There is beneath us the progenitor and we call it “Mother”. Above us is the progenitor and we call it “Net” for it takes us and tosses us into the known and the unknown.

Our home star is not as bright as yours. We prefer your temperate lands when we visit, where the vegetation is lush and green. Those of us who remain inhabit your deserts and open spaces.

We are your brothers and sisters. Our development has been to grow in awareness and the development of our power. You have the potential to develop as we have, but your instincts are of a social group who need dominant members. You develop your material reality and your physical world. Your anchor is fixed and you grip the familiar and reject the unknown. There is a comfortable point where you feel the fullness, that is the anchor. In order to maintain this as a static point you develop belief systems to support it. This is your weakness, you are innocent children.

We grew and developed along another pathway, our anchor is not  rigid. We use Net for our anchor and so are able to change our perceptual reality. We move in ways that you do not understand and in any direction. We draw the fibers of Net around us and jump and fly. You see us only from your anchor point so that you see us change shape, appear and disappear.

Our voices and languages are barely accessible to you. You hear deep sounds and high pitched chirruping and whistling. Very few among you have remnants of language incorporating any of these. Those remaining are as clicks and whistles. We prefer direct communication.

We are masters of illusion. Our survival has depended on it and it is our instinct.
Our power developed so that when we pull around us the fibers of Net we create a shield and throw an illusion before those who depend on vision. It is one of our protections and also our hunting technique. We are hidden from your material probes and instruments of increased sight in this way.

Although we have been close neighbours for aeons, you have hardly seen us, except for the Few. Your interpretations have created problems for you. Your reliance on the anchor is so great that some among you do go to great lengths to maintain it. There are those among you who will silence the Few rather than lose the fixed anchor.

You are infants only, a seeding coming to fruition, and you play with dangerous toys. Your anchor is geocentric. You are in danger as is any youngster who plays with fire. If we showed you ourselves openly your rulers would not be gentle in their curiosity. We have technology and use material tools but we have had less to restrict us. We held back your development as much as we were able to enable you to develop power of the mind and independent thought.

Your grasp of Net is strong but you are rigid and anchored. You have learned to stand up and hold on. Now is the time to let go and walk, let go and run, let go and fly.

Around what you name “body” and believe to be “All” is more that you do not perceive with your restricted vision sense. You are aware of this. If you will learn acceptance and filter less from your senses, you will find the beauty of the universe of energy around you and available. A small perceptual shift would show you how you appear to those of us outside your narrow sphere.

Your body has filaments, which when translated to sight, appear as small moving threads which shine with rainbows. They move and ripple inside an energy body of light. This is your true body. It has abilities and senses that are dormant as you do not access them. They are accessible but as your anchor renders you blind to this you do not use them without intense effort or instinctively in extremity. The filaments are drawn together and pass through the anchor. Depending upon your ability to select filaments of the Net, your habitual plane and reality is selected and determined.
Those among you with abilities in your energy senses you ostracise and even ******. You succumb to misinformation to treat them as fools or freaks. This may be instinctive but it is a control mechanism to perpetuate the anchor and maintain the hive of your artificial society. So due to this, you have even less sense of true reality as it could be to you, by breeding out and suppressing your gifts. We have attempted to rectify this with limited effect in successive seedings.

You may notice that our words to you have reference to sight. Your terminology is geared to vision. You rely on visual information  so much that you have neglected physical senses of taste and smell, hearing, touch and proximity. Compared with our perceptions you are as blind as a mole is compared to to your visual abilities.

Your construction of reality is so anchored that your dangerous inclination to gather around you artifacts gives to you a sense of permanence. You are anchoring yourselves in time, yet to you it is dead because your senses are dead. There is an opportunity for your predators to use this to enforce your perception of, and control you within, your anchor's limitations. In this way, producing written or pictorial and symbolic records in permanent form is beneficial only so far as understanding continues to exist of the conditions under which these records were left. By changing current understanding and language to suit their purposes, your enforcers are able to manipulate your branch of humanity on a large scale.

You seal yourselves into the rejuvenation plane of the Mother progenitor where you feed and breed. It is so pleasurable to you to stay within this cocoon of reality that you fail to open your cast and therefore fail to fly into the spaces of Net outside where your true inheritance lies. The end result of this is greed and unrest. Your greed is paramount to you as you seek ever more pleasurable gratification. You enslave one another, buy and sell time and forget what you are. You are allowing the destruction of your home world. Without the home world you will have no place of rejuvenation, and worse neither will the myriads of others who share this progenitor.

There is a song from each mother progenitor within Net. It is a combined song and made up of the host progenitor together with silent voices of each and every life form. Together from each home world, the inhabitants send out a pulse. This is not a song from one species of a world but rather it is a song from all species, in fact every particle of every organism that lives.

To our developed senses the song of a world is brighter than the star it orbits. They are filaments of Net. The varied forms of life all send out their unique song. Many of us interact, harmonise, visit, commune and combine. You feel isolation only because you fail to harmonise and join your own song.

In your past and present we have felt the song of your world. Those of us belonging are part of that song. It is the song of being from the many. It does not end at the perimeters which you imagine. You have a problem in that, for the majority, you do not join your voices to the song. Mainly it is in dreaming, in childhood and in old age that we hear you.

We attempted to observe and commune and found many of you receptive to us. We have taught to you methods of development and given you gifts and tools. You have kept and preserved some of this knowledge only for a select few. Fears and distrust among others has caused destruction of a great proportion of the gifts that we have given to you. We found many lines of breeding where potential for development was possible. Your greed and your predator class destroyed many of them due to the competitive desire to have power over others.

In past seedings upon your progenitor and in the oldest times of your present incarnation, we have been known well and respected. Acknowledged for our seniority and loved as cousins. You did call us gods to distinguish our abilities. Then what did you do? Your control mechanisms changed the meanings of your language, whole languages were lost in wars over territory. You developed power structures and religions. Powerful rulers accumulated and isolated your shared knowledge.

You reduced your development by selective education in the Way. Territorial disputes and greed over resources divided you. You ceased to listen to the Mother. Instead of harmonious living which you had managed in agreement with each other already, you were divided by hormonal impulses, insecurity, violence and greed. The natural openness of the female within it's central domain became enclosed, imprisoned and the natural desire of the male to outwardly discover and interact was turned inwards until it became a sedentary desire for dominance within the female domain. You lost the harmonics of the song. Your religions underestimate the power of borrowed tools. Your ruling classes made deals that they didn't understand, with predators they didn't recognise, in order to save themselves.

We stood on ground over ground and were called Immortals. We gave you wisdom and were called Kings. We moved and played among you and were called Jinn. We moved among the small folk and were called Faerie. We appeared in light and were called Angels. We wandered in places where you too did once wander and were called Ghosts and Demons. Those who spoke to us and attempted to impart to your hive our knowledge, you raised as prophets or slandered and ridiculed. You stole their words to make them your own words of power, changing them to your own ends or you murdered the messengers because you feared the changes that increased understanding brings.

You incorporated the experiences of your murdered victims into a celebration of your own power structures, twisted and out of synchronisation with the song. There are some among you who are in communion with the Great Spirit of life. We seek to heal your song, your complete home world song for the benefit of the myriad sentient beings who rejuvenate here, including yourselves. We seek to set you free to wander the threads of Net. It is within your reach but not in the ways that you  are taught.

Your world is about to change and you must change with it as you are a small part of it. Holding the threads into your own anchor point will break them. You have reached inertia, entropy. The movement has to come, it is inevitable. Imagine one of your large machines of cogs and wheels and bars. Your insistence upon a rigid anchor is like a bar within the machine that doesn't move. A point of inertia in a moving system will be removed. This has happened over and over among your kind and our kind in many places and worlds. You do not remember when worlds underwent cataclysm, forgetful of trauma you have followed a similar path.

We travel along pathways of energy, both upon worlds and in the Net. Moving bodies follow these paths. We follow comets and small bodies able to move freely within Net. Net permeates your mother progenitor.

Survivors mapped the movements of Net after the slate was wiped clean and you were reseeded. There is a secret that your rulers are aware of and you are not. The secret is that there are no rulers within Net. You all have the freedom and capability to access true harmony of the song. You allow a faction, to call themselves an elite class. You fear this as a hidden power, a predator. It's aim is to amass Time: a power based on material wealth. They take this power easily as they have taken and twisted truth and history. The gifts are shared among you equally and these few know this. Resources are plentiful and yet you succumb to their restrictions. A predator cannot survive without it's prey. We are not your predators although we move among you. Your predator is within and feeds upon your fear.

You are not in the tribes now, you have no shaman, no guide to take you in and out of the gate and this role cannot be allocated to parasitic Blind Time Hoarders. These whip up your passions and lead you into war and destruction to further their material wealth. It leads you away from the song, as these think to enhance their own survival which it may do but never can as they understand it. They seek to steal your dreams and make them their own, they are helpless without you. They care nothing for the song because they are aware of successive seedings.

Net is a dream reality, changing, immeasurable, boundless, filled with infinite possibilities and you are creators. Blind time hoarders drive you by combining the minds and dreams and belief systems of many to focus onto what they themselves desire, in order to bring it to fruition. They employ dream stealers to prevent your development. They believe that their own song can exist independently and they guide you only to anchor yourselves into your own prison.

All is a dream, all is ephemeral, changing, dynamic. There is no death after death, no damnation on any particular plane. Reality is how you construct your song. Your rulers create inertia for you the many and profit for themselves using you as the tools of your own entrapment. There is no death and no damnation, they are constructs of your reality made by material anchor points and you are controlled by fear of the inevitable. It is a statecraft to use belief systems to control perceptions of reality in order to fix the anchor point to a rigid point of convenience. In this way you are farmed, you are a crop in each seeding. Who seeds you? You seed yourselves. Sentient beings are all naturally regenerated by the mechanisms of Net when conditions exist that are compatible, world after world, in each growth cycle of every celestial body. In the regeneration, holding to your rigid anchor point, you seed into your prison after each cataclysm, each breaking of the inertia.

If you would be open to the mechanisms of the place you inhabit with it's creative forces, it's sentience and it's dynamics you will learn to fly the progenitor Net's pathways and return home for rejuvenation to your progenitor Mother of the tribes.

you're still going to pay for something with a woman, so why skip paying for the dinner, and pay for the knitty-gritty?

which why why i don't understand
β-males,
  these highly evolved moralists...
i can understand an α- male strutting along
playing a miles davis track
with a trumpet, and a bob dylan
jingle with his has ushering the wind &
the willows via his ***...
   it's a simple question -
   do these males really feel so morally
superior, as to ostracise both the *****
and the pundit?
                   seems the men who sometimes
visit prostitutes, are worse than
the prostitutes themselves,
  they stink of: ******* should exist,
but only offer services to the disabled...
  oh they're not for "abolishing" prostitution,
they're for prostitution to be a medium
for: those poor ******* in wheelchairs...
  while stephen hawking spends a weekend
on *jeffrey epstein's island and gets
his brains ****** over twice without
thinking about the universe: and that slobbering
grin of his just enlarges into a supernova...
but hey... it's apparently the moral basis
for a β-male's pruning the rose bushes,
  because if he ever walked into a brothel
he'd run off having a wet *****'s worth
of premature *******, looking at a room
of 12 x 2 = 24 caterpillar of fleshy legs...
          intimidated, he couldn't even
get a hard-on drunk...
              i'm the last man "waiting"...
         i have no point to ostracise these women,
clearly ******* elevates their
moral "dilemma"...
   oh bad, not good, this can't go on!
     let me check with uncle richie my right
hand man on the topic: is it all bad?
            depends...
  you find a ***** in a *******'s room,
she spots you looking at it,
  and she asks: wanna use it?
  and you reply: not really -
or when she's exhausted for the day and
you tell her: i don't mind,
   and you snuggle up together for the rest
of the paid hour and just talk,
and then you kiss both her eyelids,
or you leave after an hour,
after she just told you: baby, you can *******
as many times as you like,
  but after that one hour: you haven't,
and she gives you the look of:
          i must be some sort of failure.
it's just a ****** shortcut!
      you end up paying for something,
  whatever it is, dinner, shoes, you name it!
but the β-male "morality" is about as gratifying
an argument as: excuse me, have to shoot
the sheriff off... because hands really are
the "moral" excuse for living the "pristine" life...
oh the shame, the guilt!
    how is that even a question of "morality"
when a ******* exclaims:
   aww... that's the second time on the job
                     (regarding her climaxing) -
ouch, kiss on the hand moments later and she's
still bewildered as to why it happened...
       that's why i don't believe in this
alphabetical psychologism derived from
the alpha-beta interaction,
after all, who the hell said -
        ego sum alpha et omega /
                         ἐγὼ τὸ Α καὶ τὸ Ω?
scrappy second pickings if you can't
identify that major woman in any man's life
that's sophia, that bride of ω-men...
and yes è (hold back) g' ò(h) -
other it would come out as    e'goo,
but the grave on the omicron is bewildering,
you already hold back from the ω,
i.e. ó, i.e. u - or too...
                as if the iota (ὶ) - which is what,
exactly?     you still cite j, which is
the iota acute (ί)... sure, it's not kay -
      but cayenne (pepper) - kai -
       what sort of withholding / drawing back
the slingshot of a tongue using this
diacritical distinction?
****, the greeks are just as bad as the inheritors
of latin (the english) -
   one has become too pedantic in their
written script, while the other has become
too lazy to even use it!
which means, by definition of applying
arithmetics to diacritical distinctions
   we receive the following clue:

omega acute (ώ) = oo'oo(h)
   omicron acute (ó) = ω = oo(h)
catcher in the rye, catcher in the tetragrammaton...
          omega grave (ὼ) = o               (oh,
pict for - oghhh **** - gurgle that one out)
                      omicron grave (ò) =
  ah, you see, only works in french,
   like the cédille, or sigma -

            even though there are no examples
of french with that letter -

the omicron grave is unfathomable to me...

       perhaps in spanish, in a bullring
where the matador would fling a pink cape
into the eyes of a gay bull and shout:

    olè!            i.e. ol'!
                      rather than....      olé! le le le! o(h).
      
in whatever french example there is...
after the grave accent on the vowel has been
indicted, the subsequent letters are surds...
i.e. silent... the best example i can give you
        is crème fraîche (crem)...
         ever wish you could have teased james
joyce to have written at least one diacritical
marked letter into finnegans wake?
   insert a single diacritical concern into that
work, and the whole work disintegrates into
a concern for his schizophrenic daughter's
ramblings...
     for all the concerns, there is not a single
diacritical mark in that book...
   not one!
                    must be an irish thing -
  ploom boom bam - 'ere comes the plum /
  plām...
               aah: just so you can imagine what
it would be like, had i pút an banana into
that sentence, instead.

It was a morning of tranquility
And it was your vile tongue that had this abruptly undone
The birds were singing and inside my head your words were ringing
Intensity spiralling  
As you continue to chastise you really only manage to ostracise
Your red mist has descended and the white flag truce has ended
A battle commences as my back is turned to absorb your barrage of selfish subscriptions
Just another bright day of perpetual predictions

Take the mask off when you speak to
me.
I know what you are.
No need to sugar coat those words for
me.

You're a monster, beautiful and scary
and 'twisted' into an elegant knot.
You don't have to hide from me.
The hiss when you talk is enchanting.
Don't be shamed your just like
me.

Those pointy horns create a gorgeous silhouette and
Those terrible thoughts pulsing through that deformed skull of yours.
The ones that can't be revealed even in death.
Say them. Converse with
me.
Forget the pleasantries, the politeness say them to me in your crooked way.
let us exchange our terrible thoughts.
let the world grimace and ostracise us.

Don't try to be like them
we're outsiders.
Destined to spoil there pretty picture.
Mutants. Uglies. Nut-jobs.
Destined to waltz on the edges of society.
Hanging, on loosely to our humanity.
They don't understand our song.

We'll make our own world.
Where our thoughts are so  free, they fly through  the streets.
Where we love to love and  we love too much.
Take if off, we have each other.

Maliciously trying to divide the attention of the men so occupied with their own affairs.
Dressed in a silhouette, she knew it wouldn't be long,
Before she'd remove her grawlix,
To antagonise and ostracise the fool in her jungle.

He didn't seem to mind though.

My forte is putting thoughts on display like a portrait
Life’s exposing poor traits that people portray and cleansing poor tastes like sorbet
When I push pages with my blunt blade I upstage it’s abrupt changes if you got a good name off an upgrade
I keep firing down my targets like a gun range
I no longer associate with bitter terms I just hold and wait... to drop bodies from my desk like Mr Burns
In written terms
With rhythm added
Brilliant nerves
All systems crashing
Critics are cryptic just to crispen their cash in
It leaves my vision in fractions like there’s a chip in my glasses
You’ll shock yourself if you thinking is static
Progression is winning in practice
Synonyms are encrypted patterns
The devils in the details like criminal plannings
Keep these deep thoughts about
It is criminal plannings because they’re always tryna draw me out
I’m pulling ahead but I ain’t pouring stout
This path of mine is spent thinking in silence like a mastermind
In life it’s either mass or mind
It’s rare to have both like hermaphrodites
I’m the iron type
Explosive
Dynamite
This is the biopic thriller of the psychotic killer
Passed out he thrives off the liquor
The taste is so bitter
Why do we bicker
Argue over twitter over which girl is fitter
please start thinking bigger
Life goes on and we can’t stop the time it isn’t a race either but you always cross the line
That’s why I ostracise
Even though I need to be occupied
Only got a dozen choices like pocket dice
These guys stop and hide
So on and off like office lights.

Another worlds timeless hell
Superstition, aggression to sell
Swords issue non-compromise
The world you want to ostracise

Under stones you leave the victim
Twisted heinous evil system
Wedlock secures no retribution
For both a stay of execution

Operate in pure self-deception
Live in the past no progression
No parallels with humanity
Your abstract world of insanity

Misogynist homophobic pleasure marriage
Apostasy death to discourage
Hateful collection of rules
Delineate for the weak & fools

I don't want your ideology
Don’t care for your false morality
Take off your veil of oppression
A symbol of your own depression

ABASE PEOPLES SPIRITS, CLIP AND STICK OIL THICK


Abase people’s spirits, try to clip, then stick oil thick tar onto far reaching feathers. Try to demean and dull simple aspirations, by slicing and hacking at the high vibrating senses; and you will witness that negative black thermal rise aloft, you will view a majestic feathered wing hasten on its draft and swirling gust, you’ll wonder at its graceful effortless stretch towards the bright sky Apollo heights.
Abhor and hate a religious slant, emasculate the margin wards, hound and hush at a dream state narcotic, and you will face a strident strong, grit nailed fist, a well-trodden hobnailed boot, and a weathered wise skin wearing a cook splattered apron with histories blood spilt.
Admonish and oppress free seeking thought, blind deny widening lids of open minds eye, pick and pull at oral bones, and you will hear the rat-tat-tat of a printing press repeat, and the bull horns static, followed by the clip clop sounds of many marching feet.
Alienate and nullify peoples, then meddle with boarder’s joint sown crop, ostracise then chemical spray your neighbours hard worked organic plot; and you will witness diligent worn meats, with chore sweating heat that honest toil only seeps, you will smell fresh baked sharing bread, and taste all provincial wines from well-worn supping cups.
Abnegate and abolish choices on sovereign taxes paid, try and hinder imagination with an impassive thrill, like a fairground ride where precious coins are lost, and you will only illuminate action style paints on a ****** white canvas or mould some sculptures odyssey path, and then finally read red blood ink articles in a bold, strident thought-out font print.
Always deny, always see the black and low, a force misunderstood will be born from high aloft, spirits grow where weeds grow strong, muscles pulse and flex when faced with the downing speak. Internal juices which blood only boils, Adrenalin spikes the fighting tooth pick, watch chest rise and free imagination thoughts think.

Ya' Know When I Was Young …
There Was A TV Show …
That Was Quite Fun …

Because It Took The Ride …
Through Famous Peoples' Lives …

The Show Was Called …

..... " This Is Your Life " …..

I Figure Some Fa' Sure … !!!
May Well of Been The Type …
Where Some Were SURPRISED … !!!
By The Sight of Some Eyes …
That Once Upon A Time …
They DID … " DESPISE " … !!!

But Because of PRIMETIME …
Everything Was ALL SMILES … !?!

See My Mind Sometimes …
Deviously Designs ….
These Sorts of Rhymes …

But Back To The Topic … !!!
Because It's NOT Microscopic … !!!!!!

In Fact I'd Say … TECTONIC...
In The Way Some Lives Now Move …
So … Could This Be YOU … ?!?

The … " Badbwoy Dude ! " …
Who … Runs The Block …
or YES … "The Corner" …
of … DANGER-FILLED Borders … !!!

Where Guns Are Cocked …
Cos' Man Get RUDE … !?!

NOT The Type of Rude …
Most Are Used To … !!!!!!

But The Type That PROVES...
That All's NOT GOOD …
Within Your Hood … !!!

Or Are You The HEAD …
With The Type of Complex …
That Makes You Feel...

The NEED To IMPRESS …
And Constantly STRESS …
That You Make Deals …
Where Guns and BADNESS …
Are Your Daily Meal … ?!?

When In TRUTH Your Speeches …
LACK... Any Kind of REALNESS … !!!

Cos' Your Life's Design …
Is The WANNABE Type …
Where You Choose To Believe ….

YES … Your OWN HYPE … !?!

Until … REAL Gangsters … !!!
PROVE That You're A WANKSTER' … !!!
Because Your Lips May SINK Your Ship … !!!

Because of Talk About Things ….
That May Just Bring ….
Your Life To A HALT.
When You FEEL The STING … !!!

Or Are You The Guy … ?
With … Corporate Ties … ?

ALWAYS Looking FLY …
With Your TROPHY Wife... !!!

Family of..… FIVE …..
And Bits On The SIDE … !?!

Or Are You The Shy And LONELY Type …
Who Feels Like You DON'T Fit This life … ??!??

That's … MOST of us RIGHT … ?
... (Maybe That's just MINE !?!)...

SERIOUSLY Did I Just Write THAT LINE...
For The People of the World To SEE ONLINE... !?!

So Are You The Type … ?
Who's LOSING Their Mind … !?!

HOW Do You KNOW … ?
Come OFF THAT Road … !!!

Don't WE ALL Have Times … ?
Where Things Feel Like …
They Just … " DON'T FIT" …
With How We Want To Live … !?!?!?!

Or Are You Inclined … ?
To Believe In … I …
Rather Than … We … ?!?

So Prefer To.............. Ostracise.....
Rather Than  Join Teams … ?

OH SO YOU'RE THE PARASITE …
Who Is … ALL ABOUT ME  ... !!!!!
And Choose To Dine On Humanity... ?!?

If That's YOUR Life … ?
You Can KEEP It Alright … !!!

And I DON'T Have The Time...
To REALLY Tell You WHY … !!!

See I Was Just At Home Chillin' …
Trying To Get Some Shut Eye …

But Words Like These Kept Spinning... !!!!!!!!!
Where My Deepest Thoughts Reside … !!!

As If They NEEDED LIFE … !!!!!!
Which Made Me Sit And Write …

So Is …. " YOUR Life " …. ?
The Type That's Willing …
To DEDICATE Your Mind …
To Something So FULFILLING …
As Taking Time To WRITE …

Lyrics That KEEP SPILLING … !!!
From DEEP INSIDE Your Mind … ?!?

It Would Seem That Yeah... ?
I Am … THAT GUY … !!!!!

Who Writes Poems And Rhymes …
That Flow Like... Sands of Time...........................

To Share With Those Inclined …
To … Take The Time To Find …
The Things My Rhymes Enshrine …
Because of My Life's Design … !!!

See TRUTH Be Told …
As I Said Before …
I Was HAPPY At Home … !!!

…. Playing Music ….
But Then The Movement of My Thoughts...
Brought These Lyrics To The FORE...

So Now I DON'T KNOW … ?!?
How This Should END … ???

Okay … The SHOW … !!!
... That's Right … !!!

When You Take A Look Back …
At … Your Life's Track …

What Kind of Design ….  ?
Would TRULY Describe …
What Your Life's Been Like …

Through Words Like These …
Indeed ….. THESE FIVE ….. !!!!!

"Could This Be Your Life ?"

Now This Piece Is Most Likely...
NOT For The Flighty...
Who DON’T Act WISELY... !!!
  
In These Crazy Times...
Folks Need To Be WISE...
In The Things They Decide...
Will Be What Invites...
.... Positive Vibes....
That Will Uplift Their Lives...
  
And Choose To Be WISE...
BEFORE Starting Fights...
And Dropping SNIDE Lines...
That CLEARLY AREN’T NICE... !!!
  
Or Those That Preside...
Over Seeing What’s RIGHT... !!!
Cos’ A Guy Said That I...
Make Moves Like I’m MAD... !!!
  
But A Rasta' Walked By...
Who Knows BETTER Than THAT... !!!
  
... Quickly Replied...
Having Pulled To One Side...
This Guy With Loose Lips...
To Just Let Him Know QUICK... !!!
  
“You should keep
your lips ZIPPED,
when it comes to him !
cos’ he's a brother who Thinks,
and has righteous vibes,
cos’ he’s a SERIOUS Guy !
So, watch your mouth,
until you know who you’re talking about !”
  
Now The Guy Running Chat...
Was Quick To Draw Back...
And Then Apologised...
Which Clearly Was Wise...
  
But He DIDN'T Move Wisely...
Before He Was Lightly...
  
Told About How I Might...
Have Let Being Wise DIE... !!!
  
If My Ears Had EVER Heard...
His... UNFOUNDED Words... !!!
  
So You See That This Verse...
Also Shows That Big Virge...
  
Doesn’t Claim To Be Wise...
I Just Right Truthful Rhymes...
About Things In My Life...
That Have Fed My Eyes...
Soul Body And Mind... !!!
  
So Now When I’m Writing...
I’m Doing So WISELY... !!!
  
Well I’m Certainly TRYING...
By Writing... PRECISELY...
About My Life’s Sightings... !!!
  
Conversations And Relations...
With... Different Faces...
  
And Yes I Mean Races...
DIFFERENT To Mine... !!!
  
Cos I Don’t Think It’s Wise...
To Divide And Ostracise...
  
Because That Sounds Like..
The Type of Vibes...
That Come From The Minds...
of SUPREMACIST Tribes... !!!
  
Who DON’T Move Wisely...
Cos Their Too Busy Fighting...
Back Biting And Delighting...
In Seeing Man DYING... !?!
  
Now Those Words Speak Concisely...
About Our Dividing...
In Ways That Are TIRING... !!!
  
When Simply UNITING...
Might Leave Killers RETIRING...
Because of Recognising...
  
That To... UNIFY...
And Let Anger Subside...
Might Help Them To SMILE...
And Find A BETTER Life...
Than Those That Take Lives... !!!
  
Another Line...
That Has MULTIPLE Levels... !!!
  
Because It’s One That Revels...
In... Questioning Minds...
  
About Their War Crimes...
ALL Colour Types And Violent Tribes...
  
From Those In The Streets...
To Those In Armies...
  
What Do You Achieve...
By Using Weaponry... ?!?
  
To Prove That You’re WHAT...
Some Kind of WAR GOD... ?!?
  
Does That Not Seem WRONG... ?
When CHILDREN Get SHOT...
Or Mistakenly Bombed... !?!
  
I Guess It’s Just ME...
Who Doesn’t Believe...
That’s The Way We Should Be... !!!
  
... Agree To Disagree...
BUT FIND UNITY... !!!
That Can SUPERSEDE...
Jealousy And Envy...
Corruption And Greed... !!!
  
There’s So Much I Could Say...
In This Piece of Wordplay...
  
But That’s It For Today...
But To End I Will Say... !!!
  
That From Running Your Gums...
To... New Age Kingdoms...
  
These Words That I’m Writing...
Are FAR FROM UNTIMELY...
  
Because What They’re Inviting...
Is People To... Move RIGHTLY...
  
With EXQUISITE Timing... !!!
  
And Just Like This Rhyming...
Use Our Minds To......
  
REALLY Choose.....
  
........... “ WISELY “........