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Within the cathedral of remembrance my dewy Creole skin you softly titillate
My passion, my desires, will be the rewards to thwart a downwards fate
I embrace as I whisper within the melodies to entice, allure the virility of muscular spines
Within the pages of my existence, once sought, caught, ruin, mischief, delusion folly, rash action, suffering eludes the destiny of my time
Darkness I blanket the weakness of thy mind
I am the light, I am the the dark, I am the good, I am the bad, a Divine Messenger kissed by Father Time, the winds carry the whispers of my gentle voice
To uprise in truth and integrity, to whisper mental freedom of a positive rejoice
Safe passage given through the third eye of existence, its humanity’s gift, our inner divine source
The denial of my mission, is to forgive and then place the head upon the highest steeple of the Roman churches
Where crows will gage upon the sight, upon their nightly restful perches
If they offend thee then pluck thy eye
What good is a human who do not have wings, and tells the mind its soul can fly
The tip of my sword, raised in battle, without malice, ordained for disavowal
A misguided mind speaks the window of a bitter tongue
In its incoherency, we discern the meaning because their eyes have become undone
In the need of the light, but still cannot feel the warmth of the Sun
Many will come in His name with sweet vinegar on the run
As above, so below, acrimonious dialect, no spiritual food for thought
The mirror of the soul is not in the telltale signs of those eighty-eighty constellations, do not allow a detrimental intellect of naught under the guise of ill-begot
Evilness behind the mask that has slipped, squaring the mismanagement of detrimental news, take the cosmic route, look up at the stars and feel, be self-taught
No one can ever fit the path of anyone's shoes
It comes with too many sentiments to love, goals I have met, while giving of my healing creed, ordained as my earthly dues
Angels never fear to tread upon the congregation of babbling crows who call themselves the fools
We all want peace casted upon our heads
Yet only buffoons squawk before the sunrise, not living in the reality of self to understand what is written or what is being said, pray upon stones, pictures, and evil relics, and still mentally brain dead
An intelligent mind speaks the truth, in advance knowing it’s what the world truly needs
Instilling hope to the forgotten when dark mindsets of juniority emotionally bleed
When the absence of spirituality is in hollowness of its thriving seeds
Wisdom of lineages, of time, of the elements, it’s the secret of life found in my incantations
Not false idols that bring frigid souls no sacred benedictions
Only a vintage surly orator, who waves a tattered Yankee flag so proudly, from my higher view
Not my related issues, not my problem to solve, not my worry, never has been, and my DNA cognitive awareness is above that to step down to pursue
The pilgrimage of some broken lineages is factual historical account of blood stained hands, which, it reeks of cruel history, by enslavement, segregation, degradation
Many may move their mouth to blanket disdain when the mind cannot grasp the level of its own sullen conscious in retrospect, trying at best to soothe a blind or ignorant congregation
Never trust a soul who speaks of the skies but cannot tell you how to arrive, or curses its existence, any sacred Seer sees through the blueprint of slothfulness inscribed behind wasted energy, what I will tell you, ‘Yes, at times, shi$ does float to the top’
However, it still flushes down a commode as slop
With the toilet paper its own stinky a$$ was cleaned with in tow
I am the spirituality behind the words, I have the pleasure of allowing your eyes, and your heart to tenderly borrow, in times of pain, or in times of sorrow
Respectably so
Your heart, your mind, your eyes, treated with the softest care
You can enjoy me in the privacy of your home, anywhere
I never bother with who, why, or what, respect given, is always respect due
Do not come upon foreign shores, I am the Ghost, and I do not get spooked or frazzled, by anyone else’s Boo’s
Taken down, or a stiletto to the throat, from there, you would have to ask yourself, why
Never allow a ruse mentality to lead you, when the heart and mind are not even registered in the skies
Life forces drained in the sensual rewards of destruction
Woven and spineless, voices in disdain, has never ceased my divine eruptions
The corridor of my soft awareness, yearns, from the alluring of my cajoling voice
The road paved to Hell without directions, having no conscious or obsolete to think with a sound becomes your own thy will be done choice
“Assalamu Alaikum”
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