Life, yours in the making
Your salvation is not another hand saving
They lied, you’re of no breed and born alone
That’s why you’re unique and somewhat forlorn

Explore my domain and find yourself
For once, you’re the Main and Man shall delve
You’ll find all elements, resources and money
to craft your elegance  and remorse to your liking
This is something of a must…
Coz’ in the end, it’s just you and no one to trust

What’s in it for me you ask?
I heard loneliness don’t last

The deserts' enigma as the sand tells stories of ancient civilisations, and the open air parallel suggesting stigmas of myth echoing apologies of Asian civil invasions. Wealth and Wisdom buried underground to hide the former faces, and so slow paces to mirages as a Man walks the ground to find the water oasis. Pressures of wind hugging to shape into a tornado, a Mother pushes waters to save the World with a Bambino. The inferno Sun sets on water or falls, crashes like a bashed tomato into lava erupting a volcano, but still rests on the water floor. Seas and Oceans are never cliché, but I feel farfetched where it's forlorn. See the emotions in my tears coz' I feel far attached before born...

Beasts feasting on prey... dishing on the words of Kings who wouldn’t fall to their knees and obey. I could almost hear their young play, as the mother watches with a haunted conscious of a young Fay. Come hither, and perhaps stretch your hands and catch a fire in a desired rizla, coz come winter, these words could be just as banned and burned by some sinner. A barefoot impaired but reaching for that stepping stone far from a mile, where manhood is shred but brothers keep breaching and stretching jail bars to a smile. Singing psalms of liberation in the blazing Sun of the plantations, stone-bashing patience and building railway stations never brought any justice or emancipation to the nation. Hence, Brothers found sense in taking a chance for the people, using pens from bribed fences illegal, and the library as a class for lessons of the Eagle. Unseen revolutionary pages and books smuggled through visitations, vice or versa... Brothers battered to solitary cages for sharing books of the struggle through imitations, Life of a hustler. Many of them died, because many others spied for the other side, despite loyalty. I guess with every Field Hero outside comes a yield ***** inside royalty. Retrospect, read and see what Malcolm reprimanded fallacy like the Big Six for, then introspect your creed and if you believe, welcome this reminded policy like the 46664...

Seeing my Grandmother still giving unconditional love…
Amazing high waters, I’m still keeping my head above
The body of a beautiful woman floating…
Can’t recall the face of the man boating
His salvation, in the hands of a Man running on water
As I’m showered away in a trance, coming to wake-up

A brilliant thought titled, my old friend told me to reshuffle before I write this. Touching humans with souls, be a friend or foe, I’m drawing this prose for those who were never told. Scared of being good coz being bold means bravery, Biko told me it could be repercussions of slavery. Forgive me, where’s my manners, let this be forever…I bet you’d rather hear what this has to do with the latter. What’s new? Signing future deals with the devil and smashing each other blue, can’t blame the Djs for scratching another Rhythm & Blues. Living like forever is promised, ins and outs, drinking high as long as my steps are polished. Put my chick on my payroll, so she doesn’t turn around and play ball. Same time, same eye on the vultures, busy eyeing my plate planning to scavenger my vouchers. Going to work building careers for Fridays and better Fridays, monotonous times with guerrilla peers for highways but never like gays. An agitating pain in my back, I miss the days of shooting hoops. Now the game has changed, I guess it’s time to rally the troops. Hoping I’m praying as I’m living through Everyday Thinking, regretting the white lies protecting the future of this everyday sinning. More kids still dying in the newspapers while the rest don’t even read, bad awes still killing our peacemakers while the rest think we’re free…