Cloud Control


I thought I could handle it.
This is my 99 final
I’m writing a manuscript.
I’m a royal male
Stamping my authority on the situation enveloping.
I hit the post, and caught a P45 for arrested development
Had to face the music but couldn’t sell a tape.
Feeling 21 again except
I’ve gained a lot of responsibilities and different education.
Job applications, eat n sleep them , play station.
Go to church, be grateful, remix, repeat, template it.
Don’t leave the screen, or time waste.
Just, keep your head up and eyes straight.
What’s patience when you’re gaining weight?
Wait on God for your phone call, an interview.
They say, a head on your shoulders is a stage for greatness.
The inner you, is pained but heal and grow bro.
I’m left wondering how the gravy train became an engine less stage coach.

I thought I could handle it.
First in last out, I thought I’d get the hang of it.
That’s the way I planned for things.
To be, shunted, that’s the manure script.
No more banter filled, days that raise you from the grave workload your facing.
No secret santas, random nights out or days to stuff your face with
Sugar laced platitudes are crack when you need a fix.
Unkempt nuns aren’t the only ones with bad habits.
Things fall apart when you’re barely playing a part.
Would wisdom have seen my false start?
I thought I could handle it

Name changed from Adrian to bastion.
An analyst in a battalion banking on being valiant.
The canon changed so much I was a candidate for valium.
Alarm bells were haranguing me.
Ropes disguised as ribbons were asking to hang with me.
I saw through the eyes of the needle.
That year I’d, had more hits than Ed Sheeran.
More scars than Killmonger.
Some firsts were longer and the endings sweeter.
As the facts started to pan, hopes started to Peter.
Blip, blip, blip, bleeeep

Now my last wage has to stay past my birthday.
That’s months away and there’s bills to pay.
Everyone’s a sage and their advice is playing on one of 5 multiplex screens.
I’m praying I’m not brought to my knees.
Telling myself I’m a man, I’ve got to handle this
Don’t prolong the shame on your family.
You’re not penniless with Jesus sandals begging in the city centre (Hanley) yet.
You’re not a father so it could be a lot harder.
Yes, darkness smothers the brightest of days.
Create your own karma.
Replace that window pain with thankfulness.
Let your actions anchor it.
Be a man in this

I am not my father, I am more than his son.
I can’t wait to announce that Karmas pregnant because I’ve overcome.
Until then I shall feed my vision with knowing the mission is cooperative.
The new world I desire will take more than thoughts and prayers to populate.
Because I am built to handle it.


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Filed under Random Poetics

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