You keep asking “How?”
As if there’s some sort of form or pattern
To self-expression
The truth is that,
Even in spite of your continued defiance of reality
And your inability to live in a world not governed by comfort
You have forgotten how to feel.
The words on the page
Are ill equipped to express
The sentiments like worms
Swimming through my noodle
Digesting my consciousness
Expelling de-composite
“A head nods as if to clear the last image from an Etch-A-Sketch.”
As if to replace it with the image of YAH
“Recite and rewrite dictionary definitions of nothingness with metaphysical significance.”
Consider the significance of the metaphysical
Make use of consciousness beyond subconscious accidents
(un)Conscious impotence
Make use of intent
Take two cents from everyone you meet and retire rich with more to leave for our kids than time and money
Constantly on the rise, yet constantly waning
While faith, hope, and love remain unchanging
Grace and peace flow from (th)a steady stream
While sex, drugs, and CEOs rock out somewhere in between
Life and death molehill peaks
A fly’s lifespan—two whole weeks
Are we any less mortal?
(too wholly weak)
Then let us rest in the eternal
If time is money, let us grow tax free like an IRA
Sleep in the sea, not confined in a grave
Flow with deep oceanic currents
Forget the surface and the waves and the sharks and the babes and the birds of prey
And all else which distracts from:
Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, trustworthiness, humility and self-control
Life’s an Etch-A-Sketch
Yours is one noodle that can be undid
Insanity exists on the extremes of the acceptance of one’s perceived reality. One must always take care to not accept too much or too little.
I find enlightenment through meditation on verbs I spit. Rewrite and recite dictionary definitions of nothingness with metaphysical significance. Quote with the voice of God the prophet’s word and watch reality imitate it. Reclaim my domain trough eminence. Spiritual niggers come against. I spit lyrical mace in their face and brush that devil off my shoulder like he comes in jest. Toss taunts and tests. “Is that your best?” And I won’t rest until Each One Teach One reach some. Truth home come. Youth catch on, latch on, jump the wagon wall and ride on into the future. Dawn of Resurrection Kingdom come.
(What black man doesn’t enjoy frequent meditation on scripture and poetry…and fried chicken?)
So many miles between us. It doesn’t look that far away on the map, but the more I look around, the more I realize that you’re nowhere in sight. How could you be any farther away? If you were here, I wouldn’t hold your hand or stroke your hair or sing you a love song. I would just lay here and think about music. But now, the only music I hear is love songs. Songs about your soft skin. Songs about your soft hair. Your soft lips. Soft touch. Soft…
This bed is so damn hard!
So, I’ve updated to WordPress 2.1…finally. So far, everything seems to be working fine,*** but that could just be because I haven’t looked hard enough. So, if you happen to see any errors or anything that doesn’t seem right, please let me know so that I can find out why it’s wrong and fix it.
***One plugin, the Livejounal Crossposter doesn’t work anymore, and until our man Evan finishes ironing out the issues in it, LJians are just going to have to do without my insane ramblings because I really don’t feel like either hacking the plugin or my WP core or (definitely) actually using LJ.
I’ve been thinking
Meditating, writing, and reading
Winking at YAH
Making promises with my fingers crossed behind my back
As if HE can’t see right through me
I wasn’t lying; I was only kidding
No, I was speaking it into reality
Trying to make what wasn’t be
But while I was speaking for then
Now came
And it wasn’t the same as what I was saying
I swear, I’m not playing
But my excuses are lame
Just like my sense of honor
Limping around from tree to tree
Holding on for balance but falling to its knees
The forest is dark and it can’t see
Because the trunks hold it captive like bars of a jail cell
23 to life alone
Relationships are hell
Eternally tormenting so one can never go home
To true love
She said “I do.”
But I didn’t catch it
I was too busy flipping through magazines
Checking out the breasts on philosopher’s chests
I swear to god, I wasn’t cheating
But adultery comes in many forms
And idol worship is more than porn
I kissed my wife goodnight
Then fucking the night light
786,482 pixles of pure time
I wasted it
Told tHEm I would wake up
Early to make up
But slept through my alarm
What’s the harm of five more minutes?
Two hours later I found out
And I don’t doubt that tHEy think I’m a dead beat
That tHE’re better off without me
But I need tHEm
She and HIM
You and YAH
ELI, I, and Allie May
May I
Redeem myself
Save the day?
As the record turns
360 degrees around
The leaves turn so many degrees of brown
And the trees release
Their most prized possession
The beauty of their branches
Falling ever so slowly down
They are piled and burned
To re-soil the ground
And here we’ll dance ’til midnight
And dance again until tomorrow
When the advent of the sun’s light
Floods our (ball)room
And awakens our sorrow
For underneath your wedding gown
You wear a Kevlar vest
To thwart cupids futile efforts
At postponing the inevitable at best
Hurling 9mm love darts at your chest
To be loved again is a lost cause
Maybe the world was better before video games.
Before Quake, unreal, and CSS
Before Team Deathmatch and CTF
Before BFGs and floating Kevlar vests
Before aim for the head but start at the chest
Before a trip to Japan was a geek’s wet dream
Screaming frag me if you can
Keyboard and mouse in hand
Yes, it would seem, maybe the world was better before video games
Maybe the world was better before hip hop
Before DJ Scott and T La Rock
Before Snoop and Jay-Z
Before Emenem and 50
Before Tupac and Biggy
Before bitches ain’t shit and the magic stick
Nigga catch a clip
If he act up when I spit
Phat rhymes on the MIC
It seems, the world was better before hip hop.
Maybe the world was better before TV
Before life was reduced to mere scenes
Before clowns and mimes made us scream
Before cunt, coke, and colt own the silver screen
Before Q decided humans are simple machines
Before the daily news crushed all our dreams
And taught us how to lose retaining no dignity
It sure does seem that the world was better before TV
Maybe the world was better before human beings
Before we screwed up everything
Before packaged beef
Before SUVs
Before drag queens
Before high rise apartments suites
Surely the earth got along just fine without you and me
So I’d say the world was better off without human beings.
Or maybe the world’s been fucked since Adam and Eve
Since they ate the fruit of the forbidden tree
Since Cain killed Able and fled the scene
Since Sodom and Gomorrah raped strangers in the street
Since the prophets of Ba’al failed to make ends meet
Until the Son of YAH was hung on a tree
To give hope to those who still believe
The world will never be what it used to be.