Shadow of supremacy

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 They stand against the light to cast shadows, that make our paths dark, it’s no wonder we got lost on our way home. We once sat on gold thrones, now we beg thieves for a place in our own home…

we’ve been taught to fight their shadows, with the shade we throw, while the grave they dug for us grows and grows…Go to their schools to borrow our own ideas, the innovators become imitators, in hopes to integrate, into their hateful ways..  

 When they can’t break us, they’ll force us to bend, and blend, into the violent trends they set without regrets. They’ll pretend to be our friends, tell us they mean “no offence” …while keeping our very being misunderstood.

Until we end up in a shadow war with no end. Cast by burning crosses ,pointed hoods…and fear 

 

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Atlantic 

Waves dance like Devine feline across the shoreline.

A moon so full it would ware out a ware wolf, universal candle light that burns through the night…
salty air fills my lungs without a grudge in sight…

The sea barks but doesn’t bite, rather it swallows things whole…

Palm trees wave to the breezes as they pass…
alas, I had found a new home for my soul …and I hoped it would last for long as the sea was vast…

The mad men I met

I met  preacher man, who would twist his own philosophy, purposely, to make short term profit off a long term prophecy.

I met a bunch of bankers ,that toppled the economy

I met a politician, with his vision, so impaired, he was unaware, of his hypocrisy, trying to force democracy, using guns and bureaucracy

Hell…I even met a martyr with a life insurance policy…

 

Free demons  

I drank litres of holy water, to drown my inner demons. It boiled inside of me, and I spat hot steam in the face of a foe….I then tried to fight fire with fire, and singed my sour soul in the process. 

At my wits end, I spoke to the demons, in hope we might become friends…

I was never once intimate, with these hellish inmates of my natural state, but now we have an agreement…They told me they’re only there because I need them… So where there is no love to be lost, I free them…

...And I feed them, the very face of injustice, when my pride is no longer edible…With every inequity they see , they revel… When a sense of duty possesses me, and brings out my inner rebel… I smile, as I remember my deal with the devil. 

Poor placename 

The third world, from whence life first came. 

The bronze medalist, that sleeps on beds of gold. That has spent far too long running from race, and dying from foreign AIDS… The farmer with an empty plate, who put food on everyone’s table. The source of pride to many. Despite its discounted  label.

 There is really only one world. A cruel one…”third” is just a fable.