Monday, January 31, 2011

Time wont tell. Observed. Digested. Freewrite.

inspired by

metal has a feel
blue more than a color
sons are more than seeds
our needs are just desires we pawned to acquire
the answer to his question
suffering is universal my friend
they raped him till he put their answer in his mouth
disgusted as I watched them
shove scripture down his throat
unbalanced as a slavemaster proclaiming his mercy unto slaves
chains bind the same even when you dont see
the free carry shackles in opinions

picked his jaw off the floor
wiped the spit
spit the rest
stood straight
resist and they will flee
and come back with seven stronger than themselves
confused as to why so vicious
void of an answer
or rebuttal to the beat-down
the atheist in a room full of christians proclaiming to be atheist
he wasn't brave he was honest
he didn't have an answer so he questioned
the response lessened my belief that we are more mercy
than our fathers or our conquerors

our needs are just desires that we pawned to aquire
time wont tell our true stories
history will be revised and dark ages will return
the Vatican will reboot.
Jerusalem will rebuild.
Jesus will return again
we'll beat our weapons into plows
plows will micro into chips
chips will enter into net
squeeze til we pixel
return to shards in the mosaic of life
blaming one another for the shatter

Thursday, January 13, 2011

stream of conscious write.

used to expel every shadow in the day
then I embraced the ether
lost my religion in a secret
escaped from NIMH
still stumbled on mice in cages
my surprise
and to my chagrin
moral victories remain largely winless
masters of degrees and not much more
less than they went in
in terms of dollar signs
but signs dont matter
unless they're green of course
one too many courses and not enough paths
education was a manifest destiny
til the bottleneck came
calculated says my personal conspiracy
people dont listen to theories anymore
just FOX news and the like
its likely we are bound merely perceiving freedom
in shackles
debt equates slavery
how many institutions do you owe
this is what revolutions are fought for
i know your history, America
the way you got free you deny
gorilla warfare
roadside attacks
you were israelis struggling against Rome
were Palestinians occupied by Israelis
and then you became the oppressor
often a cycle remains so
you never changed heart just manipulated
sold tickets to a show you never really understood
Freedom without Justice never stood
will never stand
you kill just men who dissent peacefully
black socialists and white presidents
are as mulch on fields next to momuments
in drought blood keeps you greener than the other side
fit for holidays never meant to really be holy
just as reminders as to what will happen
when you go after the seven heads of the beast
babylon will slay you and put your head up in books
cause stakes arent effective anymore
stakes is still high
warning the elementary subconsciously
of dissent
we ressent Justice here
we'll invade you for Pepsi-Cola or Haliburton
Capital is a white house of green backs
stacked against the populous
there is money made mostly from the hungry
seeking after what we see
the hungry will eat anything
a statue called liberty has on a tablet
"Give me your hungry"
They feed us shit
give us chiterlings by the bucket full
hog maw and pigs feet
take this and eat and give thanks
scraps from master's table
pray for your piece of the pie
but dessert is for those we say who deserve
the rest of us serve thirsty
pray for your piece
but god will not hear you
we give false names when we conquer
we lay claim to the altered
holding on to promises
while reservations are made

Sheared son of Samson/Palestinian Moonrise

written to "Unthinkable" by Alicia Keys

If they made you feel worthless
if even for a moment only
Let me make you feel worshiped
You were worth shipping
to get you here
hear me now
in native tongues
I am a sheared son of Samson
you are a Palestinian Moonrise in my eyes
let the ceiling fall
legs for pillars
lend me your jawbone
along with your bottom lip
our clinched hands, our weapon
secrets outlined in black chalk
next to battle plans
we peaceful
there is Justice in our silence
we walk unwalled streets
in fact.
You demand non-fiction
I write new reality
more than pleasure is the plan
less than pleasing unacceptable
you fill our table with spices East
or at least make me smell beautiful
I see you in the scent you leave me with
I like when you stroke my beard
no one does, actually
I've been waiting for one like you
sub-script scripture
miraculous outside the books
we study
the culture of one another
forge iron out of the would be
then gold from our iron
i like that you know what I mean mostly
never in question
we both know and believe
you've seen every tattoo up my sleeves
allow me cure the disease a man has been to you
you remind me of what's out there
i want what's inside you.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011


I could tell you that your eyes are the future that I cried to see at my birth...
BUT, you might *not* be ready
probably wont believe me
after all, I'm a poet
I have a way with words.
an alchemy with phonemes
pupils are full of sincerity and silence
I often stammer in person
my mind overflows and i have a slight delay mid sentence
I tense
I freeze
my palms do get balmy
you think
I have my way with words
the birds dont have their way with the air
nor the fish with the sea
I'm speaking in currents
contrary to popular belief
I don't catch the flow so often
my words come from where they came
We ask for the truth of their origin
like we wonder where God comes from
the question in yourself
keeps you from believing
keeps you from seeing the better beautiful before you
If I affirm, "Believe only half of what you hear"
then let my name be the lie
my words are my truth
if they be illusion they be for my personal allusions
I'm delusional like the best prophets were
do you blame the brush or the artist
for the pink water in the painting
if perception is reality
maybe he sees your blue as pink
if perception is reality
we all live in a myriad of illusion
but maybe the most sane of us all
speak in allusions

your eyes are the future
i cried to see at my birth.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

day 2. Every weekday Create.

"Tell me where you're from"
Came from the Sol
burnt bronze and serious
this was not a metaphor of spirit
flesh of flames
they moved like wings but weren't
hot air rises
so it levitated from the lungs
they called It an "Angel"
It called them man
that was its only word
went back from where it came
that day was hotter than before
or maybe the memory burned them so
they wanted to go where the fire doesn't burn
where the world is a slow turn
and the turns never bend

Monday, January 3, 2011

Rock Climb in Hijab

I have decided to take on the arduous task of Creating SOMETHING
Every single weekday of this year. I've decided to post here since I'll
Be posting very often and this is a lot less intrusive that a facebook note.
I'll be posting Poems/Essays/Paintings/articles/ any medium of art. I am
An amatuer in many things so we shall all see how all develops.
This is my very first installment.
Poem: Rock Climb in Hijab.

Stooped down and presented
Palms up
Drank water from her cup
The cup was her hand
I'm not her man
But I drank

She's fresh like the rain
Her reign will be fresh
Queen of my heart
Covering her majesty
She rock climbs in hijab
Runs miles in the rain

Outlined with eyeliner black
Closer to Isis
Like Osirus
I want her to all see
Odd rocks in our path
Places we can CROSS water
Both drank from the CRESCENT of your hand
Squeeze light from the Crescent of my eyes

We blink then open and see
We eclipse again
My reflection blocks your pupils
Back to me
Its your shadow in the center of my eye

Deep space and orbit
Bits and pieces
Dark Matter Distance
God in every other sentence
And in silence by the inch

Sweet scent
I caught you
My tulip in a dry river bed
Puma by the waterfall
Wet where the ice melt
New Balance Princess
Rock climb in hijab