Bob Marley Spoken Word                                                                                                                                  5/1/2012
What comes to mind when I say; Bob Marley?

Is it a stereotypical ‘idea’ of a Rastafarian; ***** dreadlocks & *** smoker?
Or is it a …
An intelligent and talented man; who wanted change in a positive way?
   Yeah he had dreadlocks and didn’t see any harm in the herb. That was his apart of his religion and beliefs. You can’t call yourself a true fan if that’s the only reason you’ve liked him because he smoked ***. It’s time to get over that; you need to realize what he truly was about. He gave us knowledge about history, Uplifting and positive rhythms, happiness when you’re down, music to stop us from worrying when shaken and songs of freedom. This man told us powerful messages through his music. This guy was brilliant and I sure as hell don’t think of him as a ***** dreadlocked *** smoking Rastafarian.  Who’s a bad influence on children, most definitely not! Children should listen and gain knowledge. We in the world are lucky to have a man that lived; who still lives in millions of hearts away. I’m glad we had such a wonderful human being he is one of the biggest inspirations to me. I will live to tell messages in my writings that will be a part of history.
-  One Love

raucous bird
you explode in my chest
silver to hit the ones i hide
              in that iron case heart
they're the ones that hurt the most
             daunting fox, her courage escapes;
             swollen knight to suffer by self;
             fallen sun left only to destruction;
             holly saint with her selfish scepter;
but trapped there like stars
only left to implode & destroy
they would only ever be free
         wandering
                                 my
                                               mind.

The filmer's heart:
caught between thieves of
just & wisdom
wrapped in that haunted silk embrace,
with silver metal folded twice to form
that frozen ache of yours
so clear & perfect that you mask it
in glass cages draped in ash
& hidden in walls of lost lovers.
you think I let words of literature
cure my disbelief in you,
that because of lies you make
you'll view the Hare's Ghost,
capture her sorrow twice,
& weave it into the ugly society of your mind,
only to control & demean her.
& while your dementia sets in
those hollow blue eyes,
you'll only be graced with the shadow of what I've
become.