Tag Archives: perception

Boy in the corner

Trade your suit and glasses for sackcloth and ashes

Remain pure to your past self, unmasked and passive

Stay sophomoric and tragic, take slap shots, and don’t panic!

Affray? We’ll wreak havoc, you’ll be a mascot for the moribund

Stay savvy, trade your muses and nuance for fame and famine

Pyramid schemes for your dreams, is it fair?, oh you’ll manage

Imagine what we fashion when we see through your glasses.

Tape your education through conversation then charge you for classes

We’ll rape your souls in the marriage bed and claim it never happened.

So what will it be, your roots or our fruits?

The trenches or the barracks?

Do you believe anything will stick if we hold the field of carrots?

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Filed under Random Poetics

9 / 30 Round & Round

I was born with the race card
According to some inhumans

Black power was never skin colour
Sus laws and Edgar Hoovers
Set the tone for my mother’s mother
My father’s father took the bruises

I was born to a game of measures
I suppose my first words were excuses
The race card I never signed, played for me.
You expect me to thank you?

Doesn’t the devil exist?
Black and white stripes aren’t even half the pack of this race card mess.

Is it really a Race Card?
Or is it a gag, a muffler.
Is the code for silence, when it impinges on comfort?

I was told at aged 7 by a white headmistress,
“Just to be average, you blacks have to work twice as hard”
Damn, I just got stamped and handed my race card!
I should build up some credit.
You’ll only teach the 5% of my history that implies to you I’m indebted.
Then I’ll spend the rest of my life fact checking.

There’s just something about the way they use it to abuse you
Like it’s your first and only line of defence.
Before they learn the N word it’s, Miss…he’s playing the race card again!

Micro chipped, programme to speak on it every other day of the week.
Is the race card simply a construct where the foundations are too deep.

Was I really born with it in my system or was it the system’s cordial
Something they can keep drinking to make me look primordial.

 

 

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Filed under 30 day challenge, Race

8/ 30 More Fire!

How much more love do we really need?

Does it look like more stable marriages and less divorcees?

More faith to find a way though we disagree?

Should there be less tantrums about our wants and needs?

Is it about acceptance instead of accommodation?

Is it a contract without an escape clause .

Is it enjoying the meal in spite of the waiter

How much more love do we really need?

If it truly starts with you and me….

Is self-love a missionaries position?

Is there a bible?

What’s the core values of this religion?

Are the different types of love denominations?

How do we get to more love if some loves seem hateful?

When love shows its face why can’t some fall for it?

Mass produced in many ways, is it cheapened by brand disloyalty?

 

Your love and my love should have some common ground.

When and where can this so called more love be found?

Is it in the 18 years you stayed for the kids

Believed in second chances while refusing to forgive

Refusing to forget and let he or she live

What’s love if you’re going to act like ….well I love you too much to use you as an insult

It is uncaging, reincarnating, composing without imposing

More than doting on your yes men

It’ll give you more exposure than a naturist at a winter clothing convention

Yes!  Full of foibles, fantasies and awe-inspiring flaws

Love is adding a rug, unafraid to be naked when you open the door.

Out of love we go to war and in love, we find peace.

If love makes the world go round, it takes your will just to be.

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Filed under 30 day challenge, Random Poetics

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

Sounds of Blackness

sounds-of-blackness-cover

These are the sounds of blackness

If we stay measured by our grinding we’ll never sharpen up our axis

Scene stealers bring the heat but it seems we lack match practice

Not light on our feats, we’re dancers when we ought to be actors.

We stage plays until we’re lost in scrabble like crabs in a labyrinth

Quoting Lauryn Hill until our X -Factor becomes an ex-factor

Command and conquer has me on red alert with our allies fakin’ basement jax

Hipsters’ hula hoop with hegemony until free style is legalized and we remain blood donors

We say the onus is on us to own us so that we are for us by us

Yet mantras dissolve like sugar cane in coffee cups because nobody wears F.U.B.U

Its heir conditioning

We love a smiley culture, accepting urban as our synonym

Lost in the dark the loan sharks claim all the benefits

We do the mathematics while the denominator plays percentages

The N is friend and nemesis yet the beaten tracks remain pendulums

I’m so stirred by the barge pole to our differences I boil with my pencil tips

I question time while I mastermind stealing money from penitentiaries

There’s no full disclosure why we play Uncle Tom to get Meredith

Bludgeoned by the tomato in the melting pot, our fruits become vegetables.

Insanity is palpable when we become cordial, edible, diluting our primordial forces

3 percent leviathan there’s simply no denying the 97 percent are buying us.

Hoodies and patois mean gangster until the right people license it

I turn off the radio because folk only listen to what the pirates’ ship

Twerking their blurred lines old as the night sky

Don’t be naive as the promise of fidelity during a summer of 69

They may think they’re robbing thick; it’s more like shopping from Be Wise.

Do popular culture aborigines need a rabbit proof fence?

Questions posing for the picture I hate this i-coonography

Boys dancing in their Jordan’s we see no trainers like Michael

Worship at the church of struggle using perception as the bible

We’re making up the numbers

It ain’t fair ground with these Malibu minded

Coconut shy stunters

See though frames display anything, it’s self-love before any man

Soul raw like Tracy Emin giving birth to a tribe of Eminems

I fight for coffee’s place at the table and inhale the war of the roses for water has no enemies

Where choice is a figure of speech undressed by extra capital

We’ve all got across to bear, don’t call me Paddington

Survival tactics like silver back ants in Saharan Africa

Best work in the sun, rest in the shade, upgrade your engine room

I mean there’s no use plucking Garveyisms like the last feathers of a Christmas turkey hoping the message strikes when even the teachers aren’t learning

London’s bridge is burning; I’ve got Fanon, Farrakhan, and Martin Luther to listen to

Living’s a tough job we’ve got to make it out of the inner view

With these, the sounds of blackness.

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Filed under Race