He was my guide
My teacher
And all the lessons lost
Then learned again
This world has a way
Of laying you flat on your back
We have a way
Of lifting our legs in the air

When we are the ones should be doing the *******

He was a shaman
A ghetto Hammurabi
And when the night is too dark
And the truth too stark
And I don't want to play my part
I heed his words
His wisdom

I remember what he said
"**** this ****,
I need some chees"
How very profound

Baptized to be a martyr
of sour lyricism, I am
immolated to the lavish denial.
Inconceivable,
waiting for mid- September,
hunting season is open,
here in the limbo of jade falls
I’m a prayer of not allowed harmonies.
No use in trying to exalt
every single bit of black twinkle.
Enviable,
devoted to light,
the glaze rainbow prays,
shocked by the fantasy
of so much epic adventures,
in which, repentant,
feeling terrifically safe.