Mood:
Piano chords from Robert Glasper on loop…
Dillalude#2
The sun is setting on this late Autumn afternoon, and I am besieged by the embrace of nostalgia.
Memories of simpler times, moments of fellowship…Stolen moments now, as the season of Change has created oceans between souls.
And you wonder what to do in moments like these, that sneak up on you without warning; do you dance in the wake of their song, or do you weep because they’ve sung and gone—and you remain, the keeper of keepsakes that others have forsaken…
What do you do?
I have not the strength to dance, nor have I the taste for tears.
So, I sit, and I listen—as the birds chirp a melancholy tune in honor of what might have been, if friends were truly friends.
I sit, and I weep with pen.
♥
In this ditch, you have also buried my heart…
and in the garden of my soul, no flower shall bloom again
Sun and Earth are lifeless, lamenting of the loss of beauty
as She-my destined Rescuer-has gone from this place.
For one who once held an unrivaled capacity to love, paled only by
his driven need to be loved by Her, life has abated its worth…
And so—he—desolate, empty-will trod about all the remainder of his
days bereft, an echo of his former self…walking dead…
So, in this ditch do we on this eve commit this heart, one who has known many wars, and has endured much toil,
We ask that at long last—this heart might know peace in everlasting abundance, and that All we— who would give love and receive love, never forget…how precious such a gift truly is…
‘Eulogy of My Heart’
don’t tread/the paths/that fools do/u betta getta blues clue/buy a vowel/or consonant or two/whatever suits you/take ya whole gene/code/and undo/rebuke you/like those/old/dirty/road/dusty pew/church deacons do/matta fact/who are u?/sun of man/I murda crews/premature werewolf/that transforms/on quarter-moons…
(freestyle—Fathom 9)
Those who pretend to be our masters would have us flee from the Greater greatness we are. They would grow wealthy from the sweat and blood and toil we perform; they would relish with delight of our collective plight—and we—in our cowardice afford them such luxuries. They give you your preachers, impose trends, meticulously manipulate your lives and even when you become aware of it—you feel helpless, and thus surrender to a seemingly cruel joke of the Fates.
Further, the very institutions that socialize us—our children etc, perpetuate this enslavement. We feed our children lies—lies that they will be able to name the stars of Heaven in their dreams, only to destroy their dreams by making them…conform. Our way has been lost, our purpose corrupted—and my heart weeps with blood because I trust in a hopeless hope—that somehow—we can counter the current and coming onslaught.
I…am…a…madman…a fool.
I too have been fighting within—afraid to embrace a greatness others have seen, but I concealed from myself. As of late—I find no refuge in rest, as my spirit is ablaze—aching to speak. In my youth I was a fan of superheroes, or perhaps a need for there to be something greater to cling to in this dismal place. Time and Life challenged those sentiments for me, and I—like many of you—relegated myself to lesser-ness. But, I contend—in this hour—if at no other moment—I KNOW I am different—special. I cannot accept what this society throws upon us. To do so is emphatically neurotic…
There is no crime in celebrating our greatness—whether it be individual or collectively. We’ve only forgotten the words to Our song…I know not why I was driven to write this—it may not even make sense to any of you—but I am utterly sick and tired of incessant pontification of the ills and poison our self-proclaimed masters place upon us. The seas have flowed with blood; the land stained—covered with bones; the air saturated by the putrid stench of defeat—and on this Day—in This Hour—I hereby rebuke all of it—all of the doubt, and loathing, and surrender—I am that in whose image I was created…
I..AM…a…God.
You are ALL Gods. Awaken the Secret Fire within, and take back what is rightfully yours…by Birthright. Personally, I am weary from fleeing a destiny I thought was not mine. And each day may be a struggle to remember, but it is a struggle I gladly embrace.
WE MUST REMIND THEM ALL THAT GIANTS WALK THIS EARTH!!!
I would hold the Sun as Hostage until we could share each breath with one another, extract my eyes that i might love you more…blindly; fuel pen with my own blood, consecrating sacred sutras of passion upon parchment for you-my unrequited…But ultimately, my words are nothing but a prayer, a testament to hope in the possibility of knowing You…I want to raise nations-sired from our mutual devotion—our seeds born as Legacy…Our Love…Timeless-Boundless-Formless…
(free writing meditations unfinished—Fathom 9)
Fear not, for this is but a sanctuary that embraces free thought-while and IF it is still legal to Think Freely--to Express One's Self...Freely. I am but an Emissary-a conduit conveying the intimate sentiments of the Infinite. 