Black Merc 0202-0-16

Lately I’ve been

drifting.

My old structure

of strict militant ways.

Don’t know how

long before.

I’ll be consumed

by the flames.

The past be the

past.

Glued stuck to my frustrated

psyche.

Being bound to

something worst.

Confused that sometimes

the worst deeds can set you

Free.

Mind filthy, rotting away off

The bones of my

decaying last good memories.

Life’s snap shots of

seconds of smiles and laughter.

Then Jokes become

sloppy.

The laughter becomes

annoying.

Reality kicks into

Dissipated smiles.

The heart is distantly

colder like a halleys Comet.

As I rapidly forget short

Small numbers and sentences.

I won’t die…

I’m dieing slowly along

the way.

Experiencing that first hand

failure to control crashing

Into ashes.

Warped feelings overdosed, lusting

for violence and gun powdery

children’s cereal.

Maybe inching instantly

towards a whole

solid insanity plea.

Watching humans devour there

nurturers and there nurtured.

A thick book deal guide through

corruption, scams,

set ups and confusion.

More and more I

Aggressively drift back

into that.

Predictably same facial

expression that never changes.

No matter the emotion, excitement

Happyness of whatever

Joy is.

My face will always look

The exact same.

My face stays stuck trying

to comprehend.

Why everyone looks

at me like I’m a stone.

Maybe I am one to

Think of.

I fail the try outs…

Then become more

upset that I pathetically try to hard.

Or is just never close

To enough.

All humans are born with

A heart’s worth of emotions.

Yes that is fact…

What do you call a human

That has to program there self to?

Feel it….

Or know when to receive it…

Reciprocate it in a way to

Trust the other.

Note that it’s not always

Out to break you or kill you.

From the inside out…

I feel less and less emotions

like when I was younger.

My emotions are plumiting

Stocks all over again.

A very bad investment…

Back to who I was not

supposed to been.

The rebirth of chaos is

about to began.

I can feel it..

It’s me…

I am chaos…

The second coming…

Is on the way…

Free Us…

So we will be one with our former self…

The form of a poker face…

Dead from With in…

The Black Mercury……..

“Crimson Skins By Devika Mathur”

Crimson Skins

Ok…

There comes a time in every persons life.Where we all have to make wise decisions. One false decision can alter the course of your life. Sometimes for the worst!

Luckily…….

I made one great decision…..


A wonderful decision….

A wise decision….


I bought me a copy of

        “Crimson Skins Poetry & Prose!”

A book by the artist, writer and poet!

                “Devika Mathur”

@my.valiant.soul

https://myvaliantsoulsblog.wordpress.com/

     

When the book arrived. First I tore open the cardboard it was in. To my surprise! This book was so soft like her wordplay it felt like velvet. I couldn’t stop rubbing my hand and face up against the book cover. Like I was on some type of psychedelic trip. This book should have been called the Velvet skins.                    

Seriously though…

“If you don’t know her then you better get familiar….”

Her words are so humbling and soft. It’s almost like she’s whispering in your ear.

Her mind is intricately interesting, yet mysterious and challenging.. True art takes time to visualize the meaning. That’s why people stand in front of painting etc, at art Studios forever.

Now there are many talented artist on here. Me personally I have my top 5 poets. Not like the typical cliche poets. They know who they exactly who they are. Keep writing no matter what.

Look people….

Imma keep it all they way real….

We must support our artist!

We absolutely must!

Everyday, month and year.

You sit there and read..

Type your sincerest complements…

Interacting day to day…

With your favorite artist….

If you can do that. Mean every damn word you say. Even give your high praises. To your favorite true artist!

It shouldn’t be a problem for you purchasing there material.

Don’t build people up to let them down!

Make there hard work apart of your collection at home.
Give. Give your favorite artist hope! Give them a reason to know there appreciated. That’s love…..

Peace and blessings to all!

                       Thank you Devika!

For dropping diamonds and peace and blessings to all!

       

                     

I’m Not A Poet… I’m A Retired Gangster…

“I will never be a slave to correct-ness”

 

 

The pharoh the phenomenon of my ancestors blood be aware that all the gold diamonds will return back to mud nothing but speech diseases spreading beheading my hope problems get swollowed like contraband down the throat kids bids baby bibs tears I swear I’m going crazy here just because I  was born here don’t make me from here light beer turned to wine for this light year age of the Aquarius how old is she or he then bend metal with the mind open in position for the positive mind to expand like big dick up in a uturus I do what I want with no pause button for my future to end with words from faces like he was a real man so there is no one more loyal than I am reciting the Torah in a Moorish clothing baited by feds but they never cought me fuck the world for breeding criticism in everything like you should do this and you should do that No Chris do what the hell Chris wants to do my murder will be standing up from the people who say you can’t you can and when I get into my comfy burgundy velvet casket drop me in it upside down so you can kiss my dead ass cheeks you bastards

Pain Killers

I died today…
Rest in peace…
So sad my life
ended like it started.
Addiction…
I couldn’t shake
it so I dissolved
in my own bag
of brown sugar.
The pain it wouldn’t
stop, the flames
were very hot and
I’ve stained the
minds of lots,
but only after death.
No pot to piss
in so I stole yours.
Bewildered…
Kicking in door
after door only
to find more
problems on
the other side.
Your irresponsible
lectures turned me
out. Making me
heartless.
This is evidence
that supports
and confirms
my statements.
I laid on her
stomach at
night rubbing
my fingers on
her cesarean
scars and she
took her
pocket knife
that was already
stained with
her past lovers
blood and
stabbed me
in the back
and twisted
the blade
until it broken
in my flesh
to create
more pain.
I didn’t die
from that.
I died because
I loved for
one second to
many and
turned my back.
That was
the first time
my tears created
acid that
dropped in my
hands and burned
away the calluses.
I am so glad to
be dead.