A harbinger he was born
a puppet to dirt  farmers in the
fatalistic empires of lost liberty
He spent his boyhood drifting  in aimless
pursuit of a less broken home
but his past eats him from within

His greedy grasping hand is fear
with self indulgent dark eyes he
comes to my haven and bringing
his hand in tow and lays its sweaty meat
on my soul
Its cold dead feel crawls down my spine
like migration of hope to forgotten places

He is a mirthless man
the trumpeter in the parade of dying
quests to find a better future
He is preaching his own brand of God
from the poorhouse soapbox
shouting wildly with his hands
he is a small man in a tall frame
who feeds on poverty of pocket and soul
preys on the weak and unwary
he is a apothocary to the souless

only when i look through The Eyes of God am I at peace,otherwise nothing else makes sense,nothing else matters.why?there's nothing else Mathers,Marshall law we were all mislead by indoctrinated Fathers,who sought to turn us into martyrs,for entertainment only like the top five NBA starters,consumed with keeping up with the carters n catering to you haters simply by having goals that's greater,keeping faith til one glorious day Sandy comes and meets me standing in the breeze blowing trees , wind and rain set my mind at ease,caught in a storm lost in a whirlwind my head spins tilted in a dribble passing the days,still giving thanks "forever"until the day I'm carried over to the center of the suns rays...finally i see the light...yet i remain the same so many things on the brain lost,grounded,clueless;stuck like a bird in the rain.

If ever I stumble upon your soul
I will find a way to let you know
and I'll do my best to give it to you
so that you and your soul can travel through
this crazy life united as one--
as a souless life seems (somehow) so undone...