There are moments when you wonder
What’s going on with me?
When it seems that the world is moving in a direction and though movement and change don’t phase you, how you feel about it does.
Where your reflections become memories of happiness never created.
When the idea of building anew seems better than improving what you have.
Why have a tattoo when you can use biro and pencil.
When the music that once made you euphoric now stiffens you in purgatorial placidity.
If what is wrong with me, is me, what can I do?
Do my eyes fail?
Is the clearest figment of my vision that I’m shortsighted?
What would I throw away to gain?
Is this the me that got away or am I living to tell tales?
Is my colour of love beyond the pale?
If desire is a palindrome, do I really love my reflection on love?
If love is really selfless do I lose image to gain an identity?
Apprehensively, two halves don’t make a whole but there are holes in where it starts and ends with me.
If love is a learning contract that allows you to amend terms.
Why do many burn with many degrees?
If purpose, humility, desire are the PhD, is love lost if “I” is missing?
Isn’t love the ultimate hunter?
There are times when we respond I’d love to.
IS that selfless or selfish?
Can I love live among a barrel of shellfish?
If love is so strong, is it our resistance to it that leaves us dented?
There are times when your heart is crossing a bridge suspended between where you are and where you’re meant to be.
Every step you take pensively towards this unconditional until you’re un-conditioned
To be one conditioned is a choice that I struggle with.
That’s why I’m sharing me, with you.
Tag Archives: Angst
There are moments when you wonder
Some truths are arresting but their freedom you can rest in
Some truths are homely when they don’t try to redecorate
Some truths are seedlings that sap you of your better state
I wish these truths were feather weight and would lift before I sign that paper
Truths that wrap round my hands like tape before a fight
Truths that change bulbs,
Truths that win matches
Truths that broken into meteoric starlight are my cookie that crumbles
Truths that are more beautiful than a Titanic Kate Winslet
Truths that are more than an engagement ring and make you alter
Truths that don’t slide around
Truths you can fall for, get up with and fall in love with again and again
Truths that make good friends
Truths that don’t break you to see if you can bend
Truths that don’t hide in drawers like old photos
Truths that in need, you can go to
Truths that get more agreement than Kyoto
Truths that make the magna carta look like a pinky promise
Truths with more meat than a 20 stone double J in a bodice
Truths with more between the eyes than a pair of nostrils
Truths in lossless formats that will never get played
Truths that are more than a night boo debut.
Truths that might silence you but wont shoot you down with a silencer
See these Home truths I keep dying for
Truth lives outside the law
Truth is the secret in the bible section
Truth is the power of inception that rewires a lie detector
Truth is my reflection when I choose to accept it and until then
Truth is an orphan
Truth can dance with you or around you.
Truth is not a tradition
If truth was religious it would be narcissus
I want truth that keeps you in check like King Midas face to face with Medusa
Truth whose screams in eternity ring and are happily answered too
Maybe that kind of truth isn’t you
See maybe truth is convenient, may be it’s seasonal
Maybe it’s roots ,branches and leaves that are watered by wars
Maybe we need lies to appease us until we find the peace that is us
A peace that pleases us in all pores and makes us richer
Maybe truth is greedy, maybe truth is grievous
Maybe to be truth is to find that we need to be us,
To be us, we need to see us
So maybe what we need is, not peace but reflection
A reflection that yields acceptance for its perfect imperfections
A voice that sets the tone with multiple inflections.
If truth is knowledge accepted and we render rejection can truth be changed at all?
If truth is changeable is this the deposition before urination?
Revolving doors wont get to seven when you’re in eight
So maybe this is the position before you’re in a shine
Giving evidence, overthrowing negatives
The truth is the truth is the picture, it’s us that aren’t getting it
The truth is that truth is an industry worth investing in.
I heard that truth is sexier than Norah Jones in silky pyjamas on a Q-Tip record
Ttruth has a cost and as words are expensive….
What are yours worth?
I’m so happy its getting hard to get angry
This emotion isn’t under me, but you’ve got to understand me
The mind is a garden and with the pen I’m a little handy
Yet I’m in the purgatory of this penmanship, a fly guy on happy landing
This rose bed has some thorns that I’m sure one day will crown me
In this diary of a late bloomer I’m not a slave to my roots but I’m grounded
See though I want to be down with a crew that love haters and hate “fakers”
I’m feeling too logical to be creative.
I’d have to saw off my shotgun though it’s in need of maintenance
I might spit some fire, maybe a pond or a whole lake of it
Drop science, create soap, eat a whole cake of it
Yet deep down I’d be the faker just for the sake of it
Maybe this season I’ve a reason to a take a break to make a break.
View the pasture and start landscaping it.
Where art becomes business I need my logic to feel creative
You can be antique or antiquated, glib or venerated
Despite a thunderstom of grief, this rainbow is so insatiable
I’m karma collecting calmness with my carpal, ainimating intimations
I found my mind to be the limit, now I’m a moonraker
A klondike of idyllic nature, standing like the Durj Khalifa
I’ve anaesthetised anathema so now I’m a designer without a model
An atheist made a zealot for the throne she’s the queen of
They say I’m hooked on a feeling that I deeply believe in
My hearts been given to the best bidder without a need for stealing
I want to penetrate every layer of what makes her appealing
If the bait was being myself then I wasn’t very hard to reel in.
So transparent yet so strong I could call it glass sealing.
Arrest by unconditional love is what I call state policing
He’s the light and she’s prism on which my rainbow is feeding
Tower of babel we ain’t, yet I meditate until my soul makes a seizure
For what we ought to be is not revealed yet
We are tighter than ribbons of titanium, allied to the alloy of a name that cannot be bettered
Still I shake like prisoners on hunger strike when the appetite of my pen isn’t whetted
Am I greedy?
See, I’ve lived in rivers writing riotous rhymes like lions climbing gazelle mountains
Yet abundant abounding sirens beat my ear drums like hooks to the face from father time
That she is sweetly singing to my soul like crystals catching the winds of Pentecost
I was lost to my foundation with a heart full of stone.
We clicked and I was thrown
Yet it seems I’m right at the start of a poem with no end anticipated
I got blinded looking at the son now I believe in germination
Loving our love defying logic cos finding her was inspiration at best
Time is the oxygen we allow our bleeding to breathe in
So I embrace the pain of another to prepare them for healing
When cut to the core with energy re ceded
Fruits of laboured pain I eat in exchange for the favour of grace
Salvation from the sins of the past that maim the present
Derailing the tensions that prevail as the lessons that only seek to lessen
So knowing the power to impeach and set precedents needs more than rhetorical tenements delivered with eloquence
I say listen to the memories given reverence and residence in your edifice
Evict your fear of change like a rent dodging resident, without sentiment
Embrace hope like a new pregnancy in spite of miscarrying triplets
You can only drink what you allow to flow through your inlet
(And) If not filtered you falter, your gaze on destiny alters
Until you’re feeling forced to drive on the wheels of misfortune
Floundering in the forest of the forlon, war torn by the dim light
(Yet) my in sight drinks from glasses doubled in clarity.
So every head shot is a meteoric light telling dystopia not to marry me
Utopia is a pharisee until we conclude lamentations
Hesitation is not self preservation until But They, is deleted from our recitation
For convenient flagellation conceals contamination
Some who say time is a healer refuse to watch what they’re saying
With the mind they’re paying, as games they’re playing
Life’s not a lottery. it’s just a wall for painting
Pain may be your undercoat so decorate with your celebration
The why and how wont add up so detonate your decimation
Replace your But They’s with For I,
Forgiveness, for love, for health for strength
I embrace pain like a bad disciple.
Betraying it with the priceless knowledge that it is no love rival.
To be made wise with experience means pain is a chapter in your bible
That many misinterpret and create a religion like disaster was their idol
You’re a lamb to the slaughter if you buy bull
Death precedents canot give life to your revival
Stealing time to cry is not a crime if you value freedom through peace of mind at all.
So open your chamber of secrets and empty your back full of knives
Knowing your scars are part of the painting
Don’t dam the flow claiming your assets will be liquidated
I say embrace pain like a trigger and squeeze it until the ammunition is asphixiated
From soul to soul I hope to mitigate your evanesence
Embracing your pain and killing it, to make you great through resurrection
See the politics of living dictate survival’s a general election
Some histories we repeat because we wont scatch the record
We’d rather dance to our beatings till we’re prey without ceasing
Ignoring the truth that our spirits fruits bare in season
I call it a faith crime when we pray without seizing
When taking chances to count our blessings, to the creator is pleasing
You can only claim the blessing of an heir if you’re breathing
Need feeding? Believe him!
Life words like seeds from the other trees in Eden,
Will you not eat them or will you ask… What would heathens do?
A question rarely tended, if ever thought of.
We drink the lies of many authors like they were last orders.
Picturing Jesus drowning his sorrows with a glass full of water
Instead of walking through the tempest like Kate’s pen game was his daughter
Ignoring the needs of our heart, doing what folk think we ought to
Being heady and high minded will not make you highly thought of.
Your embrace of pain can turn a sniper to sawn off
So make a decision before you tell me your story
If it’s gory to gory and you’re the bullet of this one shot
Do you know your tools can enrich the plot
Your intimacy can harvest the better ending
So are you a gardener preparing for new seasons
Or are you just pre tending
With your embrace
My umi says Shine your light on the world……
They made us hate our self and love their wealth
Shine your light for the world to see…….
Dear Madam Noire I want to be a world star
Hip Hop Hip Hop
We made us hate ourselves
Now we’re in rude health
It hits hard, hits hard
Divide by stealth
Now we gotta freeze hell
Big drop, Pit Stop,
Do you know who hates black people?
In spite of a rich history we broadcast our misery
Our position be flippancy
If nobody knows the program why should folk love our frequency?
Instead of calling each other hoes and pimps why don’t folk play the game secretly
It’s Maybach Music
Never the corporation
So many crabs on the sure are we a cancer nation?
A plantation, with foundation
O#, so sick of sick with it I think I need some sanitation
Seems hate is our salvation
Why do we baptise in lies if we’re only saving face
I lift my hands in Oprah Praise
Afro trendsetters only ever strived to be better
Yet we pray for equality like Eskimos for hot weather
Chicken don’t love eggs fried,
So hot under the collar it’s like your friend with your ex I
Speak life to race questions if we’re going to be winning
So many us and them mindsets we’re scratching records not spinning
Gunning, running and grinning, romancing and sprinting
Lancing the sinning when its really challenging perception
One true definition of blackness? Now that’d be immaculate inception
So mixed up we’re a mixed race with time to hate on the mixed face
Cooking souls like jerk chicken unless their hot on a mix tape,
Barack Obama, black father, white mama, married black so why bother
If he’d married Monica Lewinsky would he still be so honoured?
Why are we still so bothered it’s time I shot the songbird
Your weave comes from east Asia so you ain’t a boss you’re a product
A mollusc talking bollocks who strains for a look
Ain’t nothing worse than a half baked crook
So beat up by blackness I’m a maybe seal
If I love Garvey’s and Heidi Klums does that make me less real
Exercising demons for Jesus to take the wheel
Lets to talk about sex baby
Or I wont know how to feel because lately
All I hear is, it’s ok to like white people
As longs it’s the right people
Yet the way of these Chinese whispers I wonder if it’s ok to like people?
See lately…..I wonder could you be the one’s to save me
And after all ….
I promise to take the knives out my back when I learn to eat with your forked
Can’t we all get along?
Respect one another?
I’m so enlightened I’m like Beyonce
Next album cover
I should of spat into a rubber cos you’d have heard me right?
Prefer to read me wrong
Someone could take me out tonight
Yet see for every open mike a brother’s lost his life
To a brother who got too hyped
Now his baby mother be turning dike
Wonder are the kids alright
Is the flash of a gun to be their only light
My fish for answers yields only tripe and I, I, I
Just can’t stomach it
I hate this function room
A bulb can grow or shine it ain’t just gotta be screwed
Just feed it the right food
Create the right environment
Administer a bit of discipline
Those rough edges will need less ironing
Being us it’s an in-fighting thing
Yet one we share with society is that
It’s scary that parent’s don’t even want to be parents
Rather children make an appearance in county court has new talent
We fed fire, get blackened, our George just lost to the dragon
I crack my egg in your basket stir in the mind of a mad man
Call on the piper of Hamlyn to fight the piper of gangland
Imagine taking some action, eschewing predator fashion
Beating kids at home so teachers don’t have to
It’s time to embrace humanity
Not everything need be coloured black true?
Seems all learn to smile so sweetly while privately hating you.
So being true to myself sometimes feels like pay per view
Tell me who got tha props.
Killing me mockingly
Softly rocking me to sleep
My grave is my cacophony
Marked for the blot of me
Dust to dust, smoke the pot of me
Love me lines, yet there’s no dot of me
Balling is not in me
Touched up by a teachers sexless monotony
manifested as scrotal lobotomy
I moan to find pleasure from the pain
Just Come and make it rain
Ravage my eloquence
like you the were first and only
Tread me into the dirt like you are the sole me
Soon to be the soul me
I will drain away from your reality
screaming through the veins of infamy
evaporating as blood and mucus off the bones of infidelity
A microcosm of invalidity
Sinus waves turned away to a wall of silence
encroaching on that peaceful violence
It is not that I would be death but science
white stripes of blackness without a head stone
A red bone chained to systematic daggers and a fulcrum of politeness
Mullered by mullahs of peace so I in dying I write this
Wondering in the grounds of cirque us,
Pondering paths circa us
Only fools rush in
I would that I be a Sir plus
Like the letter, pimping R to the reality of love
Surplus, emotions rise and fall
Like the oxygen bubbles of fame
My androgynous brain is high on hell water
Fire in my loins simmers like the fuse in a light dimmer
I’m a sinner, scarred within
So I walk on the shells of clouds conversing with God
With dropped guard free will grasped my heart
Leaving me hard
Like the morning apple harvested for cider
Wondering in the orchard of rolling stones and heirs
I can’t pair, us in the cipher
Maybe I have to battle her to write her
Off or on, now or forever,
The right her
I’ve left brain now I’m left stranded
Pondering my motives like an offering to televangelists
There is no sanctuary in the presence of lust
So I worship at the grounds of past pain and future gain
Trading my vices and vultures in the temple of lip service
Getting drunk on roots and culture
Biting my history with molars so I can’t taste the facts
Is this a new chapter or the book of acts?
I want to punch her just to know if she’s the clock
Or just another laboured metaphor ready to miscarry
A fumble who loves a touchdown
When I’d rather Jacobs ladder than lot’s wife
I ponder in the confines of a couplet
Meander through the maze of internal rhyme schemes
What’s my eye seeing?
Like the letter,
Is it the beta coming cos I’m honing the alpha male
Set to test Libra scales of Wordsworth
With her birth being the question
In the grounds of cirque us
Is my reflection surplus
Of course I would that I be a sir plus
And serve us, that grow below the surface
Yet I defer us
Deterred for the detour and burp us because I don’t know how to breathe
I bleed avalanches of mistrust
Cut by the reeds and grapevines
Swallowed fallow securities and ate pride
Ever shaped to hide
I’d say I was a hero in a half shell
Yet I can’t be claim salvation if you ain’t mine
So I wonder