Jaden Smith’s – SYRE : Album Review


“So, you think you can save rap music?”

A heavy question asked at the close of Breakfast (feat. A$AP Rocky) on Jaden Smith’s 2017 album, “SYRE”. He may be able to salvage hope from the naysayers of contemporary rap.  “SYRE” exudes a level of maturity that is difficult for artists to nail in the relatively “young” album.

The beats are fire. The delivery is fire. Jaden Smith’s second solo rap album consists of full sounds, hard hitting drums, and pure theatrics.

The first four tracks are titled:





Jaden’s sister, Willow Smith, opens the album with her dreamy voice to the simple ticking of a music box. It ends with a healthy dose of spoken word.

(Baby sister dropped some fire too. Listen here.)

My favorite track, however, is Ninety. A few tracks are longer than the standard radio three minute TRT. There are of course a few that will translate well to radio, including: “Icon”, “Watch Me”, and “Batman”. All three are front runners on his Vevo. 

Many artists before him have done drastic mid track tempo changes. Some tracks are reminiscent of Kendrick Lamar’s rap style: one half being slower paced, and the other faster. The production on Track 12, “Watch Me”, is almost identical to Kanye’s Black Skin Head, with “Batman” has a similar rap style in Drake and Future’s “Jumpman”. Ultimately the album will have the listener ascending to a higher consciousness; according to Complex Magazine, it feels like what Jaden was going for.

As should be suspected of a deep thinker, Jaden cites poetry at some point in almost every track. He subtlety grazes the subject of race and the standard boy meets girl narrative. He also seems to admire Teslas, as he mentions it frequently throughout the album.

(who is Syre anyway?)

In the last two minutes of most the tracks, the tempo and dialogue change, however, the tracks play together seamlessly where it’s difficult to know when one begins and ends.


SYRE is definitely meant to provoke thought and does not seem to have been made for the hype. Jaden set the bar high for himself. Super excited to see what art he puts out next.

Feel free to reach out with suggestions, tips, and/or love!

IG: @kiz_nichole | Twitter: @kiz_nichole | Facebook: kizzie.frank



@k.moss_photography - RAW Series


There is no such thing as luck. Only God’s timing and proper use of free will

Free yourself

From the bonds of attachments to objects and desires…

That weigh heavy on our hearts as we struggle to find the meaning of existence. Struggle to find our purpose.

Have you been told you can’t? Don’t you feel them watching your every move… to document every time you trip over uneven pavement?

Free yourself. You goals are yours. Even when the most attractive doors close.

The no’s will only help you grow.

It will keep a powerful pull in the pit of your stomach to get up and go.

Remember that even when you fall, you are still whole.

That is not by chance.

There is no such thing as luck. Only God’s timing and proper use of free will

Will you free yourself from the bonds of external expectations?

Accept the challenge. Shed that weight that is the wall between you and your ability to be great.

“No” is the magic word.

for determination.

Use it as fuel, but don’t forget to do it for you.



Feel free to reach out with suggestions, tips, and/or love!

IG: @kiz_nichole | Twitter: @kiz_nichole | Facebook: kizzie.frank

Rose: Sonnet #1

In the Garden

In the garden, hands pat fresh soil around a seed.

Just a little water, feed, and overtime…

A bud sprouts, surrounded by family of weeds.

Pluck the weeds. Just a little water, feed and overtime…

Time passes and a rose struggles to blossom.

It’s a little dull. Just a little more water, feed, and…

A browned petal falls from the, now, tall stem.

Just a little more water, feed, and…

Love. For him. For her.

The remaining petals regain their radiance. The beauty is undeniable.

Just a little more…

Hands pat fresh soil. She is viable now. The gardener turns to walk away.

Perfect. No need to stay.

In the garden, she speaks.

My love. I am ready.

My love. Take me with you.


Happy Valentines Day!

Feel free to reach out with suggestions, tips, and/or love!

IG: @kiz_nichole | Email: kafee1867@gmail.com | Twitter: @kiz_nichole | Facebook: kizzie.frank

The Great Divide

The Great Divide.

Students…take a seat and

Let us partake in…words

How do we define peace/ when our

Levels of stress can only be relieved with our skin caressed in sweat

When does the struggle subside?

You see, the truth lies in the lies in the eyes of politicians and the dispositions of society to oppress

We dehydrate in the fire, forced to drink our tears to survive

Most hide behind the lines of the Great Divide

Take it back to the purple, black, and white folk

Words of folklore derived from our purple black and white ancestors. The Great Divide

So how do we define peace? Who really, is the ally?

Through rhythms, rhymes and haikus; Shakespeare sonnets and melodies

All granted by the hands of God himself, to bridge the gap. The Great Divide

Music as art, art as war, war as a hindrance to all innocence

Art as music, as war must commence in our struggle to stop the struggle

To achieve the peace

Break it into pieces, call it …words.

Use it to paint tapestries that lick the stature of the Mona Lisa. Resting point

At the Great Divide

Words as art, art as music trickle down from the top of the cranium, and kick off the tips of a pen onto

A rhythmic canvass, like morning dew in the sweetest meadows of Greece. Peace. In the Great Divide

In the mind of an artist, of a dreamer, there is such word as retire

Retire to the prison

Prisoners within walls of fire, that is, the walls of the edge of our desires

When we find ourselves between these rocks and other hard places, we search for embraces only to

find empty spaces

Ironically, we can find peace behind its own definition which so happens to be

The lack of hesitation as a single nation, under God

That is, HE who is the motivation, up high where stress is no threat

Up high is the direction to aim. To the other side of the middle of the Great Divide

Just when the struggle to battle the struggle subsides, consistency has a tendency to die

Common passersby call it cries, we call it…words. So we continue to drink our tears to survive

Walk through the wastelands left by man.

Art as music, music as war, and war as a challenge

Music as war as art as poetry. Call it…words


After thought: What are some things you can take from this poem? How do you think the fight for social/racial/gender equality is going? Are you a soldier in that fight?

Feel free to reach out with suggestions, tips, and/or love!

IG: kafee1867 | Email: kafee1867@gmail.com | Twitter:@kiz_nichole | Facebook: kizzie.frank

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