unKNOWN NYC

The wounded soul of a mortal bleeds true emotions. - #tmnk #streetart #poetry

Stripped of bandanna and all pretense. I share with the world that which i need, crave. Love and affection. I yearn to touch you in intimate places with deep thoughts and images that etch themselves upon your soul for all eternity. I want to be that song that’s in your head all day.

Yes, IAM here to tempt you, tease you, provoke you, to make you think, to make you feel.

I am beauty. I am Love.

I am a poem. I am a song.

I am art.

Love Me.

#tmnk #tinypiecesofmysoul #selfportrait #love #poem #poetry #truth

Please. Wont you try a little. I attatch importance to the universe. i with a heart full of love. i love my god. man. you. the killing way wants my soul, an old guide. You’re the writer, make a speech for the hopes. #Tmnk #quote #streetart #poetry

Lonely Tears

I began this journey alone feeling sad, a pencil and a pad. Why did they lock me up, was I that bad?

Lonely Tears.

Did you see the little boy with the tears in his eyes, his back baring the marks of his master’s whip. And that blood soaked pillow from his busted lip?
As the detective explained my good fortune, swimming pool, nice house, and to get a grip. I was a nobody, the incorrigible child, that didn’t seem to fit.
More Lonely tears…

Alone in my room I began to draw, to find release for the pain that nobody saw. I was beauty personified, I remember one teacher saying, but the beatings continued, so I continued disobeying.
Rebelling, rebellious, refusing to be seen and not heard as the elders tell us. The problem child, the street artist, can you see me now? Do you hear me yelling?

Lonely Tears…

Because what becomes a dream deferred?
But worse yet, what becomes a dream and it’s dreamer, treated like a turd, kicked to the curb?
What happens to a child’s lonely voice, if never heard?
If in between each lash of the whip, no “I LOVE YOU”, just “nigga you ain’t shit.”

More Lonely Tears…

These Lonely tears, have left stains on the corridor of my mind that nobody hears. And let’s be honest, until you’re Somebody, most times Nobody cares.
There are more of us dying on the inside, which leads to more of us dying on our streets outside. And It’s a cold, cold world, yet
most of our children are equipped with the wrong type heat, years later abandoned and consumed by the streets.
More Lonely tears trampled beneath uncaring feet.

Did you see the little boy with tears in his eyes, as you hurried by,that was me.

These paintings, these scribblings I’ve left on the walls of your soul (and perhaps some of your buildings),
are conversations with generations yet unborn, these are just my…

Lonely Tears.

#tmnk #streetart #poetry #lonelytears #nyc #graffiti #nobodycares

What would Don Quixote Do? So it has begun, the never ending journey. The slow crawl, then walk out of darkness. As I paint few see the transformation from nothingness, blank canvas, to splattered misaligned abstractions, to cognitive messages imbued in paint, to that which soul, ego, and eyes call great. It,and I become something that wasn’t before. It and I become something few can ignore. As I paint I manifest my destiny, inspiring stories for the scorned, and the nobody’s yet unborn. #tmnk #donquixote #streetart #poetry #message (Taken with Instagram)

Love, little poems written on toilet tissue. #tmnk #tinypiecesofmysoul #streetart #poetry (Taken with Instagram)

I wait here for you to gently hold me, and to help me find the truth. #streetart #poetry #tmnk #tinypiecesofmysoul #graffiti (Taken with Instagram)

I once danced in the shadows of me. Afraid to live. Afraid to love. #tmnk #sketchbook #poetry #love (Taken with Instagram)

Tiny pieces of my soul left in the streets. #tmnk #streetart #poetry (Taken with Instagram)

I don’t ask a poor man for food. With my hands in my pockets I weep. #streetart #poetry #postnobills #tmnk (Taken with instagram)