take it all hostage

To hold weight like the O-line of a Big-12 College

His hopes demolished, dreams resurrected out of tar

He is the streets…perfected for the war

Moms has no cure and the ails won’t fail

But he his damn sure the cells won’t bail

The wells won’t fill, it’s bottomless

The problems just, swell won’t tail and to the gen. populace

It’s not common sense, but to him, the target audience, he's cognizant

In his competence, school is overshadowed

In the war on drugs, he’s wining so many battles

An unloader of the metal

Too hopefully become holder of the medal

But truly he’s just another solider in the saddle

When it’s over and it’s settled

But it’s never older and it it’s never settled

This is the weight of the burden form the boulder of the ghetto

Saturday, September 13, 2008

Poetry - Happiness...

Happiness… by The Ryan Phipps

Happiness…it evades me, it escapes me

Oddly enough I’m not racing in my chasing

I’m pacing. I’m not waiting.

Just feel no need for breaking

Just don’t have anything to make me

Happiness…it slows down, it spins around

Runs backwards, me it’s facing

Yet still I see no need for my speed to be increasing

It’s not leaving…it was never here

I don’t miss it because it was never near

If I wrote a letter, it’d never Dear.

It’s To Whom because I don’t know who

Since the womb this has been true

And till my tomb it’s what do

Because it does and its doing

Far from tardy, smiles are so truant

And to get to them, the miles are so affluent

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Introspective - Graduation

I will be graduating college in ten months. In five weeks, I will commence my Sr. year at Baylor University. I Am Nervous.


In August of 2004, I was not excited or worried about Sr. year. It was just another year of school for me. College was a natural step, just as HS was, so there was no anxiousness to complete it. I don’t even remember graduating HS. That day was fast and uneventful. Me walking was just for my relatives. I apathetically crossed the stage and received the fake diploma, with my mind focused on who would I be kicking it with that night. HS was a joke. I had already had my head focused on college. Even that first day of college was weak. It was just another day of high school, just a different set up.


This fear of the future began, my sophomore year. My girlfriend at the time was battling her looming graduation, and I began vicariously experiencing her trials. It made me question my decisions, career path, and ultimate future. Luckily Alpha Kappa Psi and Omega Psi Phi kept me busy for that year, if you can call that luck.


I am not ready, not because I am not mature, might fail, but because I will have to divide my self. I am a man of many talents, as the title of my blog suggest, “Jack of All Trades…Master of None”. I can be so successful in any arena, but will I be great, yet will I be happy. Success is subjective, and I measure it by how much am I empowering others as well as empowering my self.


I have 4 options.


Pursue a Masters in English to perfect my poetry skills.

Pursue a Juris Doctorate to expand my abilities to tackle political and social injustice.

Move to Atlanta and start my career in the Music Industry.

Work at some corporation in a $55,000 cubicle job.


I will be graduating college in ten months. In five weeks, I will commence my Sr. year at Baylor University. I Am Nervous. 

Friday, July 4, 2008

Thoughts - Presentation

I am rough, raw, unpolished, unapologetic, rash, brash, misunderstood, unrefined, aggressive, and blunt. These adjectives can be seen through all aspects of my life, though they don't even begin to describe who I truly am. Being these ways, I am not a very normal, easily likeable, or tolerable person. I have a hate me or love me quality, there is no fence. Also, details bore me and mostly piss me off. I am a concept, or big idea man. I focus in on my destination, not my path. I have great intentions, just not great actions. I get shit done, not in the best of ways, but my own and I am happy, but not the world. I hate presentation and the whole concept, of being presentable. I consider things that are presentable, bullshit, mostly intended to please certain social/traditional norms and mindsets which I feel have set the world back hundreds of years. I intentionally and unintentionally disregard them.

I went to the Lift Lounge tonight, an upscale club in downtown that was definitely popping. At first glance I felt outta place. Every dude had on "sexy shirts" and shit. You know the kind that are too tight to breathe in or that have a V-neck so deep that the dude has man cleavage. One dude even had the nerve to have Under Armor on. Basically not my, polo style shirt, or express button up crowd. And the WOMEN WERE ON POINT. Even the ugly chicks were fly. I was like damn this is the place for me. No one was even dancing, just drinking and conversing. I came in a silk soft pank button up, jeans and black Steve Maddens, which hurt my feet, but I still felt like these Blacks were too refined for me. I might look like I'm about something in this button up, but I'm still a trifling dude from Mesquite. But these girls didn't know that, nor did that assume that. They assumed that I was out of school, or working some high level job. I even saw a girl I tried to get at a while back, in there. When I first came at her, I was Tall-T'd out with forces and fresh white T. She called me ghetto. But when I saw her in there, she was all friendly and shit, didn't even remember me from earlier. She asked if I was from Plano or Houston, of all places. It was funny too me. Later on through the night, as the drinks kept coming and the music got more and more gutter, the Blacks got more and more gutter. Those same "high class" girls were shaking there ass like the "ghetto" girls at Cirque or Che. That's when I understood what I did wrong. I judge the package, before I new what was inside.

Those same six color weave girls, and 28' caprice having niggas, were here too, just dressed differently. I confused style and substance, which many do all the time. I have a lot of substance, just no style that is palatable to many. It’s my own, bear bones, blunt way of handling things. No tact. I feel people tend to dress up the truth, to make it cosmetically alluring, when in the end, it’s still the same. Like a say a man is a man, even in a dress.

So much in life we spend time making things presentable that, we make something totally different. We lose focus of what it is, in an attempt to redress what it is. Even more over, we try to alter how we may, speak, act, look, think, or even believe, not to feel better, but to make others feel better. We spend so much time pleasing others that we lose ourselves in the process. Growing as a person, and creating a different life are two different things. Instead of losing weight, some just buy bigger clothes to cover up the weight. Which doesn’t change the weight just covers it up. Instead of telling someone how we feel, we fake smile and whisper behind their back; all in a vain attempt to remain presentable.

News anchors wear make up, and get their hair and nails done, to deliver news. I don’t care if the muthafucka has one tooth. If there is a meteor coming at my house I need to know. Politicians re-word war to Operation, to make it more presentable to the public. People get dressed up just to have a photo shoot for their Profile Pic on facebook/myspace. Schools get closed, because the states don’t want the low test scores of the students, to lower their average. All in the name of presentation.

Next time really think what are you presenting and better yet what’s being presented to you. Reality or Reality TV. Even the hardest thugs wear a suit to court.

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Poetry - Niggology (The Study of Niggas)

I have being using this term Niggology( The biology of Niggas), for a while as a joke. i blame my Niggology for my ignate lol, yes ignate behavior lol. Its something, that happned in my Nigetics (Genetics), my DNA, has red kooliaid, mixed with the sugars, and my helix is coated in chicken grease. My proteins are steriod induced cuz of all that damn genetically enhacned chicken from Churches. lol dont listen to me, read the poem, and if u dont understand it REad a Book.

Niggology now is the Study of Niggas, and this is the summation of the entire field of study/career path/life lol. Enjoy


Look at Chronology to being the Sociology
You got to start at the past to understand the Biology
Look at me to see their Archaeology
I am what remains... in my Hematology
You can begin Palaeontology sooo-Just Listen!
You can't forgo Audiology
Go past Optometry, deep to Ophthalmology
There's more under the skin, Fuck Dermatology!
Really study my Cardiology and Neurology
Don't limit it to music, which seems to to be the Hip Hopcracy (Hypocrisy)
Look at Criminology, its all based on my Ethnology
We are the basis of Cytology
When they study our Psychology, why do they start at Zooology?
What we too low for Anthropology?
Why is my reality Mythology?
Look at our Ecology to understand our Biology.
Guns are the highest Technology
Cell phone and microwaves complete Radiology
And yall wonder why every second we give Lobotomies
Fuck Cosmetology I wanna Monopoly
Ignorant Ideologies validate my Toxology
Trap or Die! It's not an ultimatum its a Theology
That's why studying crack, is Ghetto Geology
But Even PhDs still fall to Crypt-ology
Its not Cryptology, its my life follow me...
I know its hard to swallow me, with ology Terminology
But I'm an Apologist, so no apologies
And I cite the streets as my sources, so I don't Need a Bibliography
And that concludes my summation on Niggology.

., lol alot of yall will need it.
Hema = blood
Cy = cell, i use it as a play, jail cells


Welcome to orientation! This is the first post, of many to come. This is the first step into the labryinth of my mind. Logic is confusion, man cannot reason, when emotions are unreasonable. By creation we are our greatest flaw, enemy, and we will cause our fall. So until that day, I'm here to program this V.C.R clock of a world, and set the record straight. Debullshittify the world, one mind at a time, one post at a time. I don't have the answers, but I will ask the questions.