Delusional Jewels

These readings, though they appear misleading,/ are meant to guide you beyond the ceiling./ Food for thought for the toothless or ones teething./ I leave emeralds in collard greens and gold in rolls./ Gemstones are in these poems for pupils to behold./ Can you dig that? Take a swing at these riddles with a pick axe./ Don’t you want polished jewels. You got the tools/ to use to extract them and now rule./ But anyway, bright ideas take stage on the page./ Thought I was cheap, but I got enough to pay this price;/ To get seats for a lifetime at a Vegas fight./I draw eyes like an artist or Vegas nights./ This light of mine, your mind, it provides insight./ My speech glows in the dark or in light./ I like to write under a black light,/ so fluorescent thoughts, can glow back nice./ When I recite those thoughts, I light up the sky./ Colorful lyrics pop off like the 4th of July./ Diamond earrings, to your ear cling./ No, that’s just the saliva I fling./ Bars imitate stars and twinkle in your eye./ Lyrical constellations I put in space and/ make PlayStation 4 games with your imagination./ At 37 mph, I’m racin’, looking for a gas station./ Deficient as a human,/ I blend in a sense of humor/ within my sentences. I grin at my penmanship./ Laugh at my own talent, while I grab pens to do damage/ against demonic aliens who manage the planet./ I write wrongs.  I write poems.  I write songs./ I just try to enlighten/ dark-hearted titans through my writings./ I feel extra to these terrestrials;/ giving you something uncommon in your stereo./ I phone home from my knees or on my feet./ That’s with no service from sprint, or at&t./ Look back at the horizon, and I see Verizon./ T has been mobile without even trying./ Speaking in 3rd person, but it’s your 3rd eye I’m eyein’./ Nomadic patterns, yet I’m still getting signal in caverns./ Tired of hell, I almost took a dirt nap on Satan./ Voluntary insomniac, I awaken/ to God shaking me and cooked bacon./ Police killing dozens of unarmed blacks./ I arm my brothers heavily with facts./ In fact, they’re heavenly facts./ I want to live a long life, past 70 in fact./ Galactic media I’m feedin’ ya/ impacts your surface with the force of a meteor./ On land, thanks to the Man who saves, my health is grade A./ But on the page, I hate to say, my hand is sicker than AIDS./ With the flick of my wrist, bleakness can go away./ If we keep idolizing money, we only go astray./ As a time traveler, the journey is no longer concerning me./ Details of the destination is what burns in me./ As I stroll in between your earlobes/ and throughout the whole globe with hope,/ I write for the blind in 3D braille./ Trace what’s in my headspace. Follow the ink stained trail./ Dropping jewels like I robbed Zales;/ I’m dropping dudes; punchlines making ’em swell./ I’m delivering envelopes of quotes or mail,/ right to your doorstep, without ringing the door bell./ Autobiographical articles/ I scribble, marvel you./ In reality, my confidence is little./ On page though, I’m Cain Marko./ A comic off the page, but a Juggernaut when I jot quotes./ Lofty words scrape the sky like buildings in Chicago./ Everyone wants to sell pot, except the ones on the block though./ On the road to success, God thickens the plot though./ America’s becoming a nation full of potholes./ The debris in the street, we sell as rocks though./ We’ve become a nation full of Satan’s brothels./ Food, boobs, or booze on the tube advertised all the time./ Sex was brought on the mind, way before it was bought on the line./ Digital subscribers, we like our/ eyes dotted with T’s and B’s. We might cower/ until we use our strength to fight the power./ P.E. made me want to flee from physical activity./ It made me want to flee to a tv or catch a movie./ So cool, he’s smoother than smoothies;/ drinking red rum while listening to cool beats./ From my throat, I invoke rubies/ to then go in your ear hole. Raps rawer than sushi/ So sick of what I spit *clears throat*, “excuse me”./ I plant seeds under loose leaf,/ that grow strong in your mind quietly./ Like a tree, my limbs extend to you nicely./ As a nomad, i carry topaz intertwined in my notepad./ I promise the onyx I come with/ will strip you of bad ideas. I’m just being honest,/ with my comments I admonish/ lifestyles, that allow you to cloud out the Son with./ The pen and paper, Cover your ears or run from it./ Pearls are flung and creations are spawned when they tongue kiss./ Satire glimmers in sapphire, get the truth–it, run with./