Category Archives: Society

Where I touch different aspects of society that don’t fit into the main categories

Lip Service

You keep kissing me in front of all these people
Expecting me to fall in love with you.
We seem to meet before the party, then it’s hard to get in touch with you.
I died for more than double you.
Hold this L
If it’s not too much trouble how about a… hello?
Public displays of affection, rarely a conversation.
You pull up a pew and rearrange the table.
Snack with me and regurgitate it.
Why? Why take the plate if you’re not hungry?
Why tell me you love me in public?
You barely shake my hand or hug me.
You immerse in my water and refuse to plug me.
If our lips must combine like oxygen and hydrogen, why aren’t we more than friends?
Am I the luxury meat at your barbecue?
The pumice stone to your ego?
If I’m the cross road you take in a blue moon in spite of your better route
If to yourself you’re being true, this arrangement is shaky.
Sometimes I hate it.
Our snap chat, I’ll take it over an Amen on Facebook.
I might be on your speed dial for the sake of it,
It is your heart I’m truly taken with.
You are worth the chase and…although you say….
I do… without the declaration.
Some folk forsake marriage for a lifetime of dating.
The choice is yours, is this a love worth embracing?

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Filed under Faith, Random Poetics, Relationships, Society

2/30 – Penny on the pavement

Too busy sipping tea to smell the roses.
Pockets full of pansies, posers
Too busy seeing red to be a Moses.
Ignoring the driftwood while singing Oceans.
Too busy, too focused to be open.
Neglect a catalyst of foreclosure.
Drowning, Emotion, Head up, No One. Head shot, Implosion,
Rest in peace? We don’t know that.

Nice memories, for sure, yeah.
Too busy being me to notice
That’s what it’ll be til it’s over, til it’s over
It is far from over….

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Filed under 30 day challenge, Society

Fever

Straight laces and jazz faces

The jack boot to the face to the pavement

Just another one erased

Binary bindings say war is thicker than blood

Sharks in hoods can’t clear their cache

Crop wasted like the Qur’an on hardened atheists

Yet blacks bear cross movements with little hope of resurrection

Minstrel mazes and court cases

Sour notes swish poor paintings

Beaten paths falling like gay pastors

Recorded on tape yet don’t own the masters

Chicanery air dropped

Drones divert and dividing clasps faster

What change did you expect on capital?

Hell we shall overcome

Soundtrack to crumbling paths

What’s a non-believers call to prayer?

Guerilla jungle fever or corporate chess

Guess they’re gonna tool those left

Circular arguments square rooted

Another mother weeps

Candles melt into vigilante passions

General lies and federal eyes stare down the truth

Demons fear Jesus not bullets

What’s a blind man to compass?

Rebellion or just is

Unrequited love leaves tortured souls

Hashtag justice

Dramatic excuse for a tragedy

They don’t know what lame is

Warmongers avoid life support

Turntablist journalists

Tear gas terms of endearment

Smokeholds, choking given as hand rearing

Comply or die?

Comply or die!

Old jokes breathe new headstones

Murals of mockery manifested

No indictment from dim bulbs

Manufactured entrapment

Circus clowns got us fox hunting

Peace is a contestant bestowed on ex factors

Agents of shield marvel

Brothers gaming sisters instead of the master system

Laws raped by police force

Unmasked resistance

Protests anonymous

Do the right thing, going viral or posthumous

We shall overcome sounds monotonous

Malcolm, Christ, Luther

Which Martin will you be plotted to

Who wants justice?

Who wants justice?

Just us?

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Filed under Race, Relationships, Society

Just Cause

It seems blues brothers love to give the youth a shot

Star bucks and donuts will get them back on the clock

Hard hearts too cold to let the jailhouse rock

With so many stories landing I’m losing the plot

Are the killings indiscriminate?

Are we born Criminals?

Are they shopping with body bags?

Are we looking for excuses?

It seems order pickers are easily recruited

I guess bullets are quicker than nooses

With the mixed fruits this con fuses

I guess bullets are best for a nuisance

Are facts always what truth is?

Some we live and let die while others say prove it

Were Eric Garner and Mike Brown, rotten fruit picked?

Like tunnel vision to a Cyclops, what WE feel is lucid

Then again….who’s WE?

Justice or Retribution?

If the news is the Bible and every tweet or status revelations

Should we consider what makes us demons or angels?

If you were the shooter, the thief or the rapist, have you got a right to rehabilitation?

Is justice what we live for or is retribution too fascinating?

If you were the shooter, thief or rapist,

Does a served conviction demand social castration?

Who should decide where you will pose danger?

Will your past be the past or an indelible stain?

Can you ever prove you’ve changed?

If forgiveness is a choice and nobody is perfect, how do we decide those that are worth it?

If the public eye is the product our passion or profession has gained in earnest

Are we now God’s among men?

Is raising the nation now our reasonable service?

Is the freedom to fall, freedom to make abominable life choices not human?

Since we’re all executioners before we’re the judge and the jury, what is the solution?

Justice or retribution?

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Blues on The Piste

Five years

Time served

Pining for her

10 months

Collapsed lungs

Lost love

You’ll never bring them back

No four warning

Dumb, dumb

Forever ever

Numb

Co-ordinate

Pack the case

On four tune out

You’ll never bring them back

History doesn’t think twice

No Sleep in the house of rest

Wrestling the lull of bye

Secrets open as I closes

You’ll never bring them back

History and legacy

Now the Old Testament

Like sold memorabilia

You’ll never bring them back

You’ll never bring them back

You’ll never bring them back

You’ll never bring them back

You’ll never bring her back

You used to have it all ……but now

Silence is murder

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Paper Thin Walls

paper thin walls
Paper thin walls
They keep mixing colours
Blending her out
On those paper thin walls
Paper can’t cover the cracks
On those paper thin walls
A doodle draws a whimper
The thought of making murals musters mournful murmurs from those paper thin walls

Passed around like a guest book at a funeral
The feeling fading as they drive away
The whitewash isn’t cleansing
A broken slate is never wiped clean
She is only 15
Miss Paper Thin Walls

Laying bricks, roofless
All her rocks are demons dancing in the sea of safety
Her will shredded like leaked script pages
She’s an over plucked daisy
On her knees she a dress maker seeking out hope like a lost sequin
Wondering where was God when man destroyed the self she’d believed in

Miss Paper Thin Walls pores over scattered bricks
From the many times her box has been ticked she’s an exam in herself
Exiled from affection, ignoring the laws of attraction.
Hands that reach her are fractured to heal her scars
When she’s fully built she may be chasing cars
For now…..she’s in thrall to the casket of cat calls
These travails are an ailment of which no ointment can heal
When she’s fully built she’ll bruise the serpent’s head and heal
She’ll no longer be Miss Paper Thin Walls

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Off The Radio

image

Out of fear of a black planet I was born. A public enemy,  nonchalant with akademiks, my pen is de la soul, common sense is my Guru.
I sample more than the breaks so I can mend hearts.
See an Epiphany is little more than a Grandmaster Flash but folk are too busy posing for the camera to get The Message.
I mean  MC’s act like they don’t know that the slackness will gets them tainted love.
I wonder when the definition of an Outkast became critical thinker.
See when knowledge reigns supreme and understanding is the queen, black and white kids will have to stop using the word n****.
For now, we try to Regulate our own 36 chambers.
It’s that New World water that infiltrates our Respiration.
Like a Foreign Exchange we sample safety to lose privacy.
Everyone thinks they can play till they enter the I.V. League where group thought is imperial and devils advocate is a life title.
Civil rights left so I speak to Gutter Rainbows about the Beautiful Struggle and find solace in the Atmosphere of Eyedeas and providence.
No more a prisoner of conscious, the abstract is made clear.

I am hip hop but it’s only scratch n’ rap you want to hear.

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Filed under Society