Tag Archives: Spoken word

Lament of a Psalmist

lament

You can feel intimate with a militant. 

They seem so real, yet when you touch them, you feel silicone. 

But God said! So their thus said is legitimate. 

Ignorant innocents are impudent kites

Hold on or be hung by string theory

Holy rollers become weed smokers.

Unnoticed, Moses became the Joker

Deleting pixels for their picture a bat symbol, not magnum opus

Hopeful loyalists practice upper lip stiffness as wisdom

Won’t take a knee or comb the heir to the family business.

Live in a dragons den whispering their knowledge of the litmus.

This divine monopoly’s a comedy of vapours and groupthink.

Where the audience is clowned for pointing out it stinks.

Rub sticks and create fire or feel the sword like molar of holy rollers

Code masters unmask the mode of most high and create players to sacrifice.

Who am I?

A born sinner, a dinner, a lost soul to a soul winner that won’t vary the bait.

Space invaders, snipers, rangers marshal the momentum of the naysayer.

Demon days filled with gorillas, gargoyles and goblins are a Lord’s Prayer.

Whose frames do you wear? Do you die or dare? Be a black life, matter?

I see red tape masters speak tongues in monotones like heaven’s got their name on the deed.

With all of these gang signs and storms seen I’m falling through my flaws.

My moorings are unsure and I’m dying to breathe, searching for answers.

If the real God we can’t see, is it because of us or gospel gangsters?

 

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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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The End

I’m in love with….I could never finish the sentence
My regrets roused rancorous desires for regression
I was colour blind as the red flags flapped,
I felt so fly, the fact that I didn’t, feels impressive.
My ego was bedded by this boo as the crowd roared us on.
Economical with the truth about either of us being The One
We phoned in that blue light to the brain as though we were seeing
the sun.
The great depression was 3 rings away from speaking up.
Green was never my shade, yet blue was our colour.
We called a spade a spade while digging crates and graves for each other
To tolerate through desperation seemed a better vow than to love each other.
Desecrating the legacies of Father, Father and Mother.
Who we fancied remained a secret that not even mirrors could fathom.
If we get on, let’s see where it goes was the best chestnut, adage
We thought we had our onions in order so we ignored the sage.
This was a fools buffet, eat now and pay later
Needed more time to date but….
We were less diligent than a fan of James Yancey
Pilot of Aaliyah’s plane on an incredible flight of fancy
If you do best at a certain altitude, why lower the standards?
If our mutual anchor had matched us, the candle position was shifting.
If walking through hell was our job, we seemed fire resistant.
We did what was expected and found some return on the investment.
Blurring the burning yearning for affection with friendship.
The words house and mate were, for the most part, unconnected.
 The moment we took the breath away, I became we, with love in a sentence.
Now if this is a confession to someone who cannot give penance.
What are we to do with the fragments of our reflections?
We end.

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Finding Fruit

I stopped by your poems

Hugged them line by line

Our heartbeats fell as silken petals

This long lost love made Courtney Pine

Silence eavesdropped on mystic kisses

Eager vibrations rekindled the affair

Your swirling prose meditative.

My unchained cadences cohesive

Perceptive curtains arrange our winds though

Love isn’t lost if the heart’s still beating

Is this mine or our evocative secret?

A final kiss on our achievements?

The silence still eavesdrops

The longing lusts evermore.

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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

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

Numb

Perilous times have come, that’s what he said to me.

Days are but dreams, headlines are now a bed to me.

Grief and pain are like oxygen, peace is now dead to me.

What’s a warrior to his reflection if bull ish gives the lecture?

We die daily, not to sin but for the sake of being….here

As tears tear hearts, time’s words are stuttering to a whisper

Martin Luther or Malcolm?

The reformation shall be digitised.

Contact lenses become arm’s length embraces

Blue screen is cool if you can get it

We burn as charcoal, silently burning whiter than white

Why is it always so black and white?

Killing grounds we traverse as sacrifices in waiting.

What’s denial of our differences?

For the answer ask Rachel

We can’t remove our makeup!

Matter is an atom so where’s the thought for black lives

A hashtag is all that resides

We speak until we’re blue rarely reaching the bluest eyes

I’m living black going blue inside

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