Indulge Not! (Female Poet) 2011

The courses of deceit are replete with starch, not meat;
Tries to defeat the primal animal in the cannibals as we;
The treacherous application may bring a satiation to one which stands on fours
Instead of Two;
And the revenge of thy premeditated ruse, thou transgressor...
Will thee definitely rue.

USA: Land of The Absentee Rulers (Undergraduate Student / Economy Major) 1997

Most people don't know this but we have been sold. Of course in the truest form of supply and demand. Supply being the land in the United States. The demand, well, that's the kicker. The demand comes from the Global economy that has been put into place. You see, it's all about marketing and salesmanship. The United States has been marketing itself, to the elite of the world, to be in the forefront of habitation, where the rich people will want to live, now. The goal is to have all industry moved outside its borders while still controlling said industry. Instead of trying to be absentee rulers of people, The United States of America is marketing, toward the rich and affluent, to live in The United States while ruling over the, now, industrialized dirty countries overseas where they have relocated those industries.

No worries, a healthy environment, no pollution, no nasty health concerns..."Come to The United States and breath easier." But at a price. And most of US will not be able to live in a country where we deem ourselves citizens.

And the only way one, like myself, will be able to live inside these borders will be in a service position, only to serve the rich for menial wages, menial employment, substandard housing and, of course, no health care.

Cooling Embers (American Satirist) 2012

The fire that blazes inside us, tugs the slugs, plugs the tear ducts that fear the lust of life. Pipe filled to the hilt from the silt that has caused a black lilt to tilt and plunder in the storm and the thunder. Plunder all my faculties into the niceties of hope. Dope only being the soap which will cleanse the chaotic transitional ways in the mainstays as we all pray. Stay for a day before we pass suddenly away like Holloway in Aruba with many scuba divers to prosper as they falter. Sweating until you are used to never loft her into the twilight in the dark night as the moonlight seeks the shadows to fallow into the next season to reason. Plant the pant as the scant treason, teases and pleases. Appeases the multitude. Feuds no longer stronger. A bong stands stoically and radically as the vapors savor the oxygen wearing thin. THC leaving my body chemically. Piss turning a bright florescent green in the scene. Peeing another fleeing prisoner to never cause a fastener to minister to the sinister plot of the snot flowing, bestowing the causative effect. Prefect the sect of a religious catastrophic dialect. Pecks the specks of a high Myopic topic to become circumspect to dissect the heart torn apart to the point of confetti to pet. Let another stranger to linger in the cauldron to steel the will. Feel nothing but nonsense with no defense. Recompense about the days gone bye as it belies the ties. Pies cooling on the window sill to thrill an old school generation. Penetration in another vagina not kind to a marginal spread as the orgasm spasms into another level. Travels to another hemisphere not queer. Beer a mainstay to the laymen who famines, not feeling the stamens rooting in the ground with no sound. Profound to call a loud yelp for self help. Shhhhhhh! Time to shine, quit fooling around! Because I’m lost...never to find or to be found.

The Rise of The Chaldean (Chaldean American) 2018

Kick it and split it! Shit rolls down hill to kill, smothering the human standing for something in a world replete with nothing; a vast overcast. Gray clouds shroud aloud, clapping loudly at the soldiers standing proudly in its dark shadows. Dead warriors, conjures a repressive anomaly that is plain to see. Key your foes vehicle to make you feel better locally, wearing a sweater of fine quality while your poor ass tranquilly sits on the scorners’ seat morosely. Fallacy of humanity; piety bleeding from the fatal wounds of this sanctimonious bullshit fit to be tied; lied to as a virtue effulgently lit; ensue another pleasure to discover such false comfort of discomfort. Distort the truth as a ruse to cut loose the maniacal spending; politics sending a dour message which sours the cowards as well as the just; an ill administration causing castrations to the various populous members among us. Poverty stricken weakens the whole; causing a collective soul of Nicalative aspirations. Nation of knowledge sans college; abridge to the siege. Besiege upon the rulers; boring conduits of sewers. Skewers of such fine stainless steel quality. Humanoid! Ninety-nine percent of the people seem to be. But my people will rise, chastised because we are not baptized. Wisened and civilized; as the privileged catatonic will be washed away blessedly. Righteously! Biblically! Piously!

Alas! (Broke Black Prophet) August, 2020

Pop a pill to kill the ills; trying to alleviate the pain that gains, every second, every day. Pray until your knees are sullied and raw. Paw and scrape to try to survive this fated plight of life, ill perceived light that has dulled and dimmed over time. Crimes happening every millisecond. Tons of excuses become the ruse to the obtuse to the Holy Triangle. Strangle yourself with a noose never being cut loose, being cut down to rest with the pests, the rests of us confessed still judged not blessed. But, I am intrepid when the wind finally comes from the west. Armageddon being the absolute test. I’ll pass and you’ll be lying right next to me, on the ground; as my physical soul burns and I look around, with a smirk because we all had to feel this icy inferno fury. We all caused this horrible natural catastrophe; this wave of hell, this Tsunami of fire…now washing over our bodies.

Next Booty On Duty (American Satirist) 2013

Vanity of insanity;
Licking and sucking pricks and clits;
Making vile flicks;
As the consumer sits;
Massaging and stroking dicks and slits.
Going down in humans’ history
Of having such adept sexual exhibitionism.
Squirting jizm
Across the room,
A panacea to one’s priapism;
To thine life’s misery of capitalism.
Infamy of another category;
Sullied territory.
A testament to the human flesh factory's
Commentary.
Being bought and sold,
A pity to behold.
But let the story be told,
In terse brevity;
We are not hot or even lukewarm;
We are terminally cold.

Transpositions (Bosnian American) 1996

Delusions are ones’ truths and to another lies. Crying for one is the expression of great joy and to another great sorrow. Laughing is ones’ merriment and to another unbelievability. A whistle can express Beauty and tragedy. Look Kool. GoD DoG. LivE Evil. DeviL LiveD. EvoL LovE... Changing Light into Dark; the Truth into Lies.

Thy Destruction Cometh (Broke Black Prophet) August, 2020

I can see the mountaintops burning, spewing forth such iridescence; coughing up it's toxins which it has kept in its chest for too long. Many liquid glowing rivers flowing down, cascading with its heated wonder and splendor.

The time is now.

I see the trees shaking fearfully in anticipation of what will come. I see my fellow humans running for safety, but there is no place to run.

The time is now.

I see the Beauty of Thy destruction which is coming fast and furious. I see the horrible face of death coming my way and to so many others. I am scared; yet, my heart is filled with glory.

The time is now.

Sans A Fig Leaf, 2018

I walk a mile and smile, all the while both sides of the streets are nothing neat. Unseat the concrete out from under my feet. But I step lively, happily as I am a witness, one of a few who do. I look high then nigh, sigh but keep keepin on. Walking strong with no shoes on. Songs of the key of life running through my head, Bill Withers not even giving me dread as I said, one must be in balance walking on the unbalanced life which I am embedded. Shed my clothes so long ago. Baked and naked in the searing sun as I run…for freedom.

I Wish You Were Here! (Black Stoner) 1978

Sending stars from above as the lift off occurs;
Blurs through my sight as the lights of the earth get a little smaller.
I holler from the lovely emotion speeding toward the atmosphere as my soul starts to level off;
I select a better view as the jettisons stop.
I hop on my back to pay attention to outer space,
Throwing up a peace sign as I stare in wonder;
The thunder rumbles through my back and out of my chest,
Aftershocks from the sky a little below me.
The best is yet to come as my soul gets ready for re-entry
Being gone what seemed for so long.
I land so softly upon the green earth, touching down.
I turn around and say,
"Fire it up again! 'Cause I'm goin for nother round!"
The sound is tremendous as the smoke is sucked in,
The rockets burning off what isn't needed.
B-B-Boom!
It's lift off. . .all over again.

About Time! 2016

Floating over your residence. Keeping you safe. Mind going out into the environment which you share, to create an aura, a protective shield that wards off evil. One reaching into the depths of the subconscious to arrange a meeting with time and chance, letting them understand the power a biped possesses. They being taken aback with their inferior knowledge of the power to which they hold, being part of the system of non-believers in a make-belief world, which we are in. Becoming one with the universe, passing time the right way; a mind game that takes no prisoners, only to the ones who want to succumb, to live. But this life is not about life or death. No, it is about time. The time one has on this earth and what that one does with said time. Not, what did one do in one’s life, but what good did one do with said time?

Male Citizen, 2001

The most troubling thing I have encountered to date is for me to love a woman and she does somethings that are irreversible. Putting me in the position where I cannot begin to try to patch things up nor make the things she has done manageable. Things that have been taken to a whole nother level and she has given me no other choice but to say goodbye, forever. Things that I cannot forgive or forget. Crossing the lines, the boundaries that should have never been stepped over. Not my choice, but totally hers. It would be different if I were culpable in some facet but how can I be if she did not include me in the decisions that she has made and carried those said decisions out, without any input from me? I have heard people say, "You made me do it," then give some type of sorry rationale of why they did the things that they did. How can I ever make another do anything if I am not even in the negotiations or folly? How? If one knows what another has told them about one's threshold, one's boundaries and consequences when another oversteps those demarcation lines, what does one actually think the other should do? Think for some reason the other loves one so much that what they tell them is all horse-pucky? Then what happens to one? What happens to me as an individual? Where is my respect of myself if I stay? And if I do then I will be forever grasping for what I have lost due to my unaccountability to my own life. But what accountability does she have then? Must I carry the weight for as long as I am with her for her misdeeds and infidelities? What be me then? I do not want to become an enabling enabler. How does that help the one who I hath said carries thine heart? A heavy laden heart. I am left with only one choice to save myself because she is not my lifeguard any longer. No, just like all the rest that have been sirened by the whimsical ocean of life, I must say goodbye to her, as she is carried out amongst all the rest. And I with only a few looking longingly from ashore.

TheRapists (Bipolar Mulatto Tribe Person) 1990

TheRapists are the-rapists of such pristine sullied minds. Common sense turned into nonsense, unkind, for the pretense of normality. Stripping away individuality and diagnosing it as, a malady. They go in raw and I must take it all, without lubrication as the alteration of my purity becomes an obscurity. The status-quo is the only option to their power of suggestion; unethical behavior throughout their so-called profession; causing me frustration and exacerbating my Alien-Nation.

Chauncey Dewitt Hopson (Standard Tribal Family Obituary) 2007

Breath in. Breath out.

Basic autonomic response. Once response is not responsive one has quite a dilemma. I don’t know if Chauncey’s last action was an inhale or an exhale; but what I do know is that, witnessing the fine line between life and death wasn’t nothin nice. Nothin nice at all. I will forever remember the moment where I saw My Brother pass into another level of existence. Snapshots of memory flashing in my mind and it is so humbling. I have never seen a person die. Never. But I did August 29, 2007. Something I do not want to witness again in my lifetime. Maybe experiencing the death which will befall me will be the same, or maybe not. I just hope it overtakes me expeditiously. A simple request which I know not an answer.

Breath in. Breath out.

I caressed his forehead several times throughout the process. Skin turning from warm; then to tepid; then to cold. I kissed his forehead throughout the three stages of a physical entity which was my Brother going through the transition from life to death. Humbling.

Breath in. Breath out.

When I was alone with him I kept repeating aloud, “You’re going to get better or you’re going to get worse. Ain’t no in between Chauncey. But whatever the case, you will be fine.” I saw his eyes trying to open time and time again and I would say the simple phrase, “You’re gonna be fine. You’re all right. Chloe says, "Hi.” And I would caress his forehead making him understand that he was not lost yet by a human’s touch, a brother’s touch. Trying to orient him in his disoriented state, and that is a sad state of affairs when one does what one expects in their time of reaching the point whence he was last night. Can’t be in two places at one time. One wants to be or have been.

I forced his eyes open gently, when he was cold, trying like hell to find a certain perspective in his visual acuity which would help him see me, so he could see he was not alone; his eyes staring out into a wondrous world which he had already passed. Pupils fixed and dilated, concentrating on a path which life had given up and death now held him in its bosom of various pathways. And all I could ask myself was, “Why?” I will never have the answer which would comfort me, when I have to witness the same place as he last night.

Breath in. Breath out.

But for now, my autonomic system is still on auto-pilot. Still living. Alas, I will have to walk his same path one of these days. And it humbles me so. I am pitiful, full of pity. Because I too must make a choice one destined moment in my life which was not one of choice but of fact, “Getting better or getting worse.” And what be me?

Breath in. Breath out.

For now, I breath. And while I still have this breath which keeps me living, I know one thing for sure. I never want to see another human being dying with these living eyes. My Brother dying right in front of me will haunt me until I must experience thine same fate as he. And that…ain’t no Beautiful thang! Now that my soul being a witness to death.

Chauncey DeWitt Hopson born May 16, 1949 and died August 29, 2007 was a thinking human being, an intelligent human, arguably a genius perhaps. A contemporary Aristotle or Plato. He gave me the gift of leaving behind the human conditioning of looking at this life superficially because that is not where the fun or where this life really begins. No, the real answers lie beneath the surface, and sometimes one must, not shall, dig deep to find those elusive answers; though, one may never find. It’s the digging, the work that makes being alive…well…worth living.

I Am The Center Of The Universe And Beyond (White Agnostic Tribe Person) 1984

This life begins with me. As I opened my eyes upon this world, it all started from my gestation from my Mothers womb and subsequent world was created, by my mind, my perception, my being. It all starts with me and ends with me. I am the Alpha and Omega. Because with me not verifying this reality, life does not exist! How can “Life” itself continue? Life is only relevant to the living, and when I die, life has no relevance. So, the word "life" is an illiteracy because of it's finite nature to the human animal. Only in the relative scope of understanding by the ones who continue to ...live.

Black Father (Poem of Parenting) 2005

Time to clear my mind to find some sense in this nonsense; recompense instead of thinking conditionally about the present and the future tense. Condense the operator’s license I have abused since the age of reason on the pretense of individuality. Succumbing to the sanctioned criminality of this society which I find so uncomely. Sitting back serenely as I dreamily regress from this mess. De-stress and confess to the witness within myself that…life hasn’t been too unkind to such a pitiful soul. Control and unfold the query, why have I continued to live in such misery? Only to thine eyes is that completely true. Only to me, definitely not to you; hence, the introspection. The obsession to figure myself out before my daughter takes on some of my undesirable traits. Trying to understand who I really am, to change for her. Before it’s too late

Penance (The Spoken Word, Uninsured Cancer Victim) 2014

People think of waste. Taste the haste of such self-righteousness among us. The dust turns into must as the lust becomes uncontrollable. Inconsolable as the portable television becomes a mission instead of hope or wishin. Fishin for food, prudes of such throw backs like the political hacks; they contract then hold back; stack the dialect they deem circumspect. Detect is not an answer. Cancer eating my body as the lobby suppresses me, the poverty stricken which sickens. But life ticks away in this mainstay as I wash away. Decay without say. Play a game of life with dismay. In judgement, I will eventually pay. But that is more than okay. Fuck you! Not tomorrow...but today!

The Human Puzzle (Anonymous) December 1965

If one wants to figure one out, one firstly has to listen to the individual and their narratives and after a time, which is up to one’s discretion based on listening skills, one has to make an assessment of the other. Because one has to take on the task of all human beings, “Is the puzzle worthy to be solved? Given the time it takes to begin to solve this human’s puzzle?” And if one partakes in the solving properties of the game of note, one is in for a treat indeed. And of course it is not unidirectional but of course bidirectional, because of one trying to find the solving of another must in the game itself give a little of one’s piece of their given riddle; albeit unbeknownst to one because again, people are born puzzlers not understanding, they, themselves have fallen trap of all, giving a bone and taking a bone. A balance, an unsaid rule amongst all of us adept puzzlers; the ground rules made and tweaked through the sands of time which have passed throughout our evolution into what we are still to this day, greater puzzlers; evolving in even a more complex and interesting puzzle. Making it harder and harder so the human race can keep being productive by needing that complexity because if we knew, all hope and ones life becomes one of perpetual fear and anarchy. Alas, that is only a minute part of the puzzle which will be dispersed randomly and it is up to one to keep the various pieces in the given shape and form which another starts divulging, and sometime another does not give that same piece which the other has been given in the right form and shape, again; ergo a lost piece of said puzzle. So, the paramount concern is to not let the opportunity come into fruition where one puts themselves in that position, if one cares at all about another espousing and giving out segments for one to decipher. Well why the puzzle? You see we are all puzzlers at heart, an innate art if you will, all human beings have this vast puzzle to give another and it is only then when the other is interested in one will they share the most unique, one of a kind riddle and another, other than the one given the puzzle, will ever be said ever again or told in the same way! Ever! An untold secret, which is nothing to sneeze about these days; loose lips running amok in an eighteen wheeled truck; a game played not by one’s own volition, but one of hope and love. You see that’s why people don’t tell everything at once. Nooooo! That would be giving you the whole puzzle and there’s no interest in that. No, if one loves me, one will stick around if I give them piece by piece instead of giving them the whole puzzled picture all at once.

Happy puzzling.

The Earth Is God / Revelations Then Genesis (Anonymous) 2020

Think about humans and living. Looking at it scientifically one has to believe what is really God is the Earth itself to be able to survive in its universe, in order to stay an entity, its inner life which breeds forth in us all, sends out its forces to diminish man so its core/energy source/heart will never die in the hands of man.

You see there has always been humans, but ever so often the earth sends out its destructive forces to kill man just enough, leaving enough of them on this earth to take care of it so it will always be a viable system in its universe. Spewing forth a massive amount of fire and ash, to limit man and what they have done to its epidermis. Purifying itself from the parasites it lets live on its surface so it will stay well groomed and continue to live. But parasites do not know when to stop procreating and limiting the destruction, to coexist with the host/God/Earth.

Humans/parasites start messing up too much of the skin, epidermis, mesodermis and a balance must come and the parasites must be scratched off or cleaned off; ergo, an antibiotic, or spray that works as an agent to kill all the parasites living on terra firma. Fire and brimstone, fire being the source of the genesis of the destruction and brimstone being ash and rock from the explosion that ignites from the purification process. The two combining as a blanket of death until just enough of the parasites survive; hence, Apocalypse, Revelations.

Humans eventually, being in such small numbers what scientist call "The Bottleneck Effect," after procreating a thousand times over, the caveman starts existing and the Genesis of modern day man starts anew. Eventually getting in balance with the earth and grooming it so balance of the forestry will stay intact and other things on the earth's surface which is in perfect balance, surviving the various destruction's over the years, and flourishing when man is limited then being in balance when humans start building, foraging, hunting…

The earth needs to survive, not man. Nature in reverse.

Ashes To Dust (The Spoken Word Morgan Lambert Hopson II) 2017

Soon to be consumed; embalmed; then scented with formaldehyde perfume. Entombed in eternity’s bosom; such a dark room. Time will be an illiteracy dancing on the edge which forgot time; shackled, finally humans’ crime. Hope lost in its prime. The sublime will be answered amid the subliminal. Damned criminal, going back to the primal state from which we have come. All! Not some.

Mother Earth / June 2019

Feel the warmth. It is only going to get hotter with the oncoming days. The fire is starting to get out of control in the center. She must cool herself somehow. No one likes that kind of intense heat for too long, only she can withstand such hellishness, it is cooling time, healing time.

Her boils, volcanoes, are beginning to spew, releasing her toxins; so she may heal from the parasites that have been feeding off her for so long, destroying her atmosphere, her aura. Like any living entity her temperature becoming unstable from the known cause of the infection and with that her defense mechanisms, white blood cells, have kicked in so she may fight; yet, another round of the same infection she has allowed to exist time and time again because she is...merciful, caring, loving.

She doesn't want to, but it is fine time for her to purge.

Today! (An Elder From One of The Lost Tribes)

I must say to thee, for the tribes that come aft, there will never be a day like the one thou is witnessing today. Whatever thy spirit, fill thy spirit with today until it runneth over, beyond satiation. Do not fill this day with selfish folly for thy days are young, thy days will always be filled with youth until thy soul pasts.

Enjoy the Heavens and everything which dwells herein. For thy days are numbered.

And there will never be a day, before or aft...like today.

An Angry Tribe Person (Race Unknown, Gender Unknown) 2018

Motha fuckas are tense. Somethins bout ready to pop the fuck off! It’s in the air. It’s in the winter’s breeze and the supposedly summer’s ease. It is time. Time enough. People have been pampered, postured, captured, murdered, festered, raped, molested, paid and laid…enough. Babies being taken advantage of by sorry adult fucks. It fuckin sucks! Our venerable, elderly, being taped, tapped, rapped and wrapped. Our sins…coming to the fore; more than a little sore. We can’t ignore. Oh, time enough. I hate to think of how I perceive this shit that I am witnessing but I must, if I am a sentient human being, like I surely am. Fuck the truss and the SPAM; I’ll own my trust; greed becoming the need; euro centrism becoming the maxim. Phlegm, being green and mean as it spews forth from my mouth; the, dirty south becoming more sullied, as the muddied waters become muddier. Flights taking off, without a destination leading to adultery and fornication on such a pervasive whim, limbs becoming flaccid with the latitude crossing: lewd, nude and rude. Prudes being buried; hurried into the ground without another sound to pound out further angst. Gangsters becoming the folly of pranksters; silly son of a bitchs wielding switches from the trees with their britches being around their knees as the snitches become the ones with the riches. Softness turning into toughness. Mans hands bloodied, sullied, studied to the point of nausea, a so-called panacea of a formula. Finding out finally it’s not the mighty that makes everything all right, blindness of sight. Tight lines find the Achilles heel as we steal another day under Our God’s Son. Light another candle to handle another fine mess to undress such absurdity in this horrible profundity. We can’t help to be pitied. We have never failed to disappoint with our conditioned response to the elements. Filaments getting dimmer to simmer another fine loser of humankind. We never learn, discern the learned points, crippled joints disjointed. Hearts pointed in the wrong direction…every fuckin time we have been through this shit! Get a clue or get catatonic, dark blue. A fucking pit. It’s all the same, the imagery we have sent aloft. That is no sneeze but a seriously grim cough with blood mixed with wine. A fine sign aligned this shit is getting rough. Yes, time enough.