Lifestyle, Millennials, Poem, Short stories, Spells, Uncategorized

Prophecies from the Avenue

Manifestations and revelations

Astro traveling with no destination

Ego’s in search of a self destructive truth

Poets organizing melodies in a booth

Sleeping giants being resurrected

To the call of queens who’ve been disrespected

Werewolves who aren’t afraid of silver

Ghettos prophets without a filter

Everyone alive but no one living

Mercenaries who have forgot their mission

Many asking and only few being chose

Paved soil somehow birthing a rose

Dark clouds that blot out the sun

Free spirits being shunned

That which is seeking is being sought

Those who are teaching are being taught

Saved souls who prefer sinning

The last days are only the beginning

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What’s reality?

I believe that we are all afraid and because we are afraid we create personalities as defense mechanism against this world which seems so unpredictable at times.

We never know what will or won’t happen and it causes us to create super hero’s in our minds; who’s jobs are to protect of from the chaos.

In effect, these super hero’s become personalities that we take on often take on to fight anyone or anything perceived to threaten our so called existence.

If this is true, if we can create various personalities based on our fears and perceptions of the world; how can we really say that who we claim to be or what we claim to see is real?

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The Goat

Dear Self,

Lately I feel like it’s just me and you

Because no one understand the changes I’m going through

In my mind, if 1 wins, nobody can lose

So why do I feel so uncomfortable expressing good news?

Is it my fault that they got complacent?

While I built myself and reconstructing my foundation

I want it to be love but it feels like they hatin

Like they want me to fall and won’t mind waiting

Maybe they got used to me being broke

Now I be flexing like I’m selling dope

But you know something that they’ll never know

Like how even when it got dark I never lost hope

And even when it rain didn’t stop I saw over the rainbow

So I deserve the world and everything in it

And when I reach the top I’ll have you as my witness

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Memoirs: How To Love

Had a lot of crooks try to steal my heart

Sneaking through my windows

Breaking in my cars 

Smoking all indo

 tearing me apart 

So now on a corner, taking pills for my scars 

Because they hurt real bad 

Like waiting for your dad

But he never show,

so now ya momma mad

And you just want to see em 

Got ya your own swag,

but at a time you wanted to be him 

Another unarmed robber 

Tricking me with charm 

Let you passed the gates because you swore you’d do no harm 

But now I’m on the cement

Lying here bleeding

All because I can’t tell an angel from demon

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Memoirs: The “Hit em up” theory

What if Jesus didn’t rise on the third day and forgive those who had portrayed him?

What if came back in all black with guns ready to spray em?

What if he rose from the dead in his hospital bed?

And decided that whoever set him up was dead

Plus everyone at the last supper had to died too

he aint know who to trust when he rose from that tomb

So he called his henchmen, Gabriel was in the front

horsemen treading, equipped with the pumps

No Arc this time because everybody had to go

Since when he offered to save them they told him no

What if he smiled in delight as they were slowly devoured by thier own demons?

All because they chose to take his kindness for weakness

And when his father called to invoke a change of spirit

He turned off his phone because he wasn’t tryna hear it

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Sunrise’s At The Pier: Euphoric 

As I stood in the doorway, eyes piercing through the dark of the night, obsessing over satins unique ability to caress every curve and angle of her frame.
I received an impulse to approach my prey. So smitten I don’t recall how I traveled the distance. Maybe I glided, maybe my wings flew me towards my dream.

Losing control of my bodily functions-it was if my heart took control and didn’t require permission from my brain anymore-while she lay still on her back like a goddess waiting to be taken by her fierce gladiator.

My fingers began to caress the triangular parts of her body and steadily moved to the creasing parts of her spine, sliding towards the cushions of her backbone.

Between her thighs I feel the steam from her ocean shooting out like a rapid fire; enough to invoke a mist.

My palms soon seek refuge in her well groomed garden. My brain begins to function slightly but only enough for me to imagine the pleasures my extension may feel might I dare expose it to her narrow river.
This would not be the first time I’d taken a dip in these warm waters -where I’d been many times smalls distances between life and death-and it wouldn’t be the last.

while on this expedition toward passion I always retrieve myself moments before my demise. Within each step I take towards an inevitable death I feel I become more alive.

I have no control of myself yet full control of her, this is my final fantasy, this euphoria.

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Memoirs: Reciprocity 

I often read sayings/statements which discuss how ” there is always someone in the world willing to kiss/worship the ground we walk on” and I believe this is true; but I also believe that the people we meet in this life are a reflection of where we are in our human development. If this is true then it would mean that in order to receive such treatment one must be willing/able to reciprocate.

On the other hand, I also believe that someone who genuinely loved you would never allow you stoop so low as to worship them but would instead be too concerned with raising you up to your rightful state of being, your higherself, your highness.

This of course just my humbled opinion so don’t be afraid to tell me what you think.

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