In colour and in rhyme

the walk

“We are all here for a reason on a particular path
You don’t need a curriculum to know that you’re apart of the math
Cats think I’m delirious but I’m so damn serious
That’s why I expose my soul to the globe; the world
I’m tryin’ to make it better for these little boys and girls
I’m not just another individual
My spirit is a part of this, that’s why it’s spiritual
But I get my hymns from him
So it’s not me, it’s he, that’s lyrical
I’m not a miracle, I’m a heaven sent instrument
My rhythmatic regiment navigates melodic notes
For your soul and your mental
That’s why I’m instrumental, vibrations is what I’m into
Yeah I need my loot by rent day
But that ain’t what gives me the heart of Kunta Kinte
I’m tryin’ to give us us free like Sinke
I can’t stop, that’s why I’m hot
Determination, dedication, motivation
I’m talking to you of my many inspirations
When I say I can’t let you or self down
If I were on the highest cliff, on the highest riff
And if you slipped off the side, and clinched on to your life,
In my grip. I would never ever let you down
And when these words are found
Let it be known that God’s penmanship has been signed
With a language called love
That’s why my breath is felt by the death
And while my words are heard and confined to the ears of the blind
I too dream in color and in rhyme

So I guess I’m one of a kind in a full house
Cause whenever I open my heart, my soul or my mouth
A touch of god reigns out.” 

This poem by j. Ivy. was recorded on the track “never let you down” on kanye wests graduation album in 2004 .



Shadow of supremacy


 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 


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…


Sheepish lion 

The sheep only thinks of his safety, and grass, so a lion shouldn’t lose sleep over its opinion, unless that grass is in the lions dominion. 
Unless that grass was meant to fatten the gazelle, the lion had been eyeing, unless that grass made the bed in which the lion had been lying. 
The tired lion that courts discomfort, broods over food, in the abundant jungle, remains wakeful, counting sheep to fall asleep .

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. 


Three for two. One for free.

Childish deception.


My handwriting Lined lies. Drinking spirits in my sleep,tired of waiting…

My Lies outlined.

Written in my hands. Waiting to be tired, eating sleep through troubled spirits.


Deceived a child.

Two for three.  Free for one.

saviour self

Single units too unfit to fit in.A random jigsaw piece, in pieces, nailed to a system of sadistic statistics.

Two faced barriers, that crossed the line, blocking positive paths.

Many go through hell, asking their demons for help… receiving death, before perceiving life.

No law, and no man can crucifix a persons persecuted personality. Except he that sings hymns to himself, or she, who learns to see, her once evil flaws as divine imperfections.

Many give directions, None can change one’s path. None can solve the mystery within ones self . Many will try, but only you know, what it takes to save  yourself





falling free

Trust falls

  Letting go

                      Hoping               Praying

              To be held                                         For a parachute

                  Free falling

               Holding onto Faith’s hand,                                      ;shaking  fates hand

                     ;          Letting go          ,

                         Trust falls

                                  Faith stands still…………………..fate remains un-shifted                                                                                                  …

                                                                     Rising high                  Falling free                                                                                 …                                                    .

             Letting everything go

       Trust falling into fates arms 

Destiny the destination.   Falling towards tomorrow’s landing pad.    Grasping faith.

Crash landing into brighter day


No matter how many times you shuffled the pack, there was one who just wouldn’t fit in. 

The joker, who was dealt a back-hand, but never stopped trying to be a king. 

The trouble maker, that never stopped fighting, for what was right. 

The lone wolf that did not bite. 

The little star, that would twinkle for  everyone, by night. But be long gone by day 

The reclusive monk that didn’t pray. 

The freak. The bad boy. The weirdo. 

The social superhero, that would not be unmasked. 

The half-caste. The outcast. 

The ‘nice guy’

…your  friendly neighbourhood loner.