cammo

I'm swimming in blue cammo
Eyes closed
a vision within.

(Just holding each breath)

A million bubbles
trapped beneath
a sealed and silent
surface. My lips. Languid desire.
                                                  (I can feel them/behind my eyes)
Blue and black
Shades of grey                            (sweet disguise)
myriad moments
uncoloured by time                      (in blue, everything is you, disguised)

Only trapped like lime
in stone.

I cant breathe when i'm swimming in you.

Kicked into the mud
Stomped on
Submerged
No river in which to cleanse
Caked on completely
Perfection disappeared
Becoming one with the woods
A product of environment
Born for greatness
Forged into......nothing

We ate eggs
And layed in bed
And ******
Whilst looking
At the view
Nothing to do
Other than stare
And care
Captured
And fulfilled
Within each others eyes.
Oysters
And bomb-diving
Seagulls
And Scissor for hands
Without any sound.

Kodak moments
And dressups
Like cowboy
Dapper dan’s
And pomenade.

Coffee and Belgium beer bars
And pirates with patches for eyes.

Silver trayed room service
And a mat for our feet at the side
Of our bed.
And daddy’s boy
With a cammo ****
Underneath
A Cheshire grin

And for five
Short hours
We walked
And talked
And were kept
Enthralled
By the allure
Of retail
Therapy

We accessorised
As if fashion
Were to cease tomorrow
Silver and tins
And etchings in time.
Then tie pins and scarves
And hats with wide brims.

We were lost
In a city of
Bright lights
And street art
And didgeredo’s
And bag ladies with more
Luggage
Than Sydney international terminal.

Bell boys
And valet
And privacy lights
Respite and
2 nights
of enjoying each day
from the
25th floor

love it or hate it
im underappreciated
hard to be a black man
when the world is under
cover fans yea i got bands
but they dont make me dance
**** al jolston n al sharpton
im a protege of malcolm and martin
xd out my birth name and reclaim my name
**** the fame and a ***** dame
hard to maintain
the wisdom embedded in my brain
used to push *******
10 piece with a biscuit
gold ds on the regal it was illegal
but thats the only way i can make real.money
like the federal banks
somethin' stinks
cuz im attitude is bad n rude
no  longer a foolor mule brought my own rules
to the art of war millions died
and nobody cries
when africa under attack
but yellin' isis in paris i say **** paris
they aint scared of us
but when we bust be prepared
we wipe out themust
n get off scotch free in my society
dont give a **** about any
the law they can keep eyein me
but ya gone know me homie
hate it or love it


as the world goes round and round
like my gold ds hitting the ground
i see hate all around astound
by my critics but they get nothing but crickets
aftet the meal ticket
used to be the nicest but now i turned wicked
feelin like pac did
me against the world
all i have is my son and my girls
so **** the diamonds n the pearl
my only interest are is guns ammo and few homies in cammo
whos down for the war quick to gut open ya brain til it pours
out nothing but blood
but we aint all blood
some gotta die no lie
prayers said to the sky
i get no answers only more questions
smith n wesson testing
from the teachings of a b panther as i expand tha
horizon like heat rising
sweat coming down ya cheek
no guisin'
take notes from wise guys
who lies deep behind enemy lines
still hunger for the grind
**** the one time
take a sip of the moonshine
blunts by the dime time after time
ill be right there
if ya hold me down like
like bone did St Clair and clear
out the madness my mind trapped in this game
through thick n thin gotta watch the paradigms of the djinn
cuz you could be locked in
and not now ya conscious
blinded by the nonsense
i get joy'd from reading comments
from haters n imitators
them.******* only make me greater as i stated
you can love it or hate it

I gained
And maybe
So did you
My gain is obvious
At least to me
If you gained anything
You won’t let me see

After school aftermath time to change up our current habitat.
After school rhyming like fools, but **** us ******* if we don't act like tools.
There are times where a person has to forget how to give a ****,
And times where you have to make sure that people understand that life truly *****.
No more morals, I will no longer be loyal, strapping on my aluminum hat made out of tin foil.
Everything is a conspiracy, but no one wants to listen to me; Too bad that they don't see that we live in the matrix, everyone is plugged into a false reality.
Son from Zion, son made of ions, forcing out the machines with my inner midi-chlorian.
Fe-fi-fo-phom goliath you ain't got none son,
All you got is fists and I have a fully automatic tommy gun. Pow pow shot down, all them haters I will shoot down, because to me all you phonies are a bunch of demented clowns.

Yeah, uh.
Hexagon be going in to this beat, so this is not a time to be taking your seats.
After school aftermath I'll be rhyming all the time like a boss,
In this injustice of a land that nails anyone who speaks out about it onto a cross.
For shame son, I won't be a part of you're little game Mon,
After school aftermath our rap team be representing the nation.
So while the rest of you lost souls be stationed in you're incongruently warped minds,
I'll be taking my time writing these real deep filled lines.
Ok hold up for a minute, I promise I let yawl finish, but I don't think any argument you may have against us would be legitimate.
As many of yawl are stuck in a regimented mindset for the government’s benefit.
We be stressing on real deals, we be giving out hope to people to help them deal with their messed up ordeals.
Can you feel the decay of the system we live in?
But there is still time to change it in our favor so we can win.  
After school aftermath time to get out the war drums and the trumpets, this is a time to be chaotic instead of being a dainty mistress like Ms. Muppet.
It’s about time we say **** it!
This is a time for change, this is a time to be strange, and this is a time to write a new page.
This is a time to rearrange our thinking,
Cause our society is like the Titanic because we be sinking.
We are better than this,
And though there may never be bliss,
I will be remised,
If never we really tried to at least take risks.
I believe that we would no longer be slowly sinking in this world that is stinking.

Yo, t-dogg is in the house are guys ready?
Let's go off,
Cause I really want to go off,
It’s time for the blow off,
That’s burns brightly like a Molotov,
To all you haters that are still out there can *******.
It is Mr. Supra HD you bet your ***** me and Classy J are super indeed.
Going straight for the knees,
Got no time for your petty pleas,
This is the after school aftermathso you bet we be running even it’s a 100 decrees,
This is real rap so bet we won’t keep it simple and clean.
Got to roll up them sleeves,
And set sail for sea,  
In a world full of boy toys we refuse to sell out,
End up in jail needing bailouts.  
Classy j and Hexagon and me be the stand outs,
Saving rap because if I’m honest it’s been in a drought.
So, although yawl might treat like Dumbo’s
We hit you with that Konami Code, Wambo Combo!
Going in like Rambo, Never running out ammo,
Stealth **** like the Predator even if you’re wearing Cammo.
Want some advice, don't mess with us, Stay in your lane and avoid the fuss.

America

I saw people crying gas, shedding rubber bullets, while sinking under the law

America you act as you missed a mark and they are essential to a red dot on a forehead.

Target me if you will.

You colored me sour milk long ago.

Spoiled eggnog at room temperature on a consumerist Christmas morning.

And that makes people like me rotten to you.

**** your brand
and expiration,
**** your synthetic hormones.
**** your led.

Take back your cammo and trauma.

America everyone watched you hold him under knee for 7 mins on YouTube.
Pleading to let go,
Gas tears justice out of their sockets and breathe.

America you watched men go to prison and didn’t protest.

America you are more concerned over buying Christmas out of toilet paper.

America there isn’t a **** good intention you won’t red line into the direction of hell.

America why did it take two months for a black man to jog into news relevance?

Why did I learn just last year about a book that directed my friends grandparents to where it is safe to drive their family or go on trips to avoid trouble?

America who writes history?

America, why are you always confused and looking at me, wondering who I am talking about?

Always a privilege to forget and then sweep.

It’s always my privilege to just sleep.

My privilege to watch them die in safety.

My privilege to watch them be detained.

My privilege to only write about it

And my privilege to watch it not be me.

The milk is burning and there is pepper in my lungs.

I tuned out Americana
and gave my knee with Colin
and held up my fist.
And my friends.
And I held them into the air
and showed you they exist.

They are you.
You are them.

America you were there and watched me hold him

And saw his eyes rolled back,

Dripping with milk.

America you gasped and covered your masked mouth with me.

You flinched as you saw the boy in my hands.

Such a young boy.

He breathed and cried gas.

And he still demanded more.

In his eyes,

milk white.

He wanted more.

He wanted to be back in there.

But America you wanted more,
and swept the milk and black under the rug.

Body shaped mounds under your towns foyer rug.

No wonder why you trip every other step and it costs so much.

America, why is 12 and 13  embroidered on it?  How much for that?

Why do you wear boots indoors and why do they look licked clean?

America why only one month of excellence is allowed when it’s everyday?

Does economics have to have victims?

Where do you get the money for the rugs but not the streets?

It wasn’t self made and stop saying it was.

It was billions of lives stolen and
now  money is no good.

We don’t take chips off of black backs.

We will not rehabilitate your withdrawal from slavery.

America this is only one symptom.

America you are diagnosed and the rug is molding, stiff rigor Mortis

You are and will always be
Rustin,
Johnson,
Young,
X and King.

You are and always will be
Floyd,
Meech,
Harris the 3rd,
Meek Mills,
And Bland.

America you took black and used it for green.

So why do you keep shooting yourself?

What did preparing for war do for peace?

On whose tab?

Did you need blood to ink a dollar?

Or you milking me for it?

America you gun pointed porches and red dotted foreheads,

while they stood hand-in-hand on court steps between your blue lives with black lives risking what matters.

America when will you call this a suicide attempt?

We are sick of being depressed and you are a tree with many branches blacking the sun.

Are you gonna hang with them this time, America?

Or take score beneath a moldy rug you have the privilege of walking all over?

America, the rug doesn’t even cover the floor.