Legacy Account

Practice dead.
Go'head.
Ain't any life 'round here anyways.
Go'head.
Play dead.
Practice 'til ye get it down, fucker.
Y'know. Practice 'til perfect, and shit like that.
Death practice, hey kiddies, Practice !)
Practicing Dead
(Go'head.....
get outta The fckn Way,
damn'it.

Practically dead.    And
Deadly practicle ! )
(O, deathly doodah day!)

The dead shall inherit Thee Earth.
(Man, that's a lotta dirt ! )
("40 acres and a mule", daddyo. Cain't kick'bout that ! ).

And wings....like Noah's dove.




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dankozakdkzkFEB24/2021\ poooom+pixtr $$$$$$$$$$$$

When I lay upon my deathbed  
And ponder all the words left to ears unsaid    
To the world I give of my beautiful musings, read upon the scrolls of my creed    
To give honor in its reprimand for those who refused to see    
Inhaling the air my Creator has anointed    
To the souls who I’ve witnessed desecrate in such a disappointment      
     
Did I give to the less fortunate who stood with their hand out in the pouring rain    
With words of encouragement to heal their pain    
Offered the shoes from off me feet    
To give to strangers for the progression of their footsteps upon our departing meet    
     
Were my arms always receptive, huggable as they remained open    
To give unconditional love when minds deny the existence of their soul to become awoken    
Did my skin color elevate in the wake of earthly chaos      
When hatred, bigotry, and racial diversity politically tossed    
Lives lost, did I demand change at all cost    
     
Did my eyes see man’s technology as a weaponry few would never understand    
Was my voice heard in union to love one another echoed across the great lands    
My heart, was it always in the right place    
To accept humanity no matter the gender or race    
Did I sing to the children with melodies of kindness, respect, giving them a sense of hope    
Prepare their intellect for life, give them aspirations for their dreams to promote    
     
Was my Temple of purity governed in its truest state    
An example of unselfishness to surrender in love when it came for me to procreate      
The rules of forgiveness and its principles, was I a law-abiding citizen    
Listen to the sermons of Theology to forsake the temptation of sins time and time again    
I looked down at my trembling hands, my breathing has become shallow and labored    
Until the cradle of my coffin I shall now rest like a sleeping baby in a manger      
     
To my eyes I look up prepared, I can clearly see that beaming light, as I come to understand    
The energy is not in the tongue to speak iniquity, but to love like the flow of timeless sand    
In remembrance to look back and ask of yourself was I this woman or man    
I can now close my eyes in reverent peace, cry for me no more as tears come to silently weep    
My earthly vessel shall lay in wake, reprieved      
As the spirit of my soul has now been divinely received    
     
In humble dedication to a DUP poet who has received his beautiful wings, RIP (dkzksaxxas_DanielX)

us to love and laugh
while we breathe;
 
teach us tradition
and appreciation;
 
teach us to cook  
clean, and save;
 
teach us to extend  
mercy and grace;  
 
teach us to say no
to what we do not need;
 
teach us to accept  
death as a beginning;
 
teach us to say goodbye  
and carry on living
~

 

                         Dire Henry  
          hammers                 everything north or
south
or east of west............the clink/clang
heard hours away
                portraying the dominance of
        man
over god                just as she/he and every
                                                                  thing.

Forget god. Yes forget.
make'up a little dance of your own.
For whatever it's worth.
Like the Centennial of the Sandohog's labors
               bringing billions'o gallons
               of crisp waters to suffering NYC,
          (Crown Jewel of the Hemispheric North.

And the labor's labor on and on,
the tricks as visible as the trash site
                        of the local trashing.

There's no relative truth that goes wit
       this hunger, but the dance may be
        an able posture of
                         possession, of
                               potential , of
                                  the process of
of seeing the relative of a  blessed, wholly invaluable ,
             state of stillness , taking it's time,
                                                            as is fulfilling, knowing
                knowing the constancy on poeting
                            the state of this overwhelmed mind,
             settling for the action of no more,
                                                                 for now'ever.


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        2012  feb   21  ~    dkzk, LLD       poetics,+ (badfotos