Thirty Days Of Poetry(Day Ten)

Always
Not like future based
but like dependence
without the pending
more deep than dense
more presence than past tense
something like the moonlight to the owl
summertime to the bees honey
“refreshing” is your middle name
but like the ancients you have many
“comforting”
“inspiring”
your beauty glistens
naturally like morning dew
elevated embrace
your erotica educates
clothing my ascension
in the silk of god’s chrysalis
appreciation
always

Thirty Days of Poetry(Day Nine)

I am not one with god, nor one of god
I am that I am
part and parcel, not quite
try: it and all that
try: you only witness what I allow you too
westernized inside your mind
divided by definitions of space and time
minimized by ghetto designs
i am fine divinty
the more honestly
the more pure the powder of the power ‘WE’
in my likeness
i write these verbal elixers
take a sip or a snort
find false figments of your heart
and go to war with it
leave the world a little different
join my cause and have fun with it
still i’m poor and righteous
like clarence
assassinated in that elevator
because he was elevating…
he was the elevator
i write for hell’s natives
no longer looking for the answer
still figuring out the right questions
principles that life’s suggesting…

Thirty Days of Poetry(Day Eight)

you believe in gods that make men…
I believe in men that make gods…
I have no need to scream jihad
i witnessed the ways and means my elders died
a slave for money or a slave of myths
why be man, woman or child?
civilization where humans behave wild
lies told to enslave minds wholesale
where we agree:no soul, freedom or bail…
wholeness and the Media Influenced order
droughts in the middle of oceans with no borders…
disorderly watchmen, but who are you watching over?
lord give us these daily skies
and give our evolved wing children the breath to fly
remove me my nightly dreams of past survival lessons
take from those who trespass against our progression
severed heads as justice, forgiveness after processions
help us teach the impossible and the unseen
through more than dubious laws and beliefs unquestioned
bless them by reminding self of SELF
divinity is only divinity
no separation of finite shells and eternal reality
you believe in gods that make men…
i believe in men that make gods…

Thirty Days Of Poetry(Day Seven)

Sometimes i need to scream
like a banshee on crack
no control of the urge
often needed to completely purge
no love lost
hell wasn’t much gained
the human being is indeed strange
glamor appropriated from your brain
yet you wallow in your pain
point and holler as you strain
to condemn the rules of this game
yet you enacted this charade
fully vouched for their campaign
sold a thought or two for the fame
packaged sorrows
well designed depression is what you gave
crocodile tears fill the nile
while the people are parted
you scream hatred of your dearly departed
white arrows aimed at black targets
Afrikan secrets sold on the european market
black winged stallion, I’m a sign
the godz are watching are watching over mind

Thirty Days of Poetry(Day Six)

Her name was Capitalism
and she drove me insane.
The way she ran her name
across everything from
medicine to sun shades
from the sublime to the man made
from the sacred to the secular
in fact, everything she touched
became impure
i was cool with that
my innocence was gambled on a crush
made a deal with god and got crossed
better than winning with the devil
i’d suppose
in the land of the lost
capitalism seduces our souls
by draping us in branded clothes
like i need another rich white man’s name
tatooed on my soul
the beautiful charms of a woman unexposed
can be tarnished by dolce and gabana shades
under head garment rolls
no matter how traditional
i don’t want no dashikis designed by polo
but my soul’s fast and my mind’s slow
capitalism got me,
dragging me by my nose
laughing at me and my ideals
whispering,”they only like you
when everybody that is somebody
has approved your seal…”

dirty bitch…

Thirty Days of Poetry(Day Four)

sunlit shades of serenity
an eternity of children smiling at me
choice thoughts that echo liberation
enlightenment over socialization
no more microwaved ideation
half-baked thoughts can’t raise men
fortified text based lessons
inked in the flesh thinking
published in experiences
delivered over frying fears
awaken the drying tears
that escaped the lying years
truth to heart relying here
soldiers of scholarly mention
without the debt deception
random murmerings give way to create
a state of statelessness
a place of non-being but seeing
hearing, living, breathing…
misguided clots that life knots
god or not, vibration higher plane
I am glad I came…
i am the miracle that i prayed for…

30 Days Of Poetry (Day 1)

Your frontal lobe is leaking battery acid
Instead of attempting to be drained and flaccid
Instead of pulling rabbits out of hats
for an audience of women who really need their backs kicked
why don’t you spend some time figuring out
what part of the electro-magnetic spectrum
your next thought is going to vibrate from.

Your ears are vomiting blood profusely
do you see what you are listening to?
Or do you prefer to dream in braille?
The artist of corporate castles
have decided that they have had enough with poverty
they no longer have the time to be bother with the
ends and outs of actually being creative
and have opted for sensationalized idioms
That’s when they take a theory they haven’t studied
and do a video that saves them money
place a naked body somewhere on the screen
and call it impregnated with social and political commentary.
No wonder the world has lost its way
the dreamers have sold their dreams for half the pay
at least with plastic women I get it my way…
no interpretation of mixed signals sexually portrayed
if she says “fuck” she don’t mean “shoot”…
and even if she do
she’s only letting me know that the video is through…