A Fallen Poet

Pieces of my revolutions
scattered over papers, filled with sensations
and mental frustrations over my growth,
in this unforgiving existence mother earth has brought to my attention.
where a line is but merely a prose seeking undying conclusions.
awaiting my birth in anticipation
of days and nights when i lost my inspiration
and there i was with a mic and pen
scripting and reciting hoping to reach you,
wondering if you listning or just admiring,
this words my heart is portraying,
This letter is too you who rule over earth and moon,
soon fools with repel from this eye,
and your presence will fill this mind,

Dear God

Please grant me the power to inspire,
to portray my darkest and lightest desires,
to world who I’ve seen crying over her last survivor,
a spiritual man in the heights of Cambodia,
where rebels skinned mothers in the banks of the Mekong River,
the world is as dark as its prisoner
the face of Lucifer emerging in the Bohemian Grove
to last a life time in man's oath of outliving his soul,
lusting immortality and telling us it's life's oblivion flow.
that fills the Amazon with the death of a million Amerindians over gold,
we only know them as cannibals, whom are no better than crop eating crows,
If you are still around, why are you letting him win?

Dear Society

As this pen fails to write
I see life in a deferent light
trying to understand how one fails to see beyond a Hutu or a Tutsi
who's guilty, anger or revenge,
maybe the Anglo Boer war was just a publicity stunt
to give reason to the death of Biko i wonder
if these story makes you see me as a matha fucker
or just another kafir soaking on his guilt for throwing a petrol bomb in cyber space
forgive my ignorance, but my face is tainted with rage,
of the so called holy land, built over the blood of Persian slaves,
now been the central manifestation of man's greatest ambitions,
This is for you seeking a new beginning.

The pieces of my revolutions
scattered over papers, filled with sensations
and mental frustrations over my growth......