The nights are
filled with corrupt
doctors and cops.
Justice, like a dog bite.
Madmen prey on
the weak and needy.
This seedy town ain't got
nothing for me.
I'm heading out west,
get a longboard
ride the breeze, and
taste the waves...
all the way to
Hawaii baby.

Sad to say.,
There's a portion of me
that's still feeling like I'm -trapped-
In
Now..
Am I totally lacking the con-fi-dence?
And its not by any typical blow to my
" Ego " or by any
Ac-ci-dent
Taken in and out of context
sorta like the excess of many accents
Feel'n I'm from another
Con-ti-nent
( Yeah ) So I guess you can say.. that my
current  per-so-na-li-ty is quite the
Op-po-site  of
" Freedom's  Plight "               ( books )
That is based on a quote from a ( note* ) that's deceivingly not
" Gift " wrapped
Thinking that I'm not.. wrapped to tight
Out of sight like a  cold - - - swipe
Though my insight in hindsight  seemingly be
Cold- as- Ice
As I'm steady  catching these fades off of  -two- blades
the fall is displayed
/ Artistically /
Perpendicular to the perfect picture
An illustration that I must of-- slipped
Up
All clinched up with both my fist  Up
And now my up side is.. Down
With both my feet above my - head -
Can't seem to place my feet  back on the
- ground -
And when I really think about it?
It has always been ( Me ) against the world
Cause when I turned my back on it?
I was caught lacking while slip'n
Falling back into my old
Skin
But the fault is neither a Black or White
" Thing "
I'm currently talkin bout a mixed.. blend
Just as these thoughts un-hinge to these new
-Sins-
And that's  regrettably.. the time I would hate to lend
while peeling back the fore-
Skin
( Smh )
Now tracing back to the quote.,
Lost in time  like a faded note.. endorsement
Bottled up with.. distortion
Forced to make a choice.. Truth or Dare?
Not- a- Fair
Spin
While currently  not liking how the " Truth "
bends
And that's when.. you are
in-discriminate-ly are shedding light at.. both
ends.. to possibly ( no end  ) to see an
-End-
And it's
Pain--staking-ly because
I'm so sick and tired  of tying up these..  loose.. ends
For Justice?
For Justice?
Has not been served
Cause everyday
I feel I'm being black balled systematically
like a.. bow-ling
Pin
But the only difference is between -Me- and
" Them "
is the color of my  Black
Skin
And that's  even when
I choose to go.. qui-et--ly
as I switch.. lanes
Cause at the end of the day?
I would still be.. just another  Black
Man
Who's humbly living this life the best way that only ( He )
Or should I say?
As only I.. can
Not focusing on the next.. Man
For my only focus now.. is ( Yah ) the God of Heaven
And my bread of choice is  un-leavened
And his eye is  truly on the
Spar--row   ➡  ( spare "/" row )
Peep*   the Arrow
And now..
The only pathway I'll take for the means of e-scape
For me?
Is Narrow

Let the dead carry the weight of you
when the road is long,
the climb too steep

—worn treads, bare threads—

out of time
in place.

A bereaved mother's touch to guide you,
an empty hand to hold

when you're on the brink
of a faltering jump to the sidewalk
she is right there with you
to lift you
over the deep mud, the oily puddles.

In that dark mirror
let her show you the shattered faces
of the ones taken
without sense or justice

but still here with you,

still here
in a world seen through her eyes
for what it was

and for all it can be.

Ukrainians deserve peace
but don't Palestinians do too?

Pardon me if my plea for justice
brings light to your double standards.

Did you notice the crisis going on outside,
It’s terrible really they’re trying to hide
Atrocities behind a wall of big lies
The badness of this is incredibly sized.

So get out and help, you useless ****,
Shout and whisper you absolute schmuck,
March and stamp and tiptoe around red tape,
Call it ****** harassment, but I wouldn’t call it ****,
Donate and berate but most of all-

**** THE GOVERNMENT,

(Tenderly, like a lover, to not upset the way of things of course.)

Why aren’t you looking for missing kids
Why aren’t you crying at the dead body
Why aren’t you saying what Russia forbids
Why aren’t you crying at the dead body
Why aren’t you aching from every pore
Why aren’t you crying at the dead body
Why aren’t you saving all of the ******
Why aren’t you crying at the dead bodies
Why aren’t you giving your money to us?
Why, aren’t you someone the people can trust?

Did you notice the crisis going on within,
It’s terrible really, a huge massive din
Is crashing and smashing alone in your head
You can’t ever stop, unless you are dead.

Oh wait, you posted a brightly coloured infographic on your instagram story?
You’re good, never mind.

The arc is long and it bends towards -
and then away and seems to circumvent the gateway to better, to truer and rather it dips and, for some unfathomable reason, detours through bone aching drivel which we sit through lest we cause offence and in defence we smile until someone offers a glass and we can distract the conversation to something real and relevant and alive – preferably with alcohol.

The arc is long and it bends towards -
and then it rainbows, so you’d think that there’d be no excuse but to look up and wonder at the way in which each colour blends, leaving no distinct edge, no start or finish, leaving you in no doubt why spectrum is an apt term to capture diversity with harmony, and leaving you staring curiously while the world walks on, heads down, focusing on the familiarity of their grey, woollen comfort zones.

The arc is long and it bends towards -
the other side, it crosses divides, where bridges were long fractured, and diversions had left the land desolate - and now we can repopulate, reconnect and proliferate something that binds a kindlier fraternity wedded to justice indiscriminately.

The arc is long,
bending, not broken.

The children are not safe
If their lives are not secure
Their schools their homes
And their homes their lives

Let's say:
"No children's kidnapping"