"maverick" poems
“Study everything, join nothing”
- The Maverick Philosopher
Hindi naman masamang siyasatin ang mga bagay-bagay na may kinalaman sa ating buhay-buhay. Ayos lang na basahin ang lahat ng aklat na gusto **** basahin basta’t makakatulong ito para makamtan mo ang iyong mga hangarin. Ayos lang na sumabay sa hangin o kaya naman ay tumakbo sa buhangin siguraduhin mo lang na hindi ka mahuhulog sa bangin.
Minsan ka lang mabubuhay at hindi na muling babalik ang kabataan, karapatan mo na pag-aralan ang lahat ng gusto **** mapag-aralan. Hindi mo kailangan na pumasok sa paaralan at magbayad ng pagkamahal-mahal na tuition fee, hindi mo kailangan maki-tropa sa mga bolakbol o kaya naman ay makipag-plastikan sa mga pantas na kung tawagin ay propesor.
Magbasa ka at huwag umasa, hawak mo ang iyong buhay kaya’t hindi mo ito dapat na iasa. Kumasa ka kung kinakailangan upang hindi maging alipin ng sinoman. ‘Hwag **** antayin na turuan ka ng iba, turuan mo ang iyong sarili. Ok lang na maging makasarili basta’t kaya **** dalhin ang iyong sarili. Kumbaga wala naman masama na magsarili gamit ang iyong daliri.
Basta ito lang ang payo ko: ‘wag **** sayangin ang ngayon. Wala sa organisasyon ang tunay na pundasyon. Ang karunungan ay hindi isang donasyon, pinaghihirapan ito tsong. At wag **** sabihin na masyado ka pang bata o di kaya naman ay matanda na’t huli na ang lahat. Walang malambot at walang makunat sa coconut na handang matuto.
Panghuli gusto ko tandaan mo ito. Ang buhay ay hindi isang magandang panaginip hindi rin ito isang masamang bangungot. Ang buhay ay buhay, ganon lang kasimple, ‘wag **** gawing kumplikado. Kung may gusto ka gawin mo, kung ayaw mo naman edi ‘wag. Ika nga walang sapilitan kasi wala ka naman kapalitan ang importante ay matuto ka saiyong bawat ngayon.
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 8:14 PM UTC
May I present a challenge?
Imagine if you will
You have created a flying explosive device
And it needs a name that will thrill.
A name, a good name, which name?
Well, none of those below.
Some twisted suits have already used them.
**** EVEN Tacit Rainbow.
What really goes through their minds?
As they sit and discuss the name
Of their creation that's destined to ****
Butcher, destroy and maim.
Just try if you can
To read the whole of this edited list
Imagine how many have exploded of each
With out angrily clenching your fist
Little John
Honest John
Hellfire
Matador
HARM
Terrier
Nike-Ajax
Corporal
Sea Sparrow
Redstone
Bullpup
Mace
Nike-Hercules
Regulus II
Atlas
Thor
Lacrosse
Jupiter
Quail
Hawk
Tartar
Falcon
Polaris
Hound Dog
Pershing
Entac
Firebee
Shelduck
Jayhawk
Cardinal
Firefly
Petrel
Redhead/Roadrunner
Redeye
Mauler
Skybolt
Nike Zeus/Spartan
Condor
Phoenix
Typhon MR
Falconer
Overseer
Taurus
Kingfisher
Cardinal
Walleye
Hornet
Maverick
Big Q
Minuteman
Blue Eye
Viper
Firebolt
Bulldog
Harpoon
Focus
Perseus
Firefly
Stinger
Compass Dwell
B-Gull
Agile
Seekbat
Delta Dagger
Thunderbolt[7]
Patriot
Aquila
Teleplane
Streaker
Tomahawk
Firebrand
Roland
Peacekeeper
Penguin
Pave Tiger/Seek Spinner
Sidearm
Skipper
Wasp
Sea Lance
Ripper[7]
Trident II
Midgetman
Tacit Rainbow
Pave Cricket
Have Nap
Peregrine
Exdrone
Javelin
Pointer
Hunter
Coyote
Skeeter
Outlaw
Wow, you're still reading
And you've managed not to throw up.
Just wondering how many innocent victims
Of a tax funded device called Bullpup.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 7:00 PM UTC
Maverick ex-cop (Green Beret /Navy Seal /SAS/Ranger)
Twiddle of the fingers to crack a 64 bit hexadecimal code
Shot but can still beat up bad people and run
15 people firing automatic weapons and they all miss
Database that searches the planets population in 2 seconds
And has photos of their children and plans of their building
Regardless of the crime scene sample, always a rare element that pinpoints location
Car chase where a truck can keep up with a Ducati motorbike
Organisations that only employ attractive people in lead roles
Ugly people are tech specialists sometimes allowed to be ‘quirky’
Even the uglies are attractive people disguised with glasses and bad hairstyles
‘I dream of genie’ gendre were they flirt but never get it on, unless it’s a hospital series
Watchable, funny programs that always succumb to sloppy sentimentality
High schools complete with intolerance, marginalisation, bullying, and hell on earth,
The most disturbing and darkest crime sent to titillate mid evening family viewing
Endless humiliation for fatties, chefs, performers, builders, restaurateurs, and troubled teens
Dysfunctional law enforcement agencies that never work together under any circumstances
Enough, if we need this thick coating of unreality, perhaps its time to switch off?
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 5:34 PM UTC
Maverick Don’t Panic
A Bad Boy,
with a good Heart,
at the tail end,
of a head start,
“Oh he’s prolific,
he’s profanic,
he’s depressed,
he’s manic,
he’s processed,
he’s organic,
he meditates and sits,
when he just can’t stand it,
and remember this is just a test so for the love of God please don’t panic,
or take anything for granted,
**** it,
I’m a good kid,
but got some bad habits,
got a good plan too,
just have to enact it,
bad,
but not the baddest,
and if they want it,
they can have it,
the map is,
my plan and,
in other words,
the Atlas is how I Nav this,
a Maverick,
like Cuban,
not Gooding no Sir.,
no Jr. a señor,
well not in age but in position,
in other words they’re minor leagues and we’re major,
a Maverick,
like Cuban,
not Gooding no Sir,
no Jr., a señor,
like Mark,
Zuckenberg,
a stark,
contrast between Comcast,
in other words,
Light & Dark are different castes,
in communications at least,
ComCast Communications Caste,
same waves just different frequencies,
in the sea,
the internet catches,
big fish and small fry,
Dark Shadows and Bright Lights,
right?…
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 6:44 PM UTC
Shintaro, Shintaro, O Shintaro
hero, samurai, loner, onmitsu
maverick, defender, O lover of justice
Shintaro walks with grace
Shintaro’s life is concentration
and quiet, peace and silence
Shintaro is skill and perfection
Shintaro is protector of child
woman and the poor and the orphans
the weak, the helpless
and of any who has been wronged
Shintaro, Shintaro, O Shintaro
hero, samurai, loner, onmitsu
maverick, defender, O lover of justice
the ninjas come
like speeding stars
one after another
secret killers
with weapons of death
but none can beat Shintaro -
Akikusa Shintaro, master of peace and stillness
Samurai who sees with his being
Shintaro, Shintaro, O Shintaro
hero, samurai, loner, onmitsu
maverick, defender, O lover of justice -
you live in time
you live in mind
Nov 13, 2011
Nov 13, 2011 at 8:21 PM UTC
#
*The finest meaning of 'Wholeness'..
Is shown most fully within the intertwining
in to the pivotally and most necessary
healing of both body and mind..
In that
the perfect expression of Spirit here on Earth
can only happen through the physical--
You "feel" the Receptives and/or the Urgings
from deep within you (your flesh wrapped spirit),
That are only brought out into the light of day (made known)
the moment your very tangible fingers touch the keyboard..
Or up close..
the tangibly-heard sound your very voice-tones,
Created by your so very tangible vocal cords-- made unique
by how deeply infused your spirit is into that
beautiful mind and body of yours..
By your ever-renewed
and continual choice to heal.
Within that beautiful union, the Sensings and Respondings
of the body bring impulses into the spirit..
touching deeper, the Core--
The "Image" of Perfect, Absolute Being
placed deeply into each and every one of us..
by the very nature of Love's Ache--
Residing within the center of this Universe..
(and all other Universes).. both known..
and those also yet to be..
..An Image placed, as to be a Plumb-line,
and also a Never-ending Cinematic placement of the View
onto (and within) the inner-wall linings
of both mind and spirit..
..Seen in greater and greater "less dimly-lit" degrees,
based solely on how far we commit ourselves along,
and in to, the healing process.
In its finest form, through healing,
the things we take in.. through feeling;
and then express back out..
from both mind, and body's untethered Unfolding,
..Becomes closer and closer
to the very Expression of God's own heart,
..Therefore smashing through, and gorgeously undoing
the ever- quenching.. ever-diluting nature of Subjectivity, itself.
Hmm..
The "taking in" and then The Tremblings, of your body's
unavoidable responses are the very thing most 'maverick loners'
like me need most from another in this world,
if we are to continue on in our mission with any kind of strength..
(along with its much desperately-needed resolve).
If, within the "taking in" process.. the beautifully feeling
Receivers such as yourself, were to be overcome
to the point of release~ all alone.. on the edge of your bed..
isn't that a very understandable and nearly unavoidable
and also so very very tangible part of the process also..
--In itself
above and outside of all human (and Heavenly) judgement?
Carry on, sweet Angel..
and so gorgeously continue to be who you are.
Those that can see.. see (and feel) most clearly.*
I see you.
#
Aug 12, 2023
Aug 12, 2023 at 8:19 PM UTC
Two Hearts Beat as One
Undeniably magnificent
Open-heart despair
Tougher rhythm dominating bonded purpose
I Fall Down
Can't wait to get to Berlin
Short-sided bravado
Notably lacking comparison
The edge of nihilism
It's New Year's Day,
And Sunday ****** Sunday
Matured maverick solider
Exact achievements contrary to empathetic aspirants
Reunion in October
Temporarily divided by faith
Undeniable spiritual optimism
Victory, complete ardor
Promising and passionate
Rejoice in optimistic reunion
Two hearts beat out of control
Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 3:54 AM UTC
free-floating, untethered
like a chimney-sweep orphan
it swirls alone in space
no star nearby, no system to call it home
free, wandering, swaying to a symphony of
embracing silence
there are possibly millions
these drifters, these mavericks, rogues
sub-stellar, not mainstream
no pull on each
not your usual planet
with position, star-bound and mooned
but a maverick, free, solitary
untethered, untethered, indie planet
in no one’s sway
….a maverick, it does it all its own way….
Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 5:30 AM UTC
Desired to be more attuned with idols
Their private lives gleaned from
Stills and moving images cutting swaths across
Skyscraping billboards, TV screens
The sides of passing buses
Subway cars headed deeper in,
Further in, beneath
Magazine spreads pulled out for
ad-hoc posters taped and tacked across
the plaster-sputtering suburban drywall paths
Like screams in arctic winds
Many, the young mean-spirited things
Wanting kinship with these enemies
Trying to plot a course to
**** diagonally-up across
their strident wildlife scenes
Attuned with idols riding their
phantom wavelengths with the
maverick assistance of Reds and
water-cut pints of irish whiskey
Then Father comes in proclaiming
to have saved our democracy on
the whim of a lever-pull upon
a municipal voting machine
No interruptions now please
I will direct the favors of my unborn
I am honed in on what really matters:
Hemingway hedonism.
Getting dead with generations
slinking in and out of frame
from before and after
me
Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 2:25 PM UTC
A Brittish psychedelic
Benjamin Button.
Maverick explorer
54 years young.
A groovy dude connected to Dahab since the 70's.
Sure doesn't hurt he knows the folks who own the land.
A kindly herb surgeon, the man knows how
to live, give and roll a spliff.
Enjoyed your company
swapping stories and smokes.
Keep on,
hang loose
and be cool.
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 6:24 AM UTC
A leitmotif of your average smug **** is a proverb here and there.
Spouting them off like the receptor has no care.
Their evidential naivety is blatant and almost impossible to bear.
As an audience member you can do nothing but hide your malevolence and stare.
******* in maxims that are apparently laced with benevolence and care.
You know the kind of oxygen waster I’m referring to.
The type of person that watches BBC 4 and likes tofu.
The kind that does the Financial Times So-fucking-Do-Ku.
Look I’m just saying that clichés annoy me.
I’m not asking you to love me, give me a reach around or employ me.
In fact you don’t even have to enjoy me as I tell you of things that matter not.
Suture yourself hypothetically to a geographically different mind. That mind being mine, oh that maverick-esque mischievous mind of mine, looking at this from my perspective.
In my transcendental endeavours to rid the clichéd ridden world of the afore mentioned adjective.
In the opposite of anachronistic times, we might successfully, surreptitiously rid the world of moral coated rhymes.
We can do this; all it takes is a few. One of which needs to be you.
Break out from being solipsistic, even the blind, the meek, the autistic, those that besmirch the edge of coffee cups with their lipstick.
Yes, I mean you. Here is what to do…
The next time someone spouts off a cliché, punish them, make them listen to an album by “Hearsay.”
If someone says “An Apple a day keeps the doctor away.” Then simply say, Steve Jobs had thousands and the here’s the definite answer, that consumerism inducer still died of cancer.
If a woman says “When I say jump. You say how high!” Don’t even cogitate to pardon her.
If the grass is always greener on the other side – shoot your ******* gardener.
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 8:03 PM UTC
Which dreams do not knock,
That doorway was my vision,
More than my spoken words,
My silent innings were there,
But whence your feet came,
Thence my world is on the move.
The place of God was empty in my heart,
I observed your face in there today.
I am that maverick cloud long lost,
Which settled finally upon your sky.
If you are the soul then let me be the body,
Let me be your lifelong shadow.
If you tell me to then I will only be a recluse,
Else if you tell me I'll be your glamour.
You are the accompaniment, I am the melody,
You are the night, I am the moonlight.
The place of God was empty in my heart,
I observed your face in there today.
I am that maverick cloud long lost,
Which settled finally upon your sky.
Let stars be merciful to us,
Let fulfilled every desire be.
The ones we kindled together,
Let a newborn life be ours.
Let our small house be filled,
No evil eye should disturb us.
The place of God was empty in my heart,
I observed your face in there today.
I am that maverick cloud long lost,
Which settled finally upon your sky.
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 7:29 AM UTC
that hat seller
he’s a Maverick
itinerant, wanderer
no monkey business
no dependence, his own man
busy, he has one thing to do:
to sell his hats
*Hats, hats, hats
hats for sale
Blue hats, black hats,
gray ones -
will lend you some dignity
while on your heads*
they’d not want to help him
they liked to brand him
so he said: **** you,
I’d rather go on my own*
moving from one place
to another
like a masterless samurai, a ronin
no monkey business for him
but the monkeys do come to him
he knows the monkeys
they’re everywhere the same -
pinching, covetous, not giving
but eager hands for taking;
and he throws his own hat down
and the monkeys imitate;
and he collects what is his
and he moves on, as he must
for his work is everywhere
busy, he has one thing to do:
to sell his hats
*Hats, hats, hats
hats for sale
Blue hats, black hats,
gray ones -
will lend you some dignity
while on your heads*
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 8:41 AM UTC
tremors from the albuterol
two puffs was enough
to loosen my chest
after my fourth maverick
cheap smokes
but not cheap enough
to fill you full of fiber glass
and cat **** chemicals
my lungs call me a hypocrite
can't help but agree
i'll get one of those digital cigs
to avoid the nightmare patch
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 2:20 PM UTC
They call me bohemian,
a lost intellectual
hidden with no ambition
A happy go lucky,
who hops and hits
like a river flowing downhill
A philosophical dreamer
with subjective absolutions
unrealistic surreal expectations
They see my eccentric fashion
the chic grease of mismatch
A happenstance of my day's mood
My mind is indigenous
My soul is gender fluid
A vessel of masculinity and femininity
One day, it's a skirt and blouse
The next is a bow tie and shirt
The other is a blend of two
A maverick in a world alone
I felt it all my life, the lack of connection
No motions with the convectional
Their whispers cannot be heard
I am done with biting my nails
Let them pull their hair with their noise
Their chitter and chatter complaints
As I gaze and talk to the floor
weary of their mediocre complaints
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 5:33 PM UTC
My heart sought a home, even when I was in one,
I moved here almost 9 years ago, I gave it my best,
To settle, to adapt, to overcome, to thrive even,
Instead I corroded, I mangled, I survived choiceless;
Through all your lush green and the rain,
I never found real comfort, just a respite,
I suppose I was stupid to expect it at all,
How does one find home in a war?
Nothing has changed, I don't expect it now,
I was just a city boy abandoned far away,
In an land, where I couldn't speak or relate to,
I'm supposed to belong here and I don't;
It's amazing how far I've placed my mind away,
I rarely live in that certain aspect of my existence,
I'm somewhere I don't belong and can't go back,
Where I used to belong no longer belongs to me;
I'm a nomad in a place I'll never understand,
I've grown accustomed to it's people and things,
The tailored familiarity often backfires into me,
I can't be in tune with them or them me,
I'm a child of the Earth, nameless and unbound,
Perhaps there is hope after all, I'm undefined,
Tried to fit in their boxes, gracefully broke all of it,
Maybe I don't fit in anywhere, the wildcard;
I do take great pride in that, it's a badge of quality,
The untamed among the tamed, blessed with chaos,
A mercurial maverick who desires rest and calm,
I'm only a person after all so I hope, I hope, I hope...
Mar 12, 2024
Mar 12, 2024 at 11:21 AM UTC
I'm never really good with words
No, I'm not talking about my vocabulary strength,
nor my ability to string words into a clean knot of similes and oxymorons at a perfect length
where I appease the regulations of grammar,
and please the cynical brains of strangers,
I am talking about the sound trapped beneath the fat folds of my brain,
the trains of thinking, never-blinking, that keep my outcasted thoughts sane,
I am talking about the voice of a teen filled with angst and unfulfillment
hellfire livid, mistaken as tepid, burning inside the sanctuary's core that is my heart lacking of discernment
I'm never really good with words
No, I'm not talking about my skills at spelling,
nor my knowledge of historical people invested in writing
although I could say I, myself, would become history
just because I write in my own disposition and misery,
but what good would that be?
That my pen speaks louder than my voice,
and that a stick of ink triumphs over the blistering fire raging in my ventricles
Are you not entertained?
Seeing me crumble like lava rocks beneath your toes
and soon, I will be one with the ash that aimlessly goes around
and around and around you and the others that detest my will to speak
because apparently I’m a silent know-it-all, too fragile and meek
to survive in an obstacle course that is my existence
Enlighten me,
you people who hold the needles and threads
How dare you ask for my preference of color
if my liberty to speak is dead?
I'm never really good with words,
so maybe it would be better not to say them at all
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 7:23 PM UTC
He asked me for my forgiveness, and I told him he has it. When I was 12 he asked me for my friendship, and I told him it was his. I didn't understand at that time that I was a maverick, nor did I understand that a parent should be more than just friends with their kids. It was another copout. Another way for him to escape the mistakes that his ***** compelled him to make. Thoughts from his smaller head became a disease, murdering the instincts of his larger. One that destroyed his mind and made fair to dawn unto him the status of brain dead. In my childish state I accepted this, not knowing I would have to mature on my own, neglecting the advice of my mother because it came in an aggressive tone, neither understanding that it was my new friends fault that the women I loved and my sole protector was tarnished, dented, and mocked. Used as a semi-sentimental locket, only to be pulled out and loved when he didn't feel love himself. Now I'm 20 years old and he's still in my life. You would think I would have made him take the immediate stage right when he told me he was having another child. No, it was not with my mother. He had lost his locket years prior allowing me to stumble upon it and realize it was never his in the first place. Rather it was mine to protect and polish. This new child was still family though, the blood that races through me and the features of my father that I wish weren't to be were also to be in him. I needed to act. In the years to come I realized it may not have all been my fathers fault. He knew not his father and was forced to live life stumbling around as a lost soul in the misty haze of confusion. Sort of like me but neglected to a further degree. So I took the responsibility to help father this fatherless father in hopes that one day he may become the father I knew he could be. So my brother could have a father instead of a friend and my friend could have a family instead photographs of faces he'd once seen, that only reminded him of the resentment and angst that he'd caused in the souls of those wandering with him in the misty haze of confusion.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 4:00 PM UTC
The sound of my footsteps; a hoping guidance to faith
My sound of breath teaches this blackness I’m alive in fate
The echoes tell me the journey is deep and far from over
My eyes, a drunken blind man, I feel far from sober
Skin is dry and cold, a symptom of no light
But though I’m driven by some divine force to fight
In my mind I ponder, what will the world think if I fail?
In my heart I wonder, how will it feel when I prevail?
This task of greatness shakes my guts
No choice now, I am no more men in huts
I hear drops of past storms telling stories of Maverick
The devil’s poetry, devious and mesmeric
My damp shoes are cold feet, at times I miss Mother’s towel
No more excuses, comfort zone of being fatherless
I continue reciting Tunnel…
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 4:18 AM UTC
(Song for the Genteel Salesman Blocking My Path Each Time)
If only you knew.
Beneath blonde, rebonded locks
Curled extroverted lashes
Cemented titanium dioxide
Plastered patient breathless pores
Lips-wine-red
Nose elongated,
Dark strokes imprudent
Cleopatric windows to
Sadness of soul.
Maverick femininity in
Saccharine swan-like greeting
If only you knew.
Eden was perfect paradise
She who was crafted
Immaculately from your rib
She was your Soulmate
You were Beloved
Protector, keeper,
Nourisher of her being
If only you knew.
You are treasured by Him
Who fashioned you
Out of mud
Breathed life into your nostrils
From nothingness
You were imago dei.
You were anointed shepherd
Of all that lived
Moved; slid.
You were perfect
Majestic in Truth
You were imago dei
As you should have been
And can still be.
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 8:57 AM UTC
Some say she’s a maverick. She refuses to play by the rule, she’d rather create her own rule. Not that much of a rebel, just a bit free-spirited by heart.
Some say she’s a square peg in a round hole. A black dress amidst a wedding party. Ripped jeans among trousers. A pair of sneakers among pairs of high heels. A cup of tequila between white wines. But really, she’s only a misfit. She has always been one. An unorthodox individual living in a world where people must be the same in order to be freed of scrutiny. She isn’t afraid to cross the line of conformity. Even ever since she was little, she has always frowned upon the game of pretentious act that people around her have been playing. She often finds herself in question, for she is non-adhering to the idea of being a sheep flocking to the herd.
Some say she’s the epitome of late night shots taken by the distressed. Not as the last, desperate resort, but as the first aid.
Some say she’s the embodiment of the bitter aftertaste when you sip a cup of coffee that you got from a store stood on the roadside during your impromptu midnight road trip. She shows up by chance, looking plain as ever. But really, she’s a mild surprise once she gets her way into you. One that you might not expect.
Some say she’s a thorn wire disguised in vineyard. It isn’t quite easy to strip away of her self-defense. But once she’s provoked, she’s provoked.
Some say she’s a train wreck. And boy, weren’t they right. Her life might be a mess, but it is one hell of a beautiful mess she’s proudly living. If anything, she has mastered the art of living in perpetual, concomitant tragedies.
Some say she’s more of a goodbye than a hello. A bittersweet memory than a sugarcoated present. She’s never one of a dreamer, but she puts her hopes in the beauty of imperfections – of the feeling of loss. Experience has taught her not to make people her happiness, for they are but a fleeting moment of enchantment.
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 8:10 AM UTC
i am a daredevil for walking
down the yellow line all the
way home, until i remember
my road doesn't have one.
i am a maverick because i
notice little things like the
resemblance of a fire pistol
trigger to gold and nickel.
i am a boy because i have
not reached manhood.
i am a god because i do
not believe.
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 3:01 PM UTC
Silence is golden,
And I am breaking the barriers,
Silence in golden,
And I am coming with the chariots,
Silence is woven,
And I am untying the labyrinth,
Silence is golden
Call me a maverick,
Silence is broken
And I am bleeding the floor,
Silence is golden,
I am like a fly knocking the door,
Silence is olden
I am rewriting the history,
Silence is golden,
I am unfolding a mystery,
Silence is interwoven
The message is subliminal,
Silence is golden,
But keep your words minimal,
Silence is golden
Every night I turn a criminal,
Silence is golden,
Every verse is pivotal,
Silence is golden,
For those willing to prey,
Silence is golden,
Only for those who don't know what to say*
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 1:40 PM UTC
Spirit fooled, my roots are blue now…
a birth insemination façade, it’s all really just a departure station
Blood is overrated like heirlooms now,
my earth interpretation of the Son is really just a miniature statue
From good to bad, popped the lid off by shoplifting,
Coz’ I’m from the hood and glad I can prop what I pulled off by uplifting.
This conniving side, Kundalini said it’s critical…
I remember the pain of discomfort in jail...
Sleeping inside that biting minky next to a Criminal clustered my praying effort to make bail. Spitting fire across with rage, the only love I can feel is from my Mother, so beware of blind fury...My Siblings’ wires are crossed with age, they only love what they can feel from Matter and Affairs , as if bewitched by Muti. I don’t have friends, rather Associates, there’s nothing like a relationship controlled by a timely device. The Real Ones are under the Sand, I call them Appropriates…She was ahead of her Creation ship but opposed by a tide of an untimely demise. Now I’m in solitude on this table surrounded by demons, but Jesu still breaks bread…A Soldier should learn to stay stable even though his bound to say “Yes” to deal with fake Men.
So fasten your seatbelt and countdown the launch sequence
Ready to blast off this sieged land compound, notch the frequence…
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 2:20 AM UTC
How would I draw me?
In pencil on time stained paper?
On the canvas of future so dreamy?
Or on a mirror with brushstrokes much braver?
Certainly not in cyberspace even thinner
Where there's everything but real stars that glimmer
Cause to me, you see, fellow maverick,
All that is pure we can't draw and wear like a fabric
It's lived breathed and loved
It's etched into your senses and leaves you for dead
For you to rise again like the morning sun
With a painting to show to your darling young ones,
Without form, style and genre,
So take the water and gulp then go sculpt nothing
And leave to go discover in the romance of mystery.
Oct 9, 2017
Oct 9, 2017 at 3:10 PM UTC