Still

I see dem evils, conjuring up schemes while I'm sleeping, like Jesus walking the dessert for forty days, a maze of burning temptation, how do we escape this lustful jungle, I love you, but only your skin, can you think of ways to trap me into the cob web, where nothing of love is spoken, a deep remorseful state, hate envelopes and develops into a plague, when everyone, even your idols fall into the material lake, we are humans, we are fake and real, but inside we conceal, caged and mystified by the materials we possess, are we possessed by the materials we obsess, male and female menopause, when emotions get high, pause, and breathe till every anger leaves, like the seasons change, feelings do the same, be the witness behind the doer, detached from the moment, even though they mistake your mistakes as true intentions, being cool and calm in midst of bombs, keeping still and stagnant, like a serene lake

Confused

Confused, why do we love and hate, only to love each other again, only to fight with emotions and anger, who do I listen to when the person I look up to is knee deep in the pitt of quick emotions, when they argue with no reason, people's feelings change like the seasons, whether they are mad all you got to do is weather it out, its so difficult because you judge them, embrace them today and fight the next, I don't get it, I want to run away where everything is serene, can you blame me, I love you, but not because of who you are but because I see myself in you, selfish, don't you think, surrender to an image, where marriage brings more fights than fun nights, but I just can't see it, I hate arguing and fighting over nothing, listen to what they say not what they do, a phrase that will only come from the lips of the hypocrite, the more you talk the less they listen, so the most important thing is to sit down and listen, pay attention, silence the inner pride, take things for what they are, maybe it is all just a wrong interpretation, question everything, from the lowest to the highest, yes, even your parents,

Ra

The beautiful questions hanging from my head like a question mark, still the light from the spark, illuminates the dark from the disco lights, white nikes, denim jeans, summer skits, flirts, everything is all about work, but I am tempted by the evils, laughing from the poisoned wine from their fortress, I skip the wine and straight to the ganj, in the jungle where the weak are eaten, but the strong prevail, and swallow the nail like the truth, tough and rough, I resist the rust of the touch from the lustful, disgusting, slaving and at the end of the day sleeping and falling into a trance, a dance where we are lead into a path, instead of knowing that truth plus truth can set you free, we'd rather go on a shopping spree, thats the type of math we learn, the more we yearn the more we bathe in the spoiled black currant oil, eating from the soil that is as corrupt as the intentions of the farmers that toil, from the politicians that speak through the tv, frequencies like lies, travel through the thick smog entering our mircophone

Hanging

They don't know the truth, thats why they use capitalism as an excuse, to act so rude, shameless, the aimless games they play to put us in the slaveship, or as they say the deadly 9-5, alive but on life support, the ship waits for the last passengers at the port, but I purposely miss the ride, stride like the gum, meditate alone like a nun, praying to the sun, starring till my eyes melt and the rays strike my ego, burning my soul, taking my skin down the road of salvation, stripping away my material, only leaving the superior energy, that vibrates so heavenly, with no doubts attached, only certainty, but I stand with subtle amenity, to erase any duality and multiple personalities, forget the labelling, make up like mabelline, but I stand forever dangling from the guillotine, never breaking

Back right up

I pick up the pen from the graveyard, I stand infront of the army with the pen as my guard, the ink as the light, the burning passion as my guide, but still breathing and listening to the sound of the universe, slowly as the flower unfurls, the preschool girl dances and twirls, from the scientist to the pothead, just struggling to look for a new consciousness, sometimes I sit and let the smoke drift from my lips, and I stop and think, where time is not present, clock freezes this moment, something we can enjoy, a beautiful peace, like a painting, only with detachment we can enjoy, the life we weren't meant to destroy, a golden boy sitting infront of the stage with a toy, peace, peace, he screams before the deceased, but the dead and the living have no peace, they try to find the broken pieces, but I stand right up to God and say that I am yours for the taking, life will only reveal itself if you will

Detach

Trying to detach from lust, I spit the goo and taste disgust, salivating at the ripe skin, sweet and soft, supple and intimate, I try to get close but I squinted, not ready for the glare, the light, I stay away, its too bright, still trapped in the dark cave, still fascinated with the spark like a rave, but I place my ego in the grave, a resurrect into a new man, with no sin, but I still lust over your skin, temptations ferment within, brews a beverage too hot for the devil, I drink, entice my senses with the lust that has haunted man for ages, standing with two eyes on your breast, forgetting the scriptures I read on my bed, looking through your eyes I only see the skin, touch, blush as I move across your chest, an embrace, laced with sex lies and hate, but one passionate kiss can set the stage, a forgotten sage, hypocrite starring at the mirror, but the flesh is ripe, and the harvest is tonite, a man trapped fighting his inner nature with sacred scriptures, the battle rages and never finishes, put out the flaming lust, that has burned for so long, that has helped create and destroy many songs

Question

I find peace in the silence, speaking to you with mute mouth, listening with the glitters that glisten on my skin, slowly caressing the melody, but I stand in the middle of dualities, no love no hate, a fiery passion cooled by the kiss of the mist that travels along the mountain ridges, far from the ebony oil that fills the african safari, but in the computer age like atari, we communicate fast but lack the interest in the soul, I step back and become a watcher, a viewer from the third person perspective, I do this to gain perspective, tunnel vision is my enemy, drunk of ego laced Hennesy, so I believe and try to achieve, but really, capitalism is not the end all be all, from from love and hate, more like detachment from emotions, divorce from sensations of lust, I travel the empty road to happiness where men have fallen, false witnesses smoking the wrong cess, I write not to impress but to press the thoughts down on the paper that hang on my head, a spiritual revolution, no judgement, imagine smoking with no one harassing, just passing, smoke travelling, from the abdomen to the universe

Gotta move out

Slaves on a trip, billboards hypnotize me, as they flash by, naked to the naked mind, but like salt on the wound, we bury our tomb, with the dust swept by the devils broom, and soon to pay, but we are all slaves, all the money we make goes away, so how do we stay sane, when our brains have been washed then drained, that explains the slavery, mockery, they make fun of me, oh they love a student in debt, we break so much sweat, they show us a dream, but my eyes are open, peeking through the seams of the curtain, I see the lies, the materialism has our focus stolen, looking on things that are golden, instead of the overwhelming problems, thieves in the night, stealing our virginity, an unfortunate reality, that someone has to see, overcome and believe, I step away from being a victim in their movie scene, I will

Concrete safari

The doctors change procedures like the changing seasons, feel the patients lesions, in the hallway screaming, no more fake medications, greedy politicians, only puppets, enslaved by the mass appeal, but no one appeals, fights for their rightful dreams, but instead they take the beating, one more pill, one more reason, to trust these crippled minded beings, the epitome of treason, while the patients are never receiving, the treatment that they've been pleading, the side effect of modern day treatment, is to live with the drug forever, a personal profit made for every sickness that our bodies witness, and for that, like a bad marriage, with massive side effects, intelligent human beings, falling slave to the money we make, the problems we cook up and shake, while they call me a cheapskate, I don't follow the trends and what they say, mass media is the medium, the middle man that holds our information at hand, selects a certain few and inflates and holds every stereotype to be true, black and blue the truth until it is force fed into the youth, unenlightened and persuasive, manipulative politics, they only win when you buy into the sin.