Night Tremors

 

I awoke in the eerie dark
Or maybe I was still asleep
It was far too dark to tell
Too quiet to understand
Arcane and unsettling
Something or someone
Was in my room with me
WHAT WAS THAT?
Has fear taken ownership
Am I paranoid or in a dream
Sweating from the paralyzing fear
Droplets begin to roll off my forehead
So fucking scared
FEAR
Am I gonna die!!
Oh……my……god

 

Kick it
This fear has fermented I’m mentally tormented cause the visions I’ve invented
Are relentlessly depressing
A life form unscented from someone’s Hell has ascended it may not be documented but
…..I think that I’m demented….
I’m so tempted to pray to please be represented
But my God is discontented with the sins which I’ve presented
My life is at stake
My soul to take while I’m awake for goodness sake
We all make a mistake
Go away
Let me wake
Slow it down now

 

Perhaps I was dreaming
Dark theater of the brain
Strange noises in my sanctuary
Am I alone or is someone here
My cranium keeps shaking
Tears pool down my cheeks
My reflection in the droplets
I see some movement
A tree branch? No a shadow!
Paralyzed in my bed
Make this end
Please let this be a dream but if it is a dream
What does that mean?
Are dreams simple stories our minds make up
Or are they the realties of what could be?
Why do our dreams never seem to have a beginning
Why do they never have an end….or a taste of the reality
How can they be so vivid and true yet so surreal
I don’t think I like dreams
I don’t want to have them anymore
Please get me out of here or wake me up
I want to be me….to be free
Kick it once more

 

They are a malady of the banality someone’s misplaced morality
Worming its way into my concept of reality
Oh the fucking brutality the Dream Police finding criminality
Crimes against humanity my lack of sanity has to be what it is to be
To bring me to serenity
Stripping away the inside of me a paranoid fragility
My head hurts….just let me be
In the dark absence of light so filled with fright
My heads not right
I hate those fucking tremors in the night

THE STORYTELLER

 

The storyteller unlocks the subconscious
A locksmith using memories as his tool
Reminding us knowledge which lay dormant
Sleeping in the memories of our own hearts
Wishing one day to sort out real from imagined
So we listen with intent hoping to be free
Because feelings that lay frozen in our minds
Plead day to day that they be un-manacled
Free of the fears which lock our hope away
Holding hostage that which we already know
The knowledge that dawned with our births
Stored in the vastness of our repressive minds
Inside the temples of the storytellers graveyard
Where secret knowledge is preached in solitude
So we listen

 

 

The storyteller he makes no claims nor judgments
His tales are the dreams of visitors from the night
Imaginary and manifested friends of midnight lore
Some welcome some unwanted but all unfiltered
Preying on our eager and vivid imaginations
Reaching in to unleash our suppressed emotions
To strip them naked exposed unto ourselves
He asks not to be paid in silver nor gold
Only hopes to enter into our hearts and minds
And allow his words soothe or injure wakefulness
Offering no direction nor instruction be followed
Exposing incognito the paths of our choosing
Oftentimes he tell stories of profound love
Allowing many to reflect fondly of experience
So we believe

 

 

Yet for others love never seems to be enough
So he recalls stories of deep pain and loss
Sharing the pains he lived through and died from
Exposing himself while revealing our profound grief
And in the end with the many tales he’s woven for us
He blankets us all from that darkness which resides
Obscuring from inside the desires of the incendiary
Coaxing emotions to come bubbling to the surface
In a desperate search to find our own reflection
And fix the broken parts we tried to forget
Whether memories make you sad or glad matters not
It bears no significance once the story comes to end
The teller leaves carrying our hurts without reward
Upon his shoulders to cast into his healing heart
A mutual exchange of what is and what should be
As it was intended

 

The biggest fish of the fishing rod, a thousand tales from Scheherazade
Saviors of the suicide squad that make us stop and think so hard
Should we disregard our own backyard or traipse on down the boulevard
Scary streets abandoned yards, play at risk of being scarred
Don’t blame the words of the traveling bard its only a tale
The storytellers veil to hide his wails
Be he poet or prophet or teller true
He gives freely of words to me and you
Words plucked from his heart become his art
Right from the start
He writes them down not for glory
Only wants to tell a story
To reveals our eyes to our mirror
Put perspective little bit clearer
So gather round come in nearer
Stand naked before his story moral
Thank him for his message oral
Once he’s gone only words remain
Because no one notices his barrel of pain
They only ask him to tell it again and again
Until he has no story left

 

 

Tears Of A Smiley Face

 

Jesus Christ my mirror is broken
I ain’t joking the bloke inside looks like he’s croaking
The figure I see could die from the choking
Too many years of toking and smoking
I have a notion his minds lost forward motion
Direct result of his explosive emotions
But I’ve misspoken
The figure that be isn’t the me that I see
A reflection of what all the others perceive
Not the young me wearing his age on his sleeve
Don’t mean to deceive but I don’t think they see
The once virile that man I believe I should be
A young mans reprieve in my minds reality
But let me intercede
They just don’t see a strong heart of stone
Just an old man alone with nothing to show
But a history of abuse and deteriorating bone
And far too many opportunities all of which be has blown
Now a victim of age all on his own
Meet the old man owning Osteoporosis
Cirrhosis and narcosis in a body atrocious
Struggling through life in an ageless psychosis
So many maladies it makes me precocious
So focus
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
Work that shit into your rhymes bitches
Then tell me this ain’t so dope it leaves you in stitches
While you scratching your itches and counting your riches
Yea its got glitches both pernicious and malicious
But its gritty and witty nutritious and delicious
Don’t be so suspicious
I’ve got so many regrets they’ve been repossessed
I’ll keep them suppressed at your behest
So I’ll gladly confess to all my crimes and excess
But I digress
As a sign of the times I try to read between the lines
The wrinkles define why I cry and I whine
Behind the hazel cry soaked old eyes
Hides a soul blinded by this life and it’s lies
No one wants to hear bout the lows and the highs
They just sympathize hearing bout my demise
Wrinkles and crows feet my conciliation prize
Old but not wise
Maybe they see a smiley face his eyes all a shine
Never once guessing that inside he keeps crying
Once he was flying now waiting and dieing
Or maybe I’m lying
Maybe I’m no more than a book on a shelf
Pissing and moaning feeling sorry for myself
Crying on my lonesome because I screwed up to the hilt
The Pinball Wizard who keeps hitting a tilt
But this broken life is all I have built
So fuck me I suck
I’ll dry my eyes on my guilt

 

Live and Love in Peace

You May Be A Racist

 

 

Money for opioid addiction. Man it seems to be a very important issue these days, and Politicians are jumping on the bandwagon in an effort to prove how important it is to them. It’s an epidemic! So is this a new phenomenon? Hell no, its been in the ghetto’s for years but it only infected the poor, the disenfranchised, or the thrill seeking suburban teens. It was a problem for the urban youth, code word for minorities. We were happy as hell to just lock up anyone who used drugs so mainstream America could feel safe, far away from the losers and evil criminals. But now it has infiltrated white suburbia and suddenly addiction is an epidemic that must be addressed. Now white America is prepared to spend all kinds of money because it’s a problem that has infected their youth, urban drugs in mainstream Suburbia America. That’s privilege and racism whether you are willing to admit it or not and like it or not, if it took these circumstances for you to consider addiction a disease which knows no race, class, or environment, you may be a racist.…..

 

 

You’re a racist
Too busy bitching and moaning jawboning and groaning
Screaming so loud that your hatred showing
Your face is all glowing your bullshit is flowing
As you seethe in self pity your racism keeps growing
Believe it or not you continue Jim Crowing
You be exploding and disowning cause you need more melatonin
But shit man that’s whack
You can’t be more black
Sport lash tattoos on your back while smoking your crack
Pretending you’re stacked and hip hop ain’t just black
You don’t know Jack
Time to admit
Who da cap fit let them wear it
You’re a Racist shit
Being politically correct isn’t a solution
You ain’t some old white man exclusive
Verbally abusive full of mental pollution
Read your constitution the retribution and the revolution
Is causing confusion
You’re an unusual delusional on a stay of execution
Aughta be in seclusion
Just an obtrusive nuisance whose abusive excuse is to hate your brother
And become a recluse
Think you got game but you ain’t nothing but shame
Flickering flame looking for someone to blame
Hating on your brother just shows that you’re lame

 

 

 

We traded their blood for free white economics
With atomic vomit poking fun in Ebonics
Time to end the onyx vitrionics
And add to harmonics
Have you even listened
To songs of freedom
Ever really heard the pains
The chains and unheard claims
Of our brothers all bleeding
Pleading and seething in shackles of grieving
Or are you blinded by your heritage
Sipping on your favorite beverage
Using law as your leverage
Is it the garments they wear
Or the skin beneath the thread
That makes you fear and dread
Their lives have been fleeting
Whipped just for reading
They’ve been bleeding and pleading
Too many hearts stopped beating
This shit should end today
I hope the fucking KKK
Simply burns away
Charred by the flames on the crosses
Of the hatred they made
That shit leaves me perplexed
So what’s next?
We need to bear of the scars of the rope burns across their necks
Yes I’m pissed amidst this unforgiving hateful mist
You can continue to say racism doesn’t exist
But if you really believe that…..
Take me off your hypocritical CHRISTmas list

Peace out my brothers and sisters, Live and Love in Peace

Culture Profiteers

culture

 

 

(A POV beat street piece to honor MLK)
They kept us enslaved
Deprived and depraved
Drowned us to death
In the blood we had paid
Now you cross the street cause the snowflakes afraid
Weighted with guilt from the whips they had made
Yet you market hip hop fashion in a pretty array
Selling our culture and stealing the pay
Cashing in dollars off of cultural poverty
Marketing the onus of black urban novelty
Selling our fates like you think we still property
Years of oppression as your corporate commodity
Give us headlines in black about murder and sodomy
When it came to reparations its seems you forgot me
Shackled and hassled and profiled in black
Handcuffed and choked or shot in the back
Throwing us pennies while you take the stack
Till the only way out is dealing in crack
Erupting underground in exploding seismology
Turning us into some urban mythology
While brothers and sisters unclaimed in pathology
Lie there dead awaiting an apology
This ain’t no rocket science psychology
Inequality in myopic dollar visionlogy
Just corporate America trading and selling hysteria

White hood on a head, bible in hand
Burning white crosses in our holy land
Running away as quick as you can
Back to your church to make a new plan
Ethnic ferocity is that all you got for me?
Bible revival a Christian held lottery
Killin’ our children just don’t seem like god to me
My people are undying you don’t think that bother me?
You languish in gold an economic prodigy
Skipping over the part of your inhuman atrocity
Slavery was our odyssey and you ain’t the boss of me
It all seems so odd to me
Like the world is on fire
Claiming racism has expired
But the hatred still burns like a funeral pyre
With the conniving prejudice living and thriving
Whites kids bopping and jiving while black Moms sit home a crying
Choking on the metaphoric noose where children keep dying
It really stung when condemned our young
Then watered the tree’s where our ancestors hung
Locked us behind bars made of lily pad fear
Brown and black wearing the new orange gear
You think we nuthin but dealers strung out on dope
Climbing your picket fence dream to rob you of hope
But we work we live and we breathe and walk the tightrope
Profile us to stand like a guilty sculpture
Pockets picked by a Wall Street vulture
Its so stressful it give me an unccer
Profiting from the blood and tears
Of African culture

Omnipresent Observer

observer

 

Street/Beat rambling wordplay

I need to tell someone
But no one can I confide
An omnipresent observer
Whispering silently inside
I want to hide but my presence is implied
Always being watched my hands always tied
Being taken for a ride without a place to hide
Inside I hear rambling banter and clamor
Is it my doppelganger
A pathogen of anger
Attacking my sanity in cryptic profanity
It’s a Goddam calamity
Is it real or just a fantasy I’m panicking in agony
And he just keeps on nagging me
Dragging me and stabbing me
Shredding my brain and shagging me
…….Oh the humanity
Ripping apart my fragile mind
A voice so darkly unkind
The humiliation the exploitation
No alleviation from the cranial castration
From the brazen maven of invasion
Comes salvation
That omnipresent silent observer
Puts me in a fervor
Silently cursing and perverting me
Hurting and converting me
Churning and burning tossing and turning
Then deserting me
Always watching and waiting
Hating and debasing
My head is rotating and pulsating
So Goddam frustrating
I just want him to leave
Die and let me grieve in peaceful reverie
Give me one full day of brevity
Instead of bleeding in severity
But he stays and misbehaves
Maybe its I who should cease
Not take life any further
But I just stay and gleam away
In the eyes of my observer

Death Row Stroll

death-row

 

Modern Beat Rhyme
(In Freeform cadence rhyme, compound signatures)
Cold winters day, late November
Burning in fear inside Purgatory’s ember
On Death Row shuffle
For sins I don’t even remember
Did I do it? Did they misconstrue it?
Too many thoughts I can’t break through it
Screw it, I blew it
If they Want me to die I’ll do it
They wanna open their gates
So we can all seize our fates, our loves and our hates
Is that what life generates?
I’ve got my death date
The reaper anticipates and my grave awaits
Today is the day I take the slow walk to peace
Today is the day when my failed life will cease
Led down he hall with chains on my feet
Comforted by a man who hears all mens shrieks
The voice behind me is the preacher walking
Words of his Bible doing all the talking
Stalking my death and holding my coffin
Its fucking exhausting
Like I’m on another trial
Dead man walking vile
Its my green fucking mile
To make the victims family smile
Get their retribution if I offer my contribution
To their resolution of emotional restitution
When I go from this institution to my persecution
Maybe electrocution is the final solution
They want my allocution?
Screw it what if I didn’t do it
Goes to show ya there ain’t no closure
From a man who stands innocent in a shadow of guilt
A dark of enclosure
Who loses or who wins
Who cares the walk begins
Fear turns to sweat dripping down my neck
Trying to keep a bold face but I just peed on the deck
I don’t want to take this trek
No noose around my neck
I didn’t kill the chick
I loved her
I swear on my life
I never saw that knife
I didn’t kill my wife
The wrong person is walking to death
But I Have nothing left and her families bereft
My attorney didn’t detest when I confessed
I was depressed and oppressed
Caved in at the bequest of a brutal request
Good cop bad cop at its very best
So here I am
Strolling down deaths hall
Taking the fall
Led by my executioner
The infamous Lucifer
Satan has me by the balls
How many others walked down these halls
I’m the moral equivalent of a holy dissident
A miscreant citizen militant innocent
Strolling to shoot up deaths insulin
Forced to mainline my own decline
Seems ironically sublime
Doing drugs was my only crime
Now its my method of dying
But no crying its just my time
I’m here at center stage
The audience full of rage….
Revenge finally comes of age
I wonder why
I only want to see the sun once more
Feel the heat upon my face
Dream about the morning birds
But what I heard was
“Speak your Last Words”
They strap me to their table
Bound in stretchy cable
Stick their needles in my veins
Pull tight on the reigns and what remains
………A dead man still in chains
In a roomful of hosts
A chamber of ghosts
All of us now toast
You may mistrust us or just be disgusted
But this injustice upsets us
And trust us
Death Row is poetic justice
Marching with Satan in tow
As I walked down Death Row