Writers block writing stop
Fighting what fires flocks
Painting luscious lions, locks
Ignited align with minds that won’t malign your crops.
You won’t see diamonds stop.
Shining when clouds climb on top.
The rush of the ride will drop.
Sometimes you’ve got to be a minotaur to get behind the door.
Frames change games, meanings names.
Blame remains that same iceberg lettuce.
This ain’t your average Tetris.
We shift gears because our vehicle lets us.
Watch your steps sun, don’t be caught in plain tiffs and vain rifts.
Your gift deserves more than memes and gifs.
I chop it up through writers block to give a soul a lift
Tag Archives: spokenword
Writers block writing stop
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?
The photo below was taken in Hauptwache, Frankfurt, click here if you’d like to see a few more from my trip. Or scroll down and read on
I know nothing of falling in love.
That tripping up, or a bit of a jigsaw.
Maniacally exclaiming life reshaping.
I stumbled over desperation until my chest demanded rest for its people.
Now salty for a taste of freedom
I grieve with ten thousand reasons for why we’re here.
What’s real talk to convenience?
Stores of obedience host underground shows.
Soon there’ll be no difference between breathing and blows.
Avalanches will flow.
Demons with god intentions only ever change lanes
Truth is loyal and destructive, it devastates and remains.
Where the sun sets the moon gains.
We all want the light without pain
We all want to know the 4-2-5 yet Judas gets in the way.
What are you a discipline of?
What’s your price today?
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?