Arthur’s poetry

November 20, 2006

Tomorrow’s story is about Arthur Kiyaga and some of the things he does away from the rink. He writes poetry and I think his work is brilliant. As a writer, I’m a little jealous. LOL. Seriously, the hardest part of this story was picking which of his pieces to share with you.

The primary target of this undertaking was initiated to articulate my mental activity in a way which would
allow others to formulate thoughts of their own. Those knowing me well may be alarmed as they explore the following pages because this publication mirrors a reflection of me that is distant in the eyes of many. Some of the expressed opinions and phrases aren’t total portrayals of the individual I represent, but instead are snapshots of controversial observations which have arisen spontaneously. There have and will continue to be many inquiries surrounding the chosen title. Just like any other ism,  “Kiyaga-ism” encapsulates a diminutive canvas of the theories and ideologies echoing within my personality. What started out as a tedious habit to help pass time on my long hockey road trips, escalated into what is now being held in your hands. Having a photo shoot, album and athletic career under my belt, I’m now focused on the academic aspect of my life. With that, I’d like to officially invite you
to “Kiyaga-ism: “Poetry with a lil’ twist!”

 

Please Open Your Gates

It’s said to be the most historically
accurate book to date

Yet it has managed to put today’s
youth in a confused mind of state

As my eyes run through your pages in
search of light

They’re fatigued like running up a
mountain without a peak in sight

Marx said it’s for those who can’t
handle the immediate pressures

They close their eyes to reality in
seeking spiritual pleasures

All the different colours of your
religious teachings

Make me question the hue of Sunday
morning preachings

Each Mormon, Nun and Jehovah Witness

All claiming to be the best in the
business

Make me feel like a highly touted
prospect

Yet all the doorstep offers make me
loose respect

Every belief seems to downgrade their
“competition”

In hopes of persuading my spiritual
decisions

Besides births, medical survivals and
natural disasters

You’re only portrayed through
scripture and devoted pastors

The classification of religious is
broadened every year

The major component of its glue relies
solely on fear

Whenever there’s a blind man trying to
find his way

People turn a blind eye and carry on
with their day

They may want to help but don’t sense
an obligation

They’ll wade in a pool of guilt
through further observation

You’ve always said your word possesses
the power to divide

And regardless of inner strength our
feelings will collide

If at a high school party I started
praying how I knew

I’d single handedly split the entire
room into two

But every single creation has some
type of creator

Just like every successful person is
ensued by haters

                             Yes, I’ve tried (BLEEP) and been
caught by nine eleven

But Lord I’m here and need the
combination to heaven

 

Sitting On The Fence

 Friends half his complexion question
his direction

They say he’s white, though the
mirror shows a black reflection

Like a Michelangelo portrait, he’s
just been framed

Rather than solely being
pigmentation, his actions are to blame

Never visited, slept or been locked
in a prison

But they want to lock and blind the windows
of his visions

He’s constantly asked if he’s seen a
gun firsthand

When Yale and Harvard, not jail, are
his plans

It’s got him looking around rather
than within

He’ll act double black just to fit in

The handcuffs on his wrists can’t
contain his goals

‘cause his soul revives them like
blowing on glowing coals

The way he’s gambled and banked
intellectual wealth

Makes his thoughts too rich for Trump
himself

The shackles on his feet only act as
ankle weights

Others have to climb as he hurdles
judgmental gates

The judge believes in his case but
has a hierarchical duty

She wishes she possessed his
psychological beauty

He’ll challenge the doubters to
countless competitions

‘cause proving he could run and jump
was a personal mission

But the fact alone he justifies
himself

Makes it evident he’s insecure about
himself

He’s never judged people by the
colour of their skin

But society has him holding this
mentality within

Because he’s sick and tired of coming
to his own defense

He’s confused and decides to sit on the
fence

He sometimes acts like the person
he’s not

But this will force his inner self to
rot

 

Evaporated Dreams

Her visions magnify when she closes
her eyes

She’ll cover her ears but will still
hear the cries

Her mouth’s wide open, but her taste
buds lie

Though her nose is blocked, it feels
the bread rise

She’s able to walk though her legs
are dead

Her brain’s at work when she doesn’t
use her head

But what’s the point of dreams that
lack the legs

Of walking reality on foot,
wheelchair or a peg?

It’s one thing to talk; another to
listen

But watching kids starve as your
watch glistens…

Though AIDS and poverty should never
be condoned

Corrupt governments are the prime
syndrome


Some think that UNICEF is really Uni-Theft

Corporate organizations prosper,
while orphans are left

The visible amount of single black
mothers

Begs the question of super sperm and
needle pierced rubbers

Throwing a large sum of money and
turning a blind eye

Only provides the visually inviting
icing on the pie

Understanding the infrastructure and
culture of those

Who are in need of help, help
accomplish goals

Deeper than anyone’s imagination
could ever dive

So deep you’d need scuba gear just to
stay alive

 

American Thug

Immature comments after immature
comments

Process through your brain and make
you want to vomit

I got a gun to your mom’s pregnant
belly

And I’ll leave her hanging like a cow
at a deli

Even ugly roses need fertilization

To grow and prosper at the highest
elevation

2Pac transformed the ghetto into his
stage

                                    And though he died, his legend will
never age

                                    From Gangs of New Yorkto Tony Montana

Handkerchiefs and table clothes used
as bandanas

A thug’s aura lies on daily
theatricals

Yet he made the life adored and so practical

He saw the problems others wouldn’t
publicize

And spoke his mind without a stutter
or compromise

The constant utterance of him being a
gangsta

                            Shocked him ‘cause he felt America was the biggest gangsta

                                          If a country “unjustly” raids the US

The States gang up to illustrate who’s
best

They repeatedly exhibit the military
power

Needed to make others appear like
cowards

Is this not a replica of the ghetto
streets?

This was the answer he desperately
tried to seek

Like father like son, he learned from
his surroundings

Yet he’s targeted for his intellectual
findings

As 2Pac murdered other rappers
lyrically

                                     The US killed innocent civilians physically

Because the teachers and textbooks
really couldn’t

He unlocked our minds when some felt
he shouldn’t

To the idealistic embodiment of a thug

The majority of rappers wouldn’t even
drown a bug

Fear is stronger than love could ever
be

Just look at the media’s war tactic
theories

 

Hooked On One Look

When I first saw you, it was like
breathing fresh air

All my other breaths before couldn’t
even compare

It was on the bus and you had a
lollipop

I ogled you so hard that I missed my
stop

You were talking on your cell as you
felt me looking

You’re like that special guest that
has everyone cooking

I pressed the pause button so your
voice would hit my ears

I escorted you with my eyes as you
navigated to the rear

I tried to stay low key and keep it
discrete

But you’d blush every time our eyes
would meet

My first impressions were you already
had a man

And this almost put a halt to all my
plans

I may be stupid, but with love I
don’t play

Even a broken clock is right two
times a day

You magnetized every single one of my
thoughts

We were distant points and I was
trying to connect the dots

Even though the commuters felt the
instant connection

I had the urge to talk, but strongly
feared rejection

I wanted your number but didn’t know
what to say

Would we hook up or both part our own
ways?

I wanted to thank your parents for
the beautiful creation

If you didn’t want to rush things,
I’d be patient

Watching you blink ran chills down my
spine

I need a parka with you constantly on
my mind

The old lady beside me chuckles at my
every move

‘cause she senses puppy love with a
teenaged groove

Every time you looked, my smile told
no lies

I saw our wedding in the reflection
of your eyes

I asked if you liked basketball and
wanted to catch a game

But I forgot the most vital
question,”What’s your name?”

 

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12 Responses to “Arthur’s poetry”

  1. Shutterbug Says:

    Arthur you write wondrous poems!

  2. JR Says:

    Good stuff….

  3. Brandon Says:

    Arthur, you have made me realize how much I miss writing poety of my own and that I really need to get back into it. Wonderful work and I hope to hear more…Much Respect.

  4. JungleMonkey Says:

    Any poems about hockey fights? Goalie brawls? ………Nice stuff, Arthur.

  5. Tony E Says:

    And you guys wondered why the Komets think so much of this guy. The general stereotype of hockey players is they are about as dumb as the boards they go head first into (yes I am the poster child for that stereotype). This guy sounds like he could be working on his Rhodes Scholarship as well as his slapshot.

  6. Bob Says:

    Arthur, thank you for sharing your poems with us. Very well written and thoughtful.

    I especially liked the one titled “Please Open Your Gates” and “Hooked On One Look”.

  7. Tony E Says:

    Ok…I received an email from a blogger saying my post above appeared to be insulting Arthur!?!?
    Just to clarify…I was COMPLIMENTING his intelligence and applauding how diverse and multitalented he is. I apologize if what I said above could be considered an insult.

  8. Heather Says:

    It didn’t seem to me you were insulting him but what do I know lol. Some of those poems were a little crazy but overall he is very talented. Keep up the good work on and off the ice.

  9. imsmithkaiser Says:

    Arthur

    Great work on the poetry. It makes you think just how bad society is. You are very talented person off and on the ice. Keep up the good work as a Komet and your beautiful talent as a poet.

  10. iluvhockey Says:

    Awesome poetry Arthur. I can remember an article once written by another player that was extremely well written. We had told that player that when he leaves hockey, he should take up writing. He just laughed and said that’s what his mom had told him. Arthur possessess a specail gift that so many of us will never have. Keep it coming Arthur.

  11. Gooder Says:

    Arthur,

    It’s tough to connect a hockey player with poetry, but i must say, im very impressed with your work (on and off the ice)- keep it up.

    Cheers bud,

    Gooder

  12. Kate Says:

    arthur,
    i would like to take personal credit for all your poetry skills, seeing as i was your inspiration all threw high school, and even let you use my rhymes for your poetry.. hahha
    thanks for being the most unique hockey player, you set the bar for everyone to follow!

    KATE


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