Crushing silver glass Shards skip from underneath frozen toes Made of steel
Asphalt speckled with Rusted blood Sewn into its structure Lay foundation for midnights
Be Bopping buzz Bombards walls of stone As metallic shadows move Within sound Like a gasp during orgasm
Illuminating heaven Creates Sun in neon plasma
As hues of man Collide like avalanche conversations With disgruntled boulders
“The Weight of the World on My Shoulders!”
Penetrates frustrated air Too thick headed To thin itself As old age draped in mud and Thunderbird Holds strong nappy silver mane roots Between weather-beaten Palms Crying his sweat-drenched sermon To his congregation of rats As the choir bumps Ca’mron And children sing Oh Boy
Niggers walk in wolf-packed clothing Holding Bagging and processing their deaths All with gold-rooted smiles
While little chocolate covered angels Double-Dutch tomorrow Through slaps to asphalt behinds
It’s all intertwined In the metropolis of my inner My soul explains tapestries Of ancient tablets Spoken through non-verbal communication
The violets-indigos-negroes-and whites Are my guide through cerebral translations Of Hennessey dreams As I sleep After another late night And the scent of street stench Permeate blankets And coat the fantasy Of nocturnal bedlam
For I dream in motion And travel in sound Unraveling Truths foretold In shaman stories
My father said to follow my own path To see it clearly As if it were right in front of me I wonder, As I praise his life And mourn his passing
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