Tag Archives: night

The Journey (52/ 2)

With one hand I can count my roots.
What have I left? Who is right?
It seems day’s dressed as night
Isn’t the sun meant to be, The Christ?
Like an atheist crusade in Saudia Arabia, a cloud switched off the light
Where am I going?

If every paths been beaten, by walking them, am I adding to the torture?
These taut virtues taste like battery acid
It burns to speak in tongues in the temple of my thoughts.
So I make melodies from metatarsals and meditations
Striding alongside the reservoir of motivations
I bear my cross along side man made war
To weigh stone cold silences mistaken for peace
My ears swallow to make a sum of my failures
Where am I going?

From the mourning comes englightening
If hades is broad statements, paradise seems narrow minded
I drink the colours from the sky and define me.
Is it called insight when you’re blinded?
I know, If I turn left, I’ll find right again,
I know I’ll find my fight just when I write without aversion
Without purpose, two feats don’t make a legend
It says walk with me

Sure as some steps forward feel like blessings full of curses
Perseverance is more than a purse of verses
Sometimes I want to turn every cyclist into the Icarus of the Trent and Mersey
Disperse them to permanent immersion with a note that says, Today you received mercy
Yet smiles and saluations from strangers dispense these urges
The grass is only greener when my circuits start e-merging
Although I stumble dividing colour because this trip it seems so purple
I AM Going
To work

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Filed under 52 Week Challenge

Million Ways

Million Ways:

(Me)

Fighting on inches when moments would suffice
Head lies crawl through the epidermis
The sperm is energized like electrons
Neutrons spin in frenzied atomic glee
Singing I wish I could be free like the Legend of the John
Pimped out by spinning pulsars watching orderly stars exist
Why dost normality persist when fantasy is evolution
Champagne supernova is the solution
Get drunk on revolution
See banality is pollution yet everybody acts clean
Out of vented spleen windows are cleaned
They say you gotta die to live and I’m a suicide fiend
A homicidal maniac, a sniper of actuality
Breaking souls with a sentence, killing them with logical sanity
Remixing their incarnations with intonations of moon.
Saying there’s a million ways to die but I’d rather make the vultures swoon….
For Me

(Jodi)

I play hooky from he that is death
Outta breath
Living life in more seconds than time allows
Never picked the short stick,
But fate got a case of hate and I continue to raise my brow
Wonderin what he up to now
Attacks are coming
When, where, why and how
Knife stabs and low jabs
Swollen face for tryin ta face em…
Head on
So I headed on
Unconsciously warned
Scorned
For thinking I controlled life just cause I was born
Torn
Between the plots he plans
Tryin to get a grip
But he has a full house
So I gotta fold in my hand
Tryin to find an angle
But he 180’d my 90
Supa fast like whip lash
Premonitions thrown out with the trash
And he straightened out my hindsight and blinded out my future so I couldn’t see
Leavin me empty
Reached in my stash
Tried to pay death off but he wanted souls not cash
There’s a million ways to die…
I wish he’d just choose one…

(Me)

I stabbed her with visions of my past pain till she sang soprano
The modals of her yodels burst my banks
Blood money was the currency of thanks for her mirror
Jagged souls sang as they passed port to the fast lane
Concorde to the last gain, last cause, jungle wars
Stalking perception with no pause
Animal instincts on all fours I was used to wound licking
She said there’s a million ways to cook chicken
8 bullet barrels in a pistol with one trigger
6 letters make a nigger
Yet he needs four to live as she reached out in the dark
Saying I am Wrigley Field, I am Fenway Park
Step up to the home plate you can feed your flame in the dark
For even bats can see play or be played off the park
Her eyes pierced like a shot in the dark
All I heard was the swish before she swayed in an arc
She died giving rebirth to me
To love myself was her last respect

(Jodi)

Respect paid
Body laid
With a million ways he chose to torture me
Net caught my life before he set me free
Now I have nuttin left but respect for thee
Embracing the elevated view of the scene before me
He was the owner of a life that made living weak
Pain’d by those who’d never “circle and inner Y”…Pump peace
His hunger for death led an attention craving frenzy
Embodied John Gotti
Mafia controlled following bodies
Held the hand of the clan
Whispered a little hate and reeled ’em in
Train derailed music and gangs
Started an epidemic that’s killin men and can’t be contained
His gift is quite precise
Slashing unity with rigged dice
Political gambles and fights over raising oil’s price
With the world in his hand
He plucks away a few each day
You can choose the trick
Cause he’ll treat ya a million ways…
Choose One!

Adrian “Poetic7” McKenzie/Joanna OrJustplain Jodi Collaboration © 2011 All Rights Reserved

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The Truth

A booty call cause I don’t want to walk in your shoes

I’ll give you that funk for a night and call it mo’ better blues

Ignoring your messages is the message I’ll choose

My body needed inspiration and you were my muse

Don’t want you at my roots or to expose my ruse

This is my path for the moment you can rue my rues

I’m not cold but you can feel my flues, enjoy some hot weather

Turn a good person into booty call cause I can’t name my treasure

Spin you that hot line feed you with some hot lying

You loved how it was….ok fine

Your presence is all I needed not your soul and mind

Thought it was more grow up and stop cryin’

It was like ecstasy in Zion yet you’ve got leave the mount some time

Unless I have a Damascus experience and call you my sunshine

Till then if you want to make more music you’ll have to find a booth

See I lied to you when I said you were the truth

You took it as the truth but now I’ve had you, I don’t want you like that

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Diary

7 December 2009

He cut a disconsolate figure, proud black felt like a silhouette,

He’d once stood like a minaret, dressed minds like vinaigrette, yet he got tossed like salad and got smoked like a cigarette

Everybody called him Nicorette, his hope came and stayed in patches

He never lost his fire to inspire, in spite of job matches that didn’t see him as a catch

His

Mind never dropped the ball

Head was a whirlpool of hard falls, and big walls

Glass ceilings and doors, familial wars and sores from the pores opened up through feelings of being poor.

December 8, 2009

Felt like every time he tried to work the magic his electricity attracted energies that made him static not ecstatic

He wanted to be ex static using his laboured fruits to gain current, stay current, never need to be a feign lover, always a main lover, man you had love for

Big Brother, future husband, the brightened son that eclipsed the moon and made her beautiful

Inside he stayed truthful like the ocean knowing she will never be a dry mass

He took another class to be class, never cut class as while steadily defining his shape

He was blooming late photosynthesis took place at sunset,

The power of his flower was not enough he needed a run & gun threat

Less heart more head, of logic he was the balanced vet in the game

Politics was a sweet science like boxing yet he fought at range

His jabs hit veins but rarely drew blood,

He was an artist that couldn’t always harness his true love

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Filed under Just Living