morning dews of Mother Nature’s trinkets of seduction.
Having made love to the night,
she lures the light —
a brunch of uncertainty she serves
with a smile.
alchemists by the street corner baking bread.
Molding wheat into a trinity of philosophy
and cubes that symbolize the squared blocks:
writer’s blocks where beat-downs love cock syrup
and wannabes beat-box snares of rap.
The fundamentals of fanning the mentality of their fans,
So as to be-come,
toothless dogs flossing.
(Niggers with nickels are niggles!)
Time is not a belt – I don’t waste it.
I channel it like a shaman’s flute
to the mantra of self-love.
I thus uncoil the serpent within.
I starve from oxytocin hunger games
so I feed the craving.
Revenge has a new dish called
an eye for an ohm.
I am a child of imagination:
my story is told in cemetery Hip-hop bars
and cocaine metaphors.
A child of the 7th ray,
I kneel on the sun.
Quartz bonds and lay lines lining my soul to the ether.
Palms reading my heart, I expand
my solar self,
my inner sun.
I want to aura every corner of the earth through my soul explorations
But these static third dimension reflections
Kill my spirit like shooting pilgrims at Mecca
Hymning at the foot of avatar’s bleeding toes
I kiss and hug my soul
Beckoning flowers and mocking rainbows
Life is beautiful in her withered petals
Amidst nightly hazes and violet rays
Chains for change
Fluoride on my muse
Contemplate nirvana like an end-month knock
In the project blocks
Stuck in the zone – lost soul roaming in tamed lethargies
Decoding the amnesia of me clipping immortal wings
To be merely human
And writhe among the mortals
Picture me levitating in purple wings
And platinum halo
And becoming a song on the lips of god:
P’tah-TA Um a Ah-ShA’-Lum
Thah-A’-Jha in’ta DO A”
Um Sha’-DI UR’-A ah Khum’ Tun