Religion of the Beat
I inhale the rhythm
Concieved in the soil of the drum
Baptized in floods of holy sweat
My body's water God blessed
God is the beat
Snake charmer of my feet
Storms brood thunder in my hips
Telling a story through the art of the mime never parting my lips
My fiber laced with movement
Grace and wrath of which my limbs are fluent
Absorbing the beat in my body's trance
I exhale in worship. Dance.
Poor Poor People
I analyze to gain the mind
Later become the elder wise
You club jam
Eat spam
Fed by the white hand
Man drained your brain
No choice left...
Commercials keep you buyin'
Make you keep wantn'
2 way more appealin' than the diploma school way
No college fund
Sporting $120 timberlands
Say our kids got attention deficit
Cause they eatin' donuts for breakfast
Damn get up from the white man's table
Fuckin' you up to put you back in the stable
Now he smartened up since lynchin'
Created you a reality that's only fiction
You wanna work poor man?
Work.
You want equal opportunity black man?
Affirmative Action.
You want finance?
Interest.
Friday! Pay Day!
Not so fast poor man don't forget to postmark by the 15th day
Taxes, rent, utility, electricity
HaHa poor people I ain't got to lynch you now
I'm rapin' your unborn dynasty
I accept cash, checks, money orders
Did you see the new jordans on the bill board round the corner?.
Ghost of my Ink
It was gray in the room
a little damp cool
sitting on the edge of my bed
needle and thread
a candle lit in front of me
working in thought a little dreamy
the flicker of the candle caught my attention
it moved as though someone walked by and changed its direction
my brows furrowed
gotta fix those windows
settled back into my work
lost in my thoughts prick slip tug jerk
saw somebody move
the flame pulsing a groove
to which shadows were dancing on the walls in my room
And then I felt it behind my back
stern stiff whitelike transparent pointing finger tap
up my left shoulder in the crescent of my neck
ah a familiar scent
is that you ghost of my ink
four years ago I let you sink
for a wish that made me sacrifice
my expression in your vice
this isn't right just not the time
going to bed till tomorrow's sunshine
still dark in the room I knew I fell asleep
a great pressure over powered me weak
the ghost of my ink straddled on top of me
envelopped my body
fingers in my hair thumbs clasping my jaw bone
waking me in a sway with out a tone
I opened my eyes and through this figure saw deep
every word I wrote before burying them six feet
we rose together picked up the pen
communed to the paper to write and to mend
with each letter and every word the ghost of my ink began to seep back into my viens
a rushing heat exact pleasurable pain
we wrote we wrote quickly became I write I write
the ghost of my ink I had revived
abandon you
me
never again
my blood is laced with ink
powerful drug of the think
I am a fiend
to read a page I designed to scream
passion my fuel
moves me like heat to a molecule
reunited with myself for embedded in my every cell
is the need and art of the tell
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