Choices Pt. 1

You can watch me fly…
My soulmate, serving me well
Allowing me to dispel, all myths of utopia.
Blended minds, though crooked times
Make me wonder how true the tall tale is…
When I have seen glorious moments
And I am confused and alone
I rest upon my throne
Battered and bludgeoened
But I, force myself to stand tall
I look to the heavens.
My soul runs in the pastures
The colorful wild weeds
Decorating the land with grand
Understandings of life.
I saw a vision through it all.
I watched the heavy rain fall,
Then cleanse the earth
So that I may find refuge in the understated desire to redeem.
Habits formed from years of struggle.
From years of passing time.
From years of hustle and grind.
Making due,
When the path was not in clear view.
And then,
Dreams of soulmate and twin flame,
And love and lust
Refrain and restrain.
Frustrated – making a choice shouldn’t be this hard.
To Be Continued…

Cloud 9

Once I watched a young girl cry,
She was wounded deep inside.
From a society that neglected her
Used her and abused her.
But then I saw her rise.

She went on to find hope.
She escaped the liquor and dope
Escaped the over sexed moments that were expected of her.
She allowed me to see her
In the true sense of divine vision.

Where eyes gaze through walls
Only to flip the image and bounce it back.
Because she was bouncing back
And though she was always under attack
She knew that in order for her people to survive
It was her destiny to never lose sight of the prize.

This is when I knew,
That this world was controlled by only a few.
That this girl knew how to navigate the distance
Between sorrow and sadness,
Through triumph and gladness.

She was suffering yet challenging the status quo.
She understood that she could transcend universes with a decent flow.

 And so, she put pen to pad.
And she wrote.
She a wrote poem so sweet,
That it made me love, lust, and cry all in the same heartbeat.
I bought into her indulgence of the words.
Her attack on the absurd,
Her grit and might and woman power.

I was entranced, watching her lips move,
Watching her hips groove
I didn’t even know what to do.
I was stuck, feet planted, cemented in the concrete.

I winced out loud,
Cause I wanted her so bad.
I wanted to wipe away her sad.
I looked out into the universe.
I shook myself free of the fantasy.
I began to look at her realistically

She was there to save my soul.
How convenient, how bold.
In the end, we’ll both win.
It was in that moment I realized…
It’s been a long time, since I’ve been on cloud nine.

Her Right To Do Wrong

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She thought it was her right to do wrong.
Same old pain, same old song.
Travelin’ on her path alone, lookin’ for love in one after another.
 
 
 
Dirty tricks and silly games, began to form into reality
Tragedy
 
 
 
 
False gods and false hopes, thicken his spot, thickened her plot.
Dangerous time for a sista in need of the love she once held near.
 
 
 
Hurting from a lifetime of disappointment from brotha men, tryna get in.
Wishing for her to fall, for a chance, a little romance and late night calls
or the midday infidels.
 
The three wise men that did the most damage waited for their chance to redeem,
But in the scheme of things became cowardice,
Only telling their stories from their eyes,
Which bred little healing and rhetoric in disguise.
 
They too lie in pain, and ultimate disdain for the queens in their view, in their reach.
So in the meantime, they mean well but soon swell and lose their focus on the real prize.
 
Third eyes slowly closing, getting just a glimpse of what they could become.
Fucking so much til their hearts became numb.
And dumb founded when they realized that their experience wasn’t enough – to keep her.  ‘Cause she been there, done that.
Don’t you see her?
 
She too numb and sad, mad at her life.
Wondering where did the time go.
Why she can’t find loyalty in a decent flow.
Words escape mouths, escaping words, leading to absurd foundations where in the Distance there appears to be more hope, non-judgmental,
It is feminine and kind and soft and willing and listening…
Vicarious vixen posing as mistress.
 
And so, she thought it was her right to be wrong.
But it was the same old pain, same old song.
And thus in the end, she traveled her path alone,
But still looking for love in the arms of another.
 
Regressed, and hit the reset.
But without the moment to heal, revealed was her deep side of trap and slide.
And dropped into depressive lingering phases.
Because though the phrases were so dope and pure, for once,
The past had a grasp on this little princess,
In this anecdote of love, longing and actual belonging.
 
 
The path had to come clear, the balance was near,
Then confession dropped, new home, renewed resting spot.
Safety was coming, through the pain, through the pause.
Ready to learn of the cause.
 
Ready.
 
The truth serum opened up the can of this saucy sista,
Learning of why he dismissed her, then missed her…
An all too common equation in the life and times of this tough lady spirit.
 
 
It’s time.  Wake up.  Withdraw.  Accept.  Destroy.  Rebuild.  Relax.  Repeat.  RITUAL.  Resonance. Rewrite.  Renaissance.  Ignite.  Testify.  Confess.  Then Heal.
 
 
The time clock traveled across the seas to find the Queen in blossom.
Respect.
The time clock traveled to a new space and cosmic love hate.
 
 
 
Mental capacity breached, bleached to the germs were crucified, and the lies?
Lay dormant in the dirt.
The beautiful lotus bloomed into righteous thought,
As she dealt with the scars of her wrongs.
 
 
 
 
She thought it was her right.  And she was correct,
But lacked the respect upon her own dome.
Living the symbolic manifestation from the comb.
Full of honey and feminine quality, her truth came to pass.
 
And at last. she. found. peace.

Refuge

Taking a mystical stance on this road to freedom.

When I’m confronted with the blindside,

Suffering from false pride,

Third eye opens wide.

Liquid pools of bliss.

Following the ancient thought,

Thoth if you truly taught,

Scribe for the ages,

The Goddess misbehavin’,

But shedding her truth to the world.

The masculine metaphor of righteous path and folklore relinquishes the damage and despair.

Ridding souls of dwelling scars, learning histories of soulmate broken promise and mistakes,

Lies for the cover-up…

And we wait…

In the mist of confession we wane, we blame, and we bend the rules.

All the while, we look for refuge in inner city bedroom blues.

Eclipse: The time has come…

This is a day of deep thought.  A rare moment when sun joins moon, where beat meshes with tune, when magic is being made.

Learned the deepest of lessons as I walked the humble path.  That day when karma comes to collect the debt.  When the stories of momma and poppa blend and explode with jali dreams.

The next perspective knows what it means.  The filter is thick and ready and preparing me for the unseen.  The gold is tainted and dented, but unstained and righteous.  Sharp as nails made of brass.

An art form concocted from a fatal blow, a pain unknown and defined by the untrained soul. The screams and cries unbearable and unshaken by apologies, matched sorrows and new companionship.

False hope had led a charge of downward spiral and desperation. The universe within in peril and despair and dangerously close to disrepair.

But the eclipse was on time. A sign from the divine. A day break forged by witness of self reflection and repentance. The clarity and sound mind now guide the lost child into hope and secure and friendship that shall endure.

Let the distractions be as they may, but allow the love to find peace, dipped in humble, dipped in lavenders and honey from the earth and crust.

And now, the time has come, to get back to my drum, and beat the rhythm of a thousand and one souls who once led a free and brilliant people.  A people who were beautiful and inventive and only troubled by the inevitability of an ancient past.  A past of dismiss and reject and nevertheless, the soul remained intact until primed for attack.  And after many years of plan and death and conquer of race, a people shall rise as will I.  My redemption, a micro of the grand scheme.  And my dream shall come true.  My team is me and you.  If I am deemed worthy, then my battle has only begun, the time has come, the moon has joined its sun.

Queen Mother

Life’s lessons got this thinking man operating on a new plan,

…in this troubled life.

Free of the deceit, disappointment and the strife

An inherent and fresh understanding, honoring the Queen Mother,

‘Cause she’s nurturing the bubbling brown faces of her oft-spring

Brought clarity to my view.  A lesson in hue.

Oh, how I wish my lessons could reverse the hour,

The times of pain and burning and searing individual prowess,

But here comes the rain.  The ONE true FEMININE.

Her gaze and soft voice blessing the beautiful babies

With that old time religion of drum and story and repeat and ancestor and abundance.

Abundance through role playing with the Warrior Class.

Deep moans and the babies bore witness to physical existence.

The sky breaks and blessings abound the earth in search of survival.

Survival of the empire, from the state of righteousness and necessity.

Look upon that Queen…

…with the stubborn wool crown jewel.

Possessing the burning spear of change and vibration.

Where did you come from?

Now my soul runs deep and wild.

I love your stance and style as you calmly strut.

If only I knew then what I know now.

But time for the rebirth, expressing my new learned lessons in rhythm and verse.

Stepping out of the hidden dark days of fear and death.

The Queen Mother shows the way.

Her likeness to a land defined by the divine.

A sun soaked presence preparing for the self-inflicted 60 year drought.

Until the day comes when man is born.

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RE-demption

I want to hate you, but would rather impregnate you,

With a gift from the most high, so must I deal with you.

In the moment of lust, loving and leaving you basking in dust.

Weathered storms to meet and greet with you.

Love let me lose my hope, pain – vetting and strain

And So…

The time has passed and I’m free from the bondage of you and me,

But lost in this wild style and I yearn for your eyes now.

The only truth I can understand.

So readily I grip the ground, holding fast to dreams of bliss.

And yet allowing stress and intervention to persist.

Fighting for richness and righteous with balled fist.

Wrong times, crooked lines, withstanding the onslaught of deceit you bring,

The leveled lies you embrace, the ignorance I despise.

Falling short and crossed lines, burning splinters of joy,

‘Cause you needed reproach, rebuke and repent.

Distracted, twisting religion – secretly wishing for devils to chase you.

I had to make sense of you in some way.

Sad and I miss the good old days.

(Wish I could return to the hybrid spirit supreme).

Hoping for dreams of clean and pure.

I’m a mind twister and you’re so insecure.

I once dug and dived but had to see the massive release of pseudo culture struck down with bribery.  

Trickery.  Vulnerability.

Struck down by moments of you learning to live without me.

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(Wish we could’ve been more patient).

Destruction seems to be our theme, perhaps a dream.

But the lessons smack you each time and you lose a piece of your soul.

I become hardened by yet another painful past manifested through the checkered path.

Simply do the math and watch your equation fade south, in and out, dropped, repeat, pleasure, desertion, wishing, writing, proclaiming, complaining, when all you had to do was stop.  And stand still.  Listen.  Heal.  Repeat.. Rise.  Oh Goddess RISE!!

Lift your head, the crown keeps sliding to the side.

What a journey we shared.  Asante.  Salaam.

Tutaonana…  SOON