Cacophony

On hip hop landscapes
The residues of gunfire
Linger behind every word spoken

Within the towers of its origin
The shallow speak loudest
while flagbearers for the true remain silent

We create beef where there is none
The wretched scramble for crumbs
Devour each other blindly
Blinded by the minute, the shallow, the worthless

That is reality

We all attempt to carve our legacy in the sounds of time

Turning to the music for salvation

We dance across galaxies to a jazz riff

The chords turn within

Birth themselves as reverse harmony

The tears of planets rain down meteors

While MARS, the god of war,

Beatboxes his marching legions to battle

On the wings of a red rat riddim

Planetary no longer, Pluto dreams of being a rock star

He bedded the iron maiden

Slipped anthrax between her sheets

And led zeppelin to the promised land

Hip hop always seems to have beef

Rza’s violins clash with 50 cents of nothing

Souljaboy speaks wordlessly

While those with voice are not heard

Eminem reduced to battling with pop stars

His bite blunted by years of inactivity

And mtv no longer fears a black planet

Though its darkening skin is from the sun

It still lacks the necessary melanin required

To see beyond the crashing laughter

Of children’s nursery rhymes

And teenagers school yard dirty ditties

We live in a symphony of madness

We house multiple personalities

Who sing distorted truth in dis-harmony

The streets are a cacophony of delicious decadence

Yet they birthed us all, Made some of us men

We have tasted the sun

And vomited star dust

Our bodies racked with the impossibility of humanity

Music is the universal language

The weapon we wield blindly

The battleground we shall die on

Our blood shall run thick

Laced with mucus

And the product of our loosened bowels

The last sound we shall hear

Will be the vultures cackling in harmony

The last sound they shall hear

Will be our dying cries

As they delicately pluck at our insides

We once danced across galaxies to a jazz riff

But Coltrane is dead

Miles is dead

Monk is dead

Parker is dead

Hip hop is dying

And music shall herald the end of days

In death

We shall silence the noise

And finally find harmony

the witching hour

Witches and wizards conjure spells
To break us free from the blocks on blank pages
Goblins and elves sing a merry song
As they throw pity and shame into fire-filled furnaces
It is the witching hour
When the world sleeps
And the words should come
They don't
In hiberbation it seems they are
Leaving writers and poets in perpetual winter
Look to the children
And rediscover the world
Where colours are bright
And the grey glistens with gloss
For in the witching hour
The words must come
The blank page must be filled
The balance must be re-gained
Inspire souls once more with your thoughts
Make their hearts dance
Their eyes see
That there is beauty in words that speak truth
When life is lived in honesty

Dreamer

She lives in the foreplay of life, streaming together endless nights with beauty, her dreams are what she lives, embracing her spirit and giving willingly, I am in awe of this being, this creature of the night, this soul that lives wholeheartedly .... while I watch on, randomly ... in my dreams

A partnership

She speaks
And I listen
Without judgement
Without expectation
Without my preconceptions

Her life is hers to live
As is mine
Together we shall conquer the world
The destination is the same
But, sometimes
Only sometimes
The paths we take
Are not the same

The cost of living

I was in a supermarket the other day. The scanner wasn't picking up one of my purchases and I jokingly said to the lady at the till that it must be free. Her response, "nothing in this world is free.".

And I replied
Everything comes at a price
A pound of flesh, a bank guaranteed cheque, a money transfer or good old fashioned cash are what's needed to get by

Could someone tell me the price of a friendly smile, a reassuring touch on the arm?
How much does love cost, in its pure, unconditional form?
And the feeling you get dancing in the rain on a hot summer's day?
What do words cost?

Nothing is free
Is that the way life has come to be?

Just words

Burn down the walls of madness
Get high off the fumes
Rage against the machine
But be home in time for supper

Throw off the shackles
Drink from the well of freedom
Live off the land of your fathers
But don't forget to pay rent

Be free
Live with hope
Pursue dreams
But always remember to drive on the right side of the road

Retreat

She retreats delicately
I watch in silence, reluctantly
Do I speak or let her go

Pain

The voices have been silent
The muse was in hibernation
And I
I linger on the edge of words
Their sharp sides slicing the tip of my tongue
Reminding me that they shall still be heard
Whether in pain
Or at the nib of my pen
As it randomly scratches between the lines

Writer's block

Can one forget how to write
Blocked for forever
What do you call it
When the words scream never
Again