It is perjury to say that only surgery
Is the only answer for cancer
And that the only healing therapy
Is the immune system suppressing chemotherapy
When there is fasting purification, colonic irrigation
And blood cleansing herbs for toxic elimination
Where there are citric fruits and vegetable roots
That our Ancestors grew because they knew
That this was The Creator’s answer to longevity
And the wealth of good health

Unacceptable to the Bible rule
Toxic medication is unnatural
A drug to the blood
A decline for the mind
A cause for the heart to depart
Which inhibits the spirit
Executing side effects and defects
That intercepts the body’s ability to heal

Now there are doctors anointed The Creator’s soldiers
Who are the holders and beholders
Of medicinal wisdom and knowledge
To whom wee must petition for this mission

Prescribing foods and herbal solutions
Purifying the blood, dismissing viral pollutions
And annihilating bacterial intrusion
Sanctifying the bloodstream river of life
Curing every disorder and strife
Battling any viral radicals
Forcing them to go on sabbatical
Eliminating the confusion, the delusion and the illusion
That we must submit to toxic medication
And give praise to its chemical contamination

Now brothers and sisters wake up from the walking dead
Put an end to being mislead
Nurture the mind with holistic education
Nourish the body temple
With herbal and vegetarian emancipation
Feed the spirit with prayers and affirmations
With faith you will discover gratification
For our Creator created the cure


PARADOX LOVER

A paradoxical toxic wasteland of my time
Exuding conundrum confidence
Confusing me with oxymoron actions
Of loving me and hating me all at once

Spinning my head around
And knocking it on and off my shoulders
With multiple personality inconsistency blows

Giving me convoluted kisses entwined
With pleasure and pain
That brought uncertainty
To my laughter and my tears

You were like lotions
Spreading moist touches on my skin
That dried my surface ashy
Leaving my intuition baffled

Hiding behind a Mr. Hyde mask
Heckling at me with Dr. Jeckyl smiles
Showcasing perfect white teeth
That felt like crooked fangs sinking into my neck
When we made love/hate oxymorons

Confounding my spirit
Unable to discern
Whether you were a Heaven sent angel
Destined to love my heart
Or a hell bent demon
Scheming to destroy my soul

I remained in love with you
As you purported to love me
And allegedly hate me
Proving your feelings
By genuinely sending me crimson roses
That maliciously died in my arms
Obfuscating your intentions

In my sleep
I remained awake in my thoughts
As my head lay on powdered feathers
That felt like dusty stones
Because I though too hard
About this mongrel of love

I felt like a scattered jigsaw puzzle
Controlled by the incongruous hands
Of your contradictory heart
Solving me together
Un-solving me apart
Leaving me bewildered in contrition

I took baths inside of you
Expecting to be enveloped by your soothing warmth
But instead was irritated by your frozen wetness of heat
That burned my love frost bitten

As the clock kept the forward of time
I ticked counterclockwise into my bleak future
Smiling cries that laughed tears
From my opened eyes that remained closed
To the truth of your untruth
Leaving me blinded by the sight of ambiguity

I lived in the labyrinth of perplexity
Feeding on your edible un-edibles
Tasting your un-poisonous poison
Concluding me to live in death

My spirit was alive
Although it felt buried under the earth in a forgotten coffin
My body was dead
Although it meandered above the earth un-condemned

I was a living corpse
And my feeling of existence of non-existent
Leaving me trapped in a topsy turvy purgatory
Constrained in love with the paradox in you


HIP HOP PROBLEM 101

Harlem Street Jams
Boogie Down Bronx
Queens Bridge Houses
Brooklyn’s In Da House
Blacks and Latinos
planet rockin’
non-stoppin’
bee-boppin’
hip-hoppin’
to fusion words of the tongue
poetry sung
singing to the hip hop a hippit
a hippit hippit hip hip hoppin you don’t stop
remember that?
remember Run DMC running shit
LL Kool J and Kool Moe Dee battlin’ it
KRS 1 droppin rhymes and fables
DJ Scott LaRock mixin’ on the turntables
Roxanne Roxanne
UTFO trying to be her man
Curtis Blow
Grandmaster Flash
yo, they rapped about jammin’ in the park
not who got the most cash
remember what rap used to be
what hip hop needs to still be
when rappers wrote dedicataions
declarations
libations
to making the best of ghetto life
instead of threatening to shoot you with a nine
or stab you with a knife
hip hop was and always will be a culture
but this culture has now been de-cultured
by western culture
DKNY and Tommy Hil-figured dumb niggers
played the mind game
now black dollars are spent on their name
white man’s name lashed on black backs
rapping about I got this and I got that
you ain’t got this and you ain’t got that
but what is your message rapper?
who’s your massa?
nigger run faster and faster and faster
to that Versace sale
put Versace’s name in your next record
drop that rhyme like hale
‘cause you can only be a dime piece
if you spend a $G on a Versace fashion piece
nigger!
brothers and sisters fall for that subliminal crap
include it in their rap
dropping free advertisement without payment
feelin’ jiggy because of the cost of their clothes
callin’ sisters bitches and hos
but sisters are queens
unless they’re half naked in a Luke video
weaving horse hair into permed hair roots
to cover up their true black roots
keeping minds perplexed
black queens vexed
because sisters call themselves queen bitches
but bitches are dogs in heat
which is a title of defeat
when a brother calls a black woman a bitch
he’s also calling his momma a bitch
because momma is a black woman, too
now let’s dance to a Biggie Smalls’s beat
singing Biggie Give Me One More Chance
Biggie Biggie Give Me One More Chance
maybe if rap wasn’t about being a gangster
Tupac wouldn’t have to Hail Mary
and Biggie would need One More Chance
but we still dance

to his posthumous anthems
fuck the playa hatter phantoms
‘cause there wouldn’t be a need to hate
if rappers weren’t players
who pick cotton in Ralph Lauren’s field
forgetting that hip hop is more than music
it’s a culture, not a couture
but white couture has become black culture
and black culture is now enslaved
headed to a fashion grave
‘cause many homies suffer death and defeat
going six feet deep
over expensive sneakers on their feet
robbed and killed in vain
thanks to the rap game
conveying you’re only jiggy with Nike Airs
but raps needs to teach the youth it’s time to care
care about each other
sisters and brothers
not east coast, west coast rivals
not fashion idols
not half-naked Jezebels like in the Bible
not worshipping that Mercedes Benz
and fake friends
that only want to be down
‘cause they’re a gangsta
a playa hatter, a thug
a fucked up clown
gettin’ naughty
drinkin’ Old English forties
but they probably won’t live to see forty
thirty
or twenty years
punk drunk asses making momma cry tears
blind mind thoughts
thinking it’s cool to be a fool
but instead of hanging on the corners
listening to the Dog Pound
they need t keep the mind in school
or else they will end up in the dog pound
write hip hop that makes sense
like the constructive rappers and singers
who write about positivity
not slave mentality
of materialistic idolatry
and negativity
which isn’t what Hip Hop needs to be
Hip Hop needs to be a way of life
not a killer of life
Hip Hop needs to be sculptured
into a model of true black culture
not white couture


LOVE WITHOUT REFERENCES

Past tense passions
I don’t care about those glass hearts
You once broke
Or that shattered you
Why don’t you request references from me?
Does it matter who I loved
Or who once loved me
I’m loving you in my newness
In your newness
Bringing a new place setting to the table
No more plastic knives and forks
Of disposable empty promises
I’m brining the stainless steel utensils
Of retainable real love
So why does this past matter?
I’m tossing out the old
Bringing in the new
The new me and you
That is now conceived in the fetus of present time
Not the abortion of past tense
So let’s raise this love child romance we got
Let’s nurture it for our future together
Without references
‘Cause I’m hiring you for the job on faith
Where is your faith?
Must you only refer to your voice of sight?
Yes, seeing is believing
But only if you believe in giving it a chance
‘Cause that is what life is—chance
I don’t have a degree in love
But I’m still qualified for the position
I have the experience
But I don’t feel the need for you to review my references
‘Cause I’ve made mistakes
That is why I’m seeking a new job
Isn’t that also your story
I’m sure you don’t want me to read your biography
Especially if it isn’t auto
There are two sides to every story
But right now
I want to read a circular story
‘Cause that story doesn’t have any sides
Just 360 degrees of continuity
I want to read the reality of going around and around
In a rotation of our love
That’s the poetry I want recited to m y soul
Not the smutty romance novels of
He said
She said
Let’s put the ancient artifacts of old love affairs
On the shelf of memory lane
Look into the eyes of modern now
Allowing our love to be contemporaneous in oneness
Without those old meaningless references
Let’s live in today
Remembering yesterday
But not living yesterday
Just looking towards thee future
By taking a romantic getaway trip
To a fantasy island called love
Without bringing old baggage
Full of out of fashion memories
That force you and I to take caution
and deny ourselves of each other
Let’s get an empty suitcase
and pack it together
With new dreams of forever
and never depart


OXYMORON U.S.A.

America is a deafening silence lving dead
Populated by free slaves moving still
Ascending downward towards the friendly enemy

LOST SOULS

Flaccid thoughts emulate from impudent contemplation
causing one to sell their soul to the devil’s aphrodisiac
just to masturbate on ego-erections
aroused by false promises of immortal power
that ejaculate salvation rivers that lead straight to hell.

These are the souls that come from planet lost
where alien thoughts aspire matriculations
into extraterrestrial universities
to acquire degrees in grandiloquence
so they may properly curse you out
because you didn’t let them park their U.F.O.s in your driveway.

These are the souls that chew on pig fat gum
and put gerry curl perms in their pubic hairs
just to be out of touch with their heritage
and in touch with their straight jacket alter ego
within their un-potty trained chemical imbalances
of being the one black bird that flew over the cuckoo’s nest.

These are the souls that harvest
corrupted National Enquirer scandals
on the tip of their loose lips
because they’ve consented to political seeds
ejaculated into their mouth
to satisfy their conspired yearnings to be in love with the President.

These are the souls the employ themselves on pharmaceutical corners
to peddle get high on lies
instead of getting high on the Most High
because that green dead president demon possessed their soul
and the only savior is an exorcism behind Cell Block-H conducted by Monsignor Warden.

These are the souls that become the sol ebon token
of a law firm partnership old nick party
refusing to greet sable support staff members in icy hallways
when in the company of pompous alabaster business colleagues,
transparently staring through coal-black secretarial skin
with uncle tom eyes,
thanks to frosty the six-figure sow man lie.

These are the souls that work undercover for the devil
in stray dog pounds
legally utilizing its sacrilegious area
and an animal sacrificial temple to offer The Creator’s fur fleeced souls
to the gods of euthanasia,
instead of the gods of a new loving home.

These are the scoundrel souls
that need to take herbal morality colonics
to cleanse their hearts from thee nigger & spic shit
that defecates from their lips at Bla-Tino people
because they consume the devil’s toxic prejudice lies
in the colon of their Aryan minds.

These are the Pontius Pilate Klu Klux Klan souls
that convert pick-up trucks into bigotry crucifixes
nail chains that mahogany Messiah souls
persecute their black hearts
mutilate their blessed bodies
by dragging them through the prejudice streets of Jerusalem, Texes.

These are the rocket scientist souls
that acquire degrees in deceptive chemistry
find jobs in Aryan government laboratories
mastermind the master plan
to render a race of souls extinct
implementing the HIV/AIDS genocide experiment.

These are the souls that hoodwink Barbie and Ken doll hearts
play with their innocent minds like toys
undress their gullible souls
molest their purity
with ice cream cone promises
to not tell Mommy about their pedophile secret
scaring them drug addict blow up doll adults.

And these souls . . . these desecrated lost souls
will be renounced by the Halo Son of the Heavens
burned by The Creator’s flaming eyes of judgment
sent into the mouth of abomination
swallowed and digested into the screaming forever forgotten
as newfound righteous souls are begotten.

Lost souls forgotten . . . found souls begotten
Lost souls forgotten . . . found souls begotten
Lost souls forgotten . . . found souls begotten