Tag Archives: respect

Ivory Blues

holding on

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.

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Filed under Relationships

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

Prismatic Whispers

Prism

I am a prism
Light shines through me
No longer imprisoned
My feet are shod with vision
I am in sight of my destiny
Insight is blessing me
Your power invested is for my profit
Pure and refreshing your energy levitates
Mountains become plains when I see your face
I must get dirty walking in faith
I am love by association
No man is an island so I adopt your nature as native
New chapters are better without pages
Seasons are phases yet I am not phased
I am a prism, a new town, a conurbation
I am a congregation of fruit picked for now
I am the wow
The wonder of will power
Built with a power that cannot be tamed
I am the feature on display
Stories of past pains only curate my path
I am a memory built to last
My heart beats shock waves across my world
Love called me home so as a dove I returned
I am the ark of a covenant between your will and my reflection
My present is an inception that will stand without exception
So I bow in reverence
This inflection is what my self acceptance is meant to be
A testimony of how I live as me
This is my benediction, my prologue to eternity
I burn, I learn, I am the scent of eucalyptus
I breathe, I receive, I am the heir that never recedes
I am me
I am me
I shine from inside
I am

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Filed under Just Living

That clearing i…

That clearing in your life, that light at the end of the tunnel, is not your home. It is no more than a hotel bed after a long journey. Know when to move on or you will be moved on. Life gives you choices not excuses so lust after wisdom and love yourself better.

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January 19, 2013 · 11:15 pm

New Year New You?

The clock has ticked and we’re now two weeks into 2013. Some people make resolutions, promises
to all and sundry as to what they are going to do differently. As is commonly said, most of that goes
out of the window the moment that life starts to take shape. Would we be better off not making
promises or exclamations? What does new year / fresh start mean to you?

My one and only promise to myself is that I will water and nuture the seeds I had planted last year.
Sometimes we know what we’d like to happen in advance, sometimes we leave it and hope for the best.
If anything, it is most important to be comfortable with the season of life that you are in

It is not about the sweeping changes that you can immediately create or accumulate. It is about how you’re
going to keep going even when you are happy with your curent state of affairs. As a baby when its born,
adapts to its new environment and communicates in the only way it knows how. We must “give birth” to
newness be prepared to adapt/ nurture that through the seasons.

If we truly believe in fresh starts regardless of the time of year then it is for us to lay to rest the stigma
of our bad experiences. Unshackle ourselves from fear and doubt. Ultimately bury the chapter of pain and
never dig up its grave. Accept that season of nothingness as a season of rest. Cling to those things that
make us smile naturally. You don’t need to wake up singing the soundtrack from “Thesound of music”.
Bring yourself to a place of being thankful that somebody, somewhere, was looking out for your suffering to stop.
Accept the light that’s trying to shine in your life.That first minute always seems blinding until you see
something beautiful in the light. Let that first beautiful thing you see, be you!

 

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Filed under Just Living, Non Poetic Blogs

You didn’t know

Have you ever been picked at
Like Prince, Hendrix and Santana fighting for the best solo at the same time on the same guitar
Have you ever been kicked around the park because you couldn’t see in the dark
Pinched every time you flinched because one finger held a fork wrong
Been stabbed by a forked tongue,
Bruised like fallen apples though you’d barely been a seed
Have you ever started to bleed so much your heart screamed in silence
Caressed by looks of violence
Wisdom deemed disrespectful to age
Pulped in a bloody rage because manhood was not a life stage and
Now they choose to perform….on you
Travails dismissed like the truth in a court of kangaroos and Joeys
but
Nobody wants to know how you doin
Cold shoulders 360 below zero only warm to being a hero if like a fish
You are battered
Warmed to proving that the only demands that matter aren’t yours
When all you remember is the pause while you got played
Have you ever faced war on your best earth for not being the right gradient
For achieving Palladium not platinum and for them its embarrassing
Have you ever
Ever been made to work now and play later because it will pay later
Only to end up in debt to time
Spending all your life on the grind and rarely flowering
Showered in towering cynicisms because even when its not a sin it, just isn’t
Good enough
Find yourself good at stuff but you ain’t rough and tumble enough
Too humble, too nice, you help folk walk
Youo stumble through sacrifice to sacrifice and all they do is
Ink a black mark over a bad start
Nobody holds a ladder or a door you look to the river for help
All you see are black stars
Have you ever,
Been picked at like a vulture and an eagle fighting for antelope
Only to find with your best qualities folk elope into the distance
Like all your time and persistence and divine given visions were stolen
And all those principles they told you never to break were broken
by those who broke you and built you to know them
Have you ever
Had to provide a tour through a city of many gates and turns
Where road burns and cuts gave way to the if’s and buts yet still
You found a way to feel until the moment they got real and left
Have you never
Wanted attention despite being nurtured ot be pensive
That when you cry danger folk call you defensive or overly sensitive before they
choke you
I don’t know if they told you that I have
I don’t know if you know how if feels to be the last one earth in an overcrowded citadel
I don’t know if you will ever know like I do but now
You know me well

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Filed under Just Living

Acquainting The Bustle

She is the kind of girl to flash you and walk away
A tease
The kind that sit on the corner of your memory
Persistent , she won’t go away
She comes back in the weird places
Similar napkins ,she jotted her number on
The alcohol store you pass on the way home
That reminder
3 a.m. ten flights of stairs
She fell down
Bleeding in the backseat of the car
As she repeated that drunk girl mantra
I am just an ugly soul
Homicidal death threats to herself
You sit there wondering how
This beautiful flower has so many thorns
As her soul shreds you to pieces
Your only release is
That sad jazz melody
Playing over and over
Drowning out her memory
Her voice
You sink into your bed
Hug the loneliness
Yet her scent is in the air

I hung
Heart bigger than how
I’m hung,
Sniggers like nuts in snickers
Get under my skin and clutch triggers
You are all I need
Worth more than all I have
Less than perfect is the perfect I want
Yet you set your camps intents
Intense like maroon dessert sands
Your mantra is no more tantric
Than rancid Kcufing with your mind
My blood curdles like milk because I’ve been burned by the cow
Get off the steps of my memory and marry me
I’ll soak up your blood with my ivory and call it the path to never forgetting

This is a crime of passion that I’m aiding and abetting
Walk with me now, I’ll hug your loneliness
We can be the ish
Make me your only mess
Yes you are the girl who is prone to tease
But I am your cross and Yogi wont bare me

Impregnate me with your sins and I will bare them all

Pews made of cotton sheets

I genuflect

As I confess

I still need him

I need him to be more then a few faded memories

As I clutch to whiskey bottle

Screams bouncing off walls not in ecstasy

Silent hymns

More mourning then hallelujah’s

I feel the distance

More then your warmth

My walls may keep me secure

Yet the door can be opened

For the right price

How much are you willing to offer your heart back

When I already have it in my firm grasp

I am not the queen of hearts

Just good at breaking them

Yet i am also good at taking them

She said a diva is a female version of a hustler
In the worlds oldest profession who can really rustle her?
She be, on her grind, grinding, make up to wake up
How do you spell binding….P.I.M..P
Got the goods for take up.
Spread her rug for sale in minute or hourly turns
As she digs in her nails, ain’t only his pocket that burns
Make music and clap to it,
Half what he earns
How many halves make a whole girl?
Just the ones taking his sperms
She’s on her grind because a diva is a female version of a hustler

Crack for her crack because the rough stuff hurts
All she wants is a lover man not a brother from the corner
He got a nose for the cooking and only wants to put it on her
Big Black, China white, Charlie and Daddy
Bruises for excuse why she wouldn’t bareback gladly
She will happily bivouac, he just wants to beaver wack.
Till she met You yet you’re too nice to be with that
She has a history, a litany of misery, yet You ….
Want to unlock the prison and make her the captain of your mill

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Filed under Collaborations