Monthly Archives: January 2016

The Poetry of Tupac Shakur


Tupac Shakur

This will be the first of a series of posts of Tupac Shakur’s poetry. His words and music have had a profound affect on humanity and the struggle of the underclassmen of the United States and abroad.

Sometimes I Cry

Sometimes when I’m alone I cry,

‘Cause I am on my own.

The tears I cry are bitter and warm.

They flow with life but take no form.

I cry because my heart is torn.

I find it difficult to carry on.

I I had an ear to confiding,

I would cry among my treasured friend,

but who do you know that stops that long

to help another carry on.

The world moves fast

and it would rather pass by,

Then to stop and see what makes one cry,

so painful and sad.

And sometimes …

I cry

and no one cares about why.


by Tupac Shakur (1971 – 1996)



Making Love


Making Love

Making Love

My bones shiver,
my eyes quiver.
Goosebumps grow,
aroused and oh
the sight I see
lying beside me.
Her enticing flesh, angelic;
My raging passions, enthetic.
The sweltering heat
Caresses our feet;
Together we enjoin
with burning loins.
Neck and neck we bite.
So lustful a fight,
it’s a luminous site.
Thrust after thrust
and kiss after kiss,
tainted in love’s musk:
it’s a heavenly bliss.
As the climax recedes,
we are blisteringly satisfied.
We lie there in peace
smoking cigarettes, gratified.

By Mensur Gjonbalaj
January 27, 2016

Silent Tomb

albertina edvard munch

Edvard Munch

Silent Tomb

We all fear
and I get that.
What else could
loneliness be other than
that of death?
We die, are thrown into the earth,
and like the womb
of our mother,
lie there in the belly
of partial existence.

Once having lived
and breathed the air
of life.
We now float about
the darkened layers
of dirt,
perhaps the breathe
of death.
We may have had
someone by our side
at the very last moments;
Tears may be shed
in lieu of our demise.
Still, alone we end up
and unlike seeds
thrown into soil, no sprouting.
And so shall an eternity be spent,

by Mensur Gjonbalaj

January 26, 2016

Black Soul


Black Soul

Black Soul

My soul.
Black as a moonless night;
Brighter than a thousand suns;
Dense in its propensity to love;
Unreliable when in doubt,
yet faithful in its convictions;
Struggle strengthens it;
Benevolence touches it;
Deviancy may embrace it
through sallowed senses,
But power humbles it.
I did not ask for it,
but neither have rejected it.
Simply put, it is who I am,
How I am,
and what I am.
Tarnished or pure,
my soul is my consciousness.
By day it interacts with the world around it;
By night it dreams through the thoughts that surround it.
Waking life is ephemeral,
as are our days: numbered and weighed.
Still our souls, intangible and surreal,
tarry amidst the depths of the universe,

By Mensur Gjonbalaj
January 21, 2016

Like Marvin, Through the Grapevine


Marvin Gaye

Like Marvin, Through the Grapevine

Like Marvin,
I heard it through the grapevine,
knowing someday that you’d be mine.
Isn’t it funny how despite what we
think or feel
Time goes on running our lives
like a movie reel.
Call it fate or luck.
Chances seemed low,
but who gives a fuck.
I guess it’s true what they say:
no one knows what’s coming their way.
Deep in my heart there was always room for hope,
regardless of it being denial or a way to cope.
Reality’s trend is typically dim,
with an aura of gloom.
But doesn’t merely cower or seep in to what we see as impending doom.
Sometimes the universe gives us a silver lining
and works things out in our favor.
These are the moments to look forward to
and when they come, savor!

by Mensur Gjonbalaj
January 18, 2016

An Indian Prayer


Native American

A beautiful Native American poem/prayer.

An Indian Prayer
My grandfather is the fire
My grandmother is the wind. 
The Earth is my mother
The Great Spirit is my father 
The World stopped at my birth 
and laid itself at my feet 
And I shall swallow the Earth whole when I die
and the Earth and I will be one 
Hail The Great Spirit, my father
without him no one could exist
because there would be no will to live 
Hail The Earth, my mother
without which no food could be grown 
and so cause the will to live to starve 
Hail the wind, my grandmother
for she brings loving, life-giving rain
nourishing us as she nourishes our crops 
Hail the fire, my grandfather
for the light, the warmth, the comfort he brings
without which we be animals, not men 
Hail my parent and grandparents
without which
not I 
nor you
nor anyone else
could have existed 
Life gives life 
which gives unto itself
a promise of new life 
Hail the Great Spirit, The Earth, the wind, the fire 
praise my parents loudly
for they are your parents, too 
Oh, Great Spirit, giver of my life
please accept this humble offering of prayer
this offering of praise
this honest reverence of my love for you

By H. Craig Kent