if you’re not crazy
you will be
if you don’t want to be
you’re not alone
although I’ve reaped my peace
so you should go
but, if you think you aren’t crazy
then you’re crazy!
because if you weren’t
you wouldn’t have been here
you still wouldn’t be around…a crazy MF like me
and I don’t prefer you sane
that in itself is its own crazy
I rather you lose your freaking mind!
that way
you don’t mind
what matters to those that aren’t our kind
and nothing that is nothing will take hold on your mind
but that of the something which is one of a kind
when two crazies collide
then two crazies align
you too crazy, am I?!
Spirit
Good Damage
there’s value in brokenness
you just have to want to
see it
in yourself
then you’ll identify
with someone else
needing to be helped
I think my shell
has been my longest-lived
prison cell
my vocal heart quelled
by a development jailed
erosive emotions guarded and hailed
in the wake of hope, one could only rebel
there’s honor in honesty
I say this humbly, I’m depraved
with nothing, it’s hard to be brave
when I only see graves
I brace too much to embrace
but how can one behave?
when that way means, be slaved
but there’s value in us
cutting calendars up
living and feeling is challenge enough
detaching from time until released
what an irony, huh?
every over-pressured coal creates a diamond
if help is mining, you’ll see us shinning, just look!
Living Liars
there’s this lie
one that you must know about me
I wrestle with it
more than I do my pillow
fighting to listen to sound sleep
I don’t want you to know
me by this lie
yet you do, already
more than you know me
by anything else
or other than
something else or anything
other…wait,
confused myself
guess I just want you to
better understand the lie
you will know then
who I am, really am.
seeing what I have
been up against
you are
better able to see me
know me
hear me
trust me
help me. heal me. whole me.
but you don’t know me
by first, hearing my truth
still you can’t see
beyond my lie
far enough to
absorb my truth
and care.
but to care,
you must know the lie first,
reason being..?
you live it as well.
how does one live truth
rediscovering lie after lie?
unlearning and relearning
in years too far from childhood
it seems
the lies are the layers
which lie in procession
to one’s core truth,
core of truths.
the lies are fodder
old paint
chipped away at
or the splintered wood
chopped down
never sanded.
I was spirit
before being
I was celestial
before extraterrestrial
I am absolute
relatively speaking
I am imagination and will
manifested
I am vessel
for truth realized.
king, in one mind
god, in the other
but, I was born a lie
then became human.
before man
I was child.
and even before baby
I was black!
though your mind denies
color is unseen
and my certificate of birth
readies the lie
signed, into truth
I am a lie
you carry it out
by reinforcing a world
which accepts it.
you see me
and say
he’s black
I am and am not,
I am and am more
I am
but
the lies you tell yourself!
dressed as truths
they appear worn
picking with no sense of details
the lies I believed
trying to discover
truth.
new clothes, I’ve rarely tried on
the lie I became
knowing no truth
the truths I know–
outcastes, of lies–
have to convince you
and me
of the truths, we live
being lies
the lies we know
obscure the history
of truth’s time in the sun
so I need you to see me
I need you to know the truth
my truth
your truth!
Son shine, Sunshine!
Sun Shine!
but if the moon,
remains eclipsed
you will never will
true sight
until you understand
the dark is the truth
and the light,
the way
Frantz Fanon said
”a Black, is not a man”
so my lie
is harder to escape
than yours
a complex problem,
with too simple a solution
to be believed, in
so since the details matter
‘rejected’
is who I am
until we stop living lies
Thing Chasing
lost myself losing things
lost things lose people
people lose things
loss seems like self-lost
thing people
people things
time loss loses things
things lost to time
more things one finds
more self becomes blind
things vanish, lost in time
with no frame of mind
occupying space and time
degenerative minds
the self I lost, chasing things through time
when all I’ve lost, is my mind
Sin-Tax
how can I
get free,
when the language
I speak
holds me down
perpetually
rendering me
meek
weak
peaked
Objectification and Subjectivity
submerging into subversion
aversion to assimilation
conversion to isolation
diversion from misrepresentation
a limitless manifestation
only limited by lacking imagination
and limiting impositions, of
subjectivity subjugated by objects, and
objects subjugating objectivity
I find it, difficult being objective
when the subject
is of more than objects
my subjective objected against
because I’m a sensitive subject
handled like an object
therefore I object to objectivity
when the human condition
calls for subjectivity
the essence of humanity
no longer can be believed, humane
if it swallows empathy whole