Root Bonding

Heal the bones, cure the mind
The power of touch
Building up the tension
Bringing the heat with it
Hot as it melts on body
Stronger as the vibe increases
The night going on
The fire burning through
Two souls wanting to connect
Moving, twisting to relive the stress
Emotional wreck these two
As they form sweat
The sheets soak, holding
These two minds who seek to heal
Morning approaching
So they work with the dim late light
Boiling, never brief
Grievances left behind
Openings for the slow slow jams
Rammed, jammed
An offering to bless these deeds

Relieve your mind
Heal your body
Cleanse your thoughts
Free your soul

The Man Called Animal

I play the lottery
Never lucky, as my one and two’s vanishes
There into the production of mastered numbers
Another card, same story
I cringed the paper, free throw into the garbage bin
Walking on, thinking why I’m so unworthy
To receive the millions, my wants and desires
Nothing left but my empty pocket

The man on the street saw me
He was called the animal, I think
I wonder who looked at him and give him his name
Was it because of his worn out clothes
Or maybe his overgrown beard?
But in reality, hair is hair, as skin is to skin
He met me, looked at me
Saw me at my down times
With a voice, he asked “I need a smoke”
I asked why?
“My lungs need cleansing from the dirt,” he replies
“Here, take this pack,” I say
He says thanks and says
“Give me a flash light”
I ask why
“Cos I need the light to move through these tunnels”
“Here you go, take this flash light”
He smiles, and tells me I’m a good man
“How do you know? I have sin on my clothes
Don’t you see them?”
I see them, all of them, he says
But I also see your soul
That which you have repaired
With light, you cleansed your mind
Placed your soul in a zen of peace
“I don’t understand,” I tell him
You will one day

He never repaid me
I never saw the animal again
But I remember his words
I soaked it into my voice
In peace, I found those one or two’s
Not in papers
In my quest to live and find his words
The one he gave to me
So I say to myself
My luck has runneth over
For my faith is all I need
To receive, I will give back these ones or two’s
To the hands of lives who thirst
Not to systems that eat and never purge back soul

Simple World: Born Winner

I walk through the wilderness, amidst the fire, trees burning, still I hop through with my red spade. All around fishes throwing bubbles, shouting with their gills out wide. Gun straps, bloody revelations; still the heat refuses to quench. Paradise is out there I know, but the need for hell grows every day. In our eyes, one sees the thirst, our quest to live on. The time to be free is near. The earth rotating around is ready to hatch, soon to break minds of those who fail to amend their hearts. Mama said pain is the cloth we wear for comfort or the other way around. Single with a ring, I know I’m taken but my flesh says otherwise.

So take that shot, you know it feels good. Don’t lie, as it drips down to your spine, you taste the peach; bitterness right? Black or white, we are legends born to ride the throne, throw our crowns and wear the dust of soil.
Confess your sins, and hear your name. The heavens you heard of is in the mind that seeks peace. Sparks fly, romance ignited. Lovers bond by life, destined for a final kiss.

My style perfected by my mistakes reuniting me with the one I lost. Why? Cos love is war.
Burnt out, born winner

Stardust Memories

In my mind
I see the road
That leads back to the low cut houses
These shapes form a circle
Around, around they go
With people sitting on their front ends
Laughing, telling jokes
As the night passes through
The peace of a child plays on

In my mind
I wait for the day
When I will return
As a man with the smile of child

Once again
I will return back there
With the freshness of youth
Kicking playing along with the sand
Bananas trees all around
Mangoes fruits all falling down

Birds tuning on till they find their voices
It remains settled, my childhood memories
All in my mind, as the moonlight dapples on the zincs of barnawa

Documentary: Fuelling Poverty & The Issue of Banned Truths.

Documentary: Fuelling Poverty & The Issue of Banned Truths..

Butterfly

There she sat
By the hills of hibiscus
The little girl with the purple dress
Braided hair,
And a smile so wide
Recreating her day as it goes by
Her hands free from work
Full with sand
Chasing every insect that went by
Her sandals brown and loose
Marred with dirt
Singing lullabies of the incoming night
Laughing as her wings spread out
Knowing she was born to be free
One with the clouds, bright as the sun

Go there, behind the Sahara desert
Across the land of the big waves
Walk up those high hills
And you will find
The girl with the purple dress
Flying with the birds up high

Simple World: Paranoia Edition

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The demon of fear is lurking behind the glass, waiting to testify to your bad deeds. The chase begins with you running searching for freedom. The crown you wear falls on ground and you’re left to pick up the pieces. The moon still shinning with red confirms your lies, those truth you twisted into beliefs. The water will not cleanse of your sins, unless you look down deep into it seeing who you are destined to be. Seeing your face, human formed, brings back all those forgotten memories. As you preserve further the night drags longer leaving you with a thirst for the morning
So I say fight them. Tear those walls till your heart is free of comprise: the one you were born with. Why do you think we exist? To sulk? Nah. I think we live with life to represent a perfect state.
Best friends become your enemies compounding and adding to your disbelief that you have of life.
Again I say fight. For to be great is to be break free from lies and deceit. History is there, I know, but I only wish to know of it to progress forward.
The moon still shinning red, dripping blood awaits for those asleep to awake.
The world is fucked up, like a teacher passing greed for education. We continue partake in the commercial of plasticity failing to see demise of our given longevity. The struggle of life is a pain no one but life can teach. So watch it, admire it and watch the red moon disappear along with your history of prevalent paranoia
Puke dirt
And thirst greatness.