Be afraid, Be more subtle, Be profound, Hide in plain sight, Dont speak out, Conceal your voice, Worry about your own life, For that is the only way to be at peace.
How can I be at peace when all I hear are ravenous wolves howling, Drooling and Growling, When all I see are their sharp canines grinding, Shredding, Every constitution of national pride fading When I see vultures, Scavenging and consuming every ounce of our wealth and freedom, Hyenas laughing, While they chew away every...
I tried counting sheep But unlike yours My sheep became reasons to stay a-wake They keep me woke They all are black and conscious of that fact Incessantly they bleat What it means to be black Never to weild true power but be the bulk of poverty and crime To be Born after the fact There is neither dusk nor dawn just a sad existence †and surviving the guillotine each day To cringe to the metalic sound of snipping scissors To be deemed worthless Because their pelage has the pigment of darkness
Guns and guitars Both liberators Bullets and Blues Both mediators Death and Dance Victory indicators
Freedom songs and hearts beating Bullistic precision and rhythmic percussion, Sounds of redemption Emanating from chaos and celebration Whether you dodge the bullet Or find your long lost rhythm Gratitude and relief is what follows And your faith is renewed
When you cock the gun and pull the trigger Fine tune the strings and play the guitar, In that moment you are responding to a higher calling, ...
Stealth is her trade, Creeping; Slowly; under the cloak of solitude, Every step carefully calculated To bring perfect misery on her targeted prey, Frail! Thats how she prefer them, She flaunts her unkempt figure like a beautiful mess, Her allure, enchanting like a siren song She cannot be ignored Like a beautiful damsel she occasionally plays possum, Just to draw closer her prey , disarm, dominate, and devour Leaving behind a trail of tears and sadness
Iam de-press-ed, And you my dear are op-press-ed, Now though the truth in our "press" may spell things differently, It ends the same way, with "ed" at the top of both our problems. Now tell me, What do you think will bring an eNd to our problems?
Its wrong but feels right, Its love beyond first sight, It makes one want to write Songs like Solomon and his impure plight, It fills the heart with fright, Pounding with all its might, Its nocturnal, it should never leave the dead of night, Or see the break of dawn or a new light , But yet still its love, Wrong or right, For it we will always fight.
Before we begin I need you to close your eyes Take a deep breathe Exhale, in and out, breathe in and out Now listen to the sound of my voice And let it linger I will count to seven, then snap my finger You will wake up, and in your ear one question I will whisper And see what reaction that question will trigger.
Now let us begin;
(One) Picture yourself in a garden, Itís a marvel, flowers canít help but swivel, Bees are busy buzzing, birds singing and crickets chirping, Its Eden, you just put the lion to sleep in...
Poets are very poetic beings, They speak what they don't mean, Mean what they cant speak, Speak a lot but are never mean, Are mean when they dont speak, Don't speak unless words are the only means, Their means only good when they speak.
They are idea driven Action void They Invent lies But are always right.
Knowledgeable on virtue but lean towards vice and evil devices, Such vile creatures. If the devil was a poet, Imagine how sweet would be his vices.
Beautiful creatures practice restrain, They raise a hand only when they have something to say, They know that it is not violence that validates oneís claim to being a man, They are man enough by just showing that they care.
Beautiful creatures practice restrain, They donít fear losing power by empowering HER, They listen for they know she might have something better to say, They speak softly, gently and in words that show that they are not scared Of the power she has when she breaks free from the grip of his chains,