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everyday.
is new.
flowing life,
casting the unseen.

and forming,
in fear and wonder.
thank you God,
for life.

sometimes,
i think about life.
i think about the content
and deeper substances.

pride, humility.
i think about black harlem,
how the root is like,
the aftican jungle.

so deep and surreal.
pumping the juice berry,
that's sweeter and bitter
than lemonade.

I want to enter,
the bone of my bone
too much,
I need to calm down.

and just sit and think.
and in silence,
meditate about,
the wonders of life.

it took my mothers life,
to push me out,
so i cant be here for nothing,
i gotta flourish now.

I got to win,
for the beautiful burnt skin,
flames skyrocketing,
in any land stepped on.

dig the metaphor,
or you might get lost.

I must win,
by the grace of God.
I must love,
my heart depends on it.

I see the jewels,
right in front in me,
and If I lift my arms,
for just one moment.

I'll reach them.
An unpleasant woman...

okay, here I go,
already marked by the simple notion,
of even daring to talk about the topic.

eyes driven,
waiting and peeking
ready to snipe a *****

for daring to speak and..
you know,
I see beautiful faces everyday.

that stuff is nothing new,
I'm looking for a soul,
not constructed together with glue.

damaged and broken women,
are like toys that are only interesting
to a certain point.

and once you grow,
you get annoyed with the limits,
and begin to seek something different.

if she ain't virtuous,
you better be careful,
my brotha be observant.

putting a woman on the
spot is a wonderful thing,
hear her deep swallow.. before everything that comes next.

she'll wave the look,
puff her **** chest,
make you forget that character ever mattered.

you ever met a chick,
with a bad attitude,
arguing with you and ya'll not even together.

ruining my vibe,
got my soul soft stumbling,
wondering where the defects are..

and I'm a simple dude,
if she's peaceful and supportive,
then i'm down for her like the bottom of the sea.

and the sea gets dark,
but we stay together like
the sands and the waves.

I will be honest,
whether your soul is broken,
or put together..

you are still responsible.

Your **** can have my eyes,
and your face can have my attention,
but like I said before,

it's nothing new.
I see ***** everyday
I see pretty faces too.

but what I don't see is,
commitment, positive decision-making,
selflessness, and understanding.

and I see pleasant souls departing,
while demons are in line with their suitcases,
booking rooms in her fake eyelashes,

lifted ***, luscious hair she done put her whole check on,
******* implants she done lost her health for,
face she done tweaked with a knife or paint brush.

and I get it,
I understand.

the standard of beauty today,
will only triple tomorrow,
and if you don't keep up

your pretty self gonna get left behind.

but her soul,
what will happen to her soul.
she's not warm no more, I can't feel her.

her selfies is the only thing
keeping her above surface,
and I reach out to her,

she has no hand to reach back,
one hand swimming,
the other hand has her iPhone.

so I don't know,
a state of mental illness is on the rise,
and in my eyes,

I need to find her fast,
before it's too late.
because I don't wanna lose her....
back in the day,
ymca was a sign
of the wonders I would set,
sitting on the shoulders
of a joyous black man.

probably thinking,
I'm sitting on millions,
as an NFL star,
never knowing my name,
but just hoping.

but I am sitting on millions,
i'm just not spending it yet.
waiting for the sun to twist
it's waist just a little more,
to see the top and bottom bright

the light is amazing.
I think about the day,
when i could dunk as kid,
and run with the football like a pro.

a sports champion,
but really a black boy
who was gonna be something.
whether it was being the father
of many children.

or never having any
and raising the adopted.

whether it was solving the worlds problem,
or being seen as one.
I would conquer like Muhammed Ali.
while making money in Harlem.

and my name's Mustapha.
meaning Chosen One.
I was born to drill in the good work,
funkify your life.
dont ask me twice how I pleasure
a sweetheart without even
entering the chambers, like....

I'm sane and insane,
at same time.
because I'm a peaceful man,
but never understood the powers at play,
so I gotta keep an open mind.

I can stand for days,
if whatever I'm standing for is worth it.
I always wondered what life meant,
but I accepted how beautiful it was.

I ran with it, and never looked back.
In a world where they are either jealous,
wicked, or tolerant towards your skin,
I move smooth, talk smooth, look smooth,
charity has kept my bones strengthened.

and where I am now,
is in no comparison to where I will be.
I wear my kufi as a salute and love,
for my origin and my culture.

and my sons and daughters,
will rock the smoothness,
like they been sliding on
oil they whole lives.

favor my life oh God.
whether in richness or whether it's just enough,
nothing will ever pull me,
from believing in your wonderful love.

this beauty I feel.
is something I didn't deserve,
but it was given to me anyway.

so I remember those days,
as a black kid,
winning and pumping,
at the ymca.
supportive white canvas,
for years I placed my thoughts,
on structured paths,
and sent you my emotions.

delivered them with mysterious words,
that you understood.

dear white and black canvas,
my words filled your space,
and held my thoughts,
and wants, and passions.

I thought about all the vain things,
and how they didn't matter.

I remember just wanting to love,
so hard, so abundantly.

my heart filling hers,
that love can be shown true.

but my heart knows,
something I don't;
holding inside wants,
of deep covet.

and sometimes I feel,
like swimming the aquatic,
to never see the world's
light again.

because it's so dim,
and in the water, I can breathe.

when the air above sea,
is constricting and surreal,
while staying still in the aqua,
will leave you floating.

in my heart,
I want.

and I don't want to.

im looking for hope,
like a troubled adult,
looks for his car keys,

something that he eventually finds,
but still troubled with or without them.
let my heart breathe,
and let it be subdued.

let it not want her.
let it not want it.
let it not want anything...

once I give my heart nothing,
it will have no choice but to listen to me,
then I will tell it...
everything that God told me.
Mustapha Olokun Dec 2019
we never think about the groups,
that missed the general courtesy,
love, passion, and charity.

I cannot see them anymore.
They are in isolation,
holding on to what was.

in pain, looking back at the
architectures of love,
which has been perverted beyond recognition.

Love was beaten and cast aside,
by ones wanting it for themselves.
So I've become, an advocate for love.

those groups, are hoping,
abandoned by counterfeits,
who were claiming allegiance of a spirit they weren't aware of.

How can they love you,
in the shadows of insecurity,
when they will run to the safest place
at the end of the day.

where they can feel the demons,
as low as they possibly can.

why be with you,
when he makes me feel more safe,
why be with her,
when she ***** me night and day.

why be with him,
when his height, car, and money put me at a higher place,
or why be with you,
let's just ****, have a baby, never commit to our dying day.

or why stay with you,
this ain't love, I'm supposed to be happy,
hmmm,
in reality you just dont know anything about it.

really, you gotta think outside the box,
to love correctly.

where there is no light,
there is for certainty darkness.
and where there is no love,
there is for certain, the threat of hate.

and to the hungry chickens,
pecking for attention through
apps that have no soul, where do their hearts lie?

today are individuals who claim love,
and then abandon,
claim love and then renounce,
with alligator sadness.

a counterfeit lover,
is gonna leave when they aren't satisfied,
a counterfeit lover gives you a scar,
then blames you for their actions

in a generation wanting to be served.
I ask you, would you rather be served and die,
or be a servant and live forever?

your choice to hurt others who hurt you,
shows you are just as wicked as them,
and there exist those who'd rather suppress demons,
instead of seek to eliminate them.

because the demons are attractive,
and they invite friends, so you can never be lonely.
you can never eat in a table of light,
when darkness and light are forever in opposition.

so those groups that yearned to love again,
in the true definition of harmony,
hoped with broken hearts that took time to heal,
and delayed the correction era of love even more.

I urge you,
don't let love pass you by,
because you simply
waited for him or her to say hi.

I urge you,
listen to the songs of the word,
that gave us the blueprint
forever, ever more.

cause love,
isn't what it used to be..
Mustapha Olokun Oct 2019
came here with joy,
hearing the yearns,
for boliviana and cubana,
these moments are forever special.

my heart cannot be in agony,
other than through the depths
of heartbreak. Because the Lord,
has always given me a song to sing.

I shot my first roll of film today,
taking different perspectives.
breaks from the new world,
because I've always had an old soul.

maybe even ancient.
no wonder whenever I stepped into Cuba,
It was home

my second home.
Encanto, encanto mucho
in my heart there is joy,
just like in the hearts of my people.

Mira, this joy came from my mother,
the same wide open smile,
with the teeth of where we came from,
im forever in love with God, in love with life.

I listened to boliviana,
she told me an important story.
as we celebrated a year of me
being in San Antonio today

I drove through the streets,
in so much jubilance,
worrying not at all,
about the little worries I could dig.

and I sang with the mouth
of my ancestors,
and fixated the spirits of beauty,
in the extremely cool, night air.

Thank you Lord,
Thank you Boliviana,
You brought to me,
the winds of the wave

and I could only wonder,
what history did before history,
and it was singing just like me,
happy, and at that moment . . .
with nothing of need

but the windy latin orchestra,
the hope for more of his creation,
the frames of cuba,
and his gorgeous promise.

and the way my mother sang,
I knew I resembled the same,
leaking the happy spirits,
that sit in the hearts of the joyful.

Boliviana linda come with me,
and lets run into the latin wave.
and when we get to cuba,
we will sit by the shore in Havana
and live in this mysterious joy
Mustapha Olokun Aug 2019
there is a list,
hammered on the land,
treading with,
the souls of man

hoping for solid answers,
driven by survival,
life, and the pursuit
thereof

there is more to it.
in hope.
almost like a cliche word,
slithering in tongues.

but dig my words...
we hope that sun
does not scorch,
our skins to dark

every man
in the same black,
to not make silly
racist remarks.

realizing we all,
were obliterated,
in the the same color,
from the burning lights.

we hope that love
enters our hearts,
authentically, hoping less,
that love comes from within

I hope for the ladies,
that understand the pleasures,
of a righteous man, and at five or seven feet,
height can't determine his loving hand.

I hope that the man,
closes his mouth.
refrains rude words,
from rude hips and behinds.

Hoping that broken hearts,
rejected youths,
and the great poor
receive love in good time.

she hopes for a peaceful day,
he hopes for a peaceful woman.

she hopes for equality.
and he just hopes she will listen.

she hopes for the respect.
hopes for the freedom,
hopes for the needed uncondition.

he hopes for the spark,
the calming spirit,
hopes for the needed uncondition.

I hope, that if they could look up,
they would see love,
a partner, a friend, a fraud,
the truth and the lies.

I hope phones don't take our lives.
already taking husbands and wives,
influencing and neglecting little children,
and damaging minds.

I hope the lonely dont die,
as their loved ones were glued to a device.

I hope my love,
finds its way to a daughter.

I hope we favor each other.
love one another.
and bridge the gap,
and attempt to solve our problems together.
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