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 Aug 2016 Skyy Blu
Kata
So many things I try to tell you
So many things I try to say
But my words all fall like empires
On a sea of dead white wood
.
.
.
I've written words
Most about you
A few you'll read
None you'll know are for you
 Aug 2016 Skyy Blu
Kata
Her voice tastes just like
Childhood memories
Joyfully lonely
Vividly sweet with a sour pinch of grazed knees
It burns with flavour
And I think I want to love her
It could be the coffee talking
▶️Micheal Kiwanuka X The Final Frame
they are connected
by a continual rye
these peoples dwelling
under the infinite sky*

they've handed down
native culture
to generations
that live for nature

the eagle
the bison
the wolf
carry their spirit
across the nation's terrain
ever these animals
shall abide and sustain

the spruce
the prairie grass
the cactus
lasting with the growth
of a land's deed
long they've planted
the tribal man's breed

flourishing
in the mountains
and along rivers
of timeless tradition
indigenous
kinfolk preserving
their heritage
on a millennial expedition

tepees still built
to this very day
a peoples country
*inherited of clay
 Aug 2016 Skyy Blu
Eric L Warner
My written words are a true reflection of myself.
Stop reading the words, and look at them close.
They don’t follow grammatical rules a lot of the time, and they don’t believe in ******* censorship.
They don’t believe in editing, re writing, or organizing.
They are a jumbled mess of run on sentences with no controlling rules or principles to give order to.
And I love to break even the most deeply rooted rules, like not starting a sentence with And or But.
Seriously, words are my weapons and I can cut through the ******* and break through to a higher meaning.
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