The rat tamer

They’re in the dark corners you pretend not to notice, and they come out to play when it’s dirty inside… or sometimes just at random…
The rats that you tried to hide, running rampant chewing up your curtains and carpets…taking your values for randsome. They grow if you feed them, they become rabid when you attack them, they only get smarter when you try to trap them.
Try to drown them in poison, that might kill you too… So what can you really do?… except make it worse…

Well, we all have rats ofcourse, and You can’t get rid of them, you just have to find a way to learn to live with yours.

Sincerely,
The rat tamer

The weightless man

‘the weightless man’

I used to think money was synonymous with power.
I used to think walking away was being a coward
I used to think space and time were only inches and hours… I used to think too much, and realised to little… I realised brittle, foundations will topple even the tallest towers
I realised letting go will surely see your soul scoured
I realised i was made by, and for this world
The way a tree makes a flower
Created to create, to blossom into somthing great, before i fade away again, back into time and space… I used to think, until i started to realise, now i can be…

its like a jungle sometimes

This is what the inside of my head looks like at any given moment haha

Ive been circulating this painting on social media asking people what animals they can see… the elephant seems to be the hardest one to find…test your third eye vision and try and find that elephant! IMG_20171207_195958

In colour and in rhyme

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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

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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 

 

miss kemet

They would ridicule, they would laugh.

They would stand in her way with envy and wrath.

but she builds pyamids with the blocks they place in her path.

she knows the shadow of the great sphinx could be cast by a scare crow,

and so, her fears would rule her if she didn’t learn to let go…

when she did, miss kemet had become  Pharoah.

 

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“I am not a perfect soul, i am a soul perfecting… i am not a human being, i am a human becoming” -egyptian book of the dead

whispers and screams

(Co-written by @fontsize4poetry)

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They tell me that I’m no good.
Crawling up along my shoulder blades, they cling to my ear lobes and pull up.
Whispering with conviction-
Look at you. Ugh. Do better.
They tell me it’s my fault, pushing back my shoulders, tugging aggressively on my ear lobes, screaming with assertion.
Look at you. Eww. Be better.
My heart beat begins to play bass to this sinister symphony of whispers and screams…
I know the music won’t last but I can’t help but hate that I can’t change the tune… They drag me down often, make this body of mine an object to be poked, and teased, and pulled apart, limb from limb like I aint shit to anyone.
I am no temple when they come around.
I remain forever bound, to the two sinister sounds no one else can hear, my feet glued to the ground, my self put in a cell…so no one else can hear… any of my whispers or screams for help.

Fake flowers 

Dear inventor of fake flowers, why?

I understand that maybe you just wanted to capture beauty and keep it forever,

but don’t you let people believe that looks will last.

Didn’t you realise that there is beauty in aging,

that there is character to the bunch with a few wilting stems?

You can’t trick me into believing that there is beauty in perfection,

see I’ve tried to reach it and failed many times.

Starved of water, we all die,

so how can pretty be pretty without the spark of alive?

See, this bunch may have been beautiful at first glance,

but I’ve had it for years now and nothings changed.

No new sprouts, no death-

No need to nurture and love for that won’t affect these fakes.

I don’t even look at them anymore.

Beautiful as they may be, they are less beautiful to me knowing that this is all that they will ever be.

Dear lover,

please don’t ever buy me fake flowers with the hope that I will feel comforted by everlasting beauty.

Buy me ones that will die.

One’s that I will therefore cherish for every moment that they are alive,

One’s with bruised petals and wilting stems but still fragrant so that I can see that beautiful is more than meets the eye.

Dear inventor of fake flowers, why?

Poetry by the amazingly talented https://fontsize4poetry.com

Blossom 

As I shift my focus towards what the lotus shows us,

I start to notice so much more,

its like hocus pocus and I’m free from the locust swarm of the norm,

returning to the form In which was born.

A new seed planted in my mind.

I Fertilised my perspective, to be less selective.

I now adore what I once abhorred.

I looked past the lies, and found I could photosynthesise… because that light inside us all…seems to be the only thing that feeds my eyes at all.
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Paper tigers 

Paper tigers on the paper trail, earning their stripes without fail.

The Hunter talks of taking the beast by its tail, while the shepherd tells comforting wife’s tales, to the rest of the villagers praying not to fall prey.
Those from the west begin to flee east, from the heardless beast, that didn’t roar to be heard. The eye of the Tiger speaks a thousand words, all of which are echos of death.
Prowling quietly, growling silently, crouching low before it pounces violently…

Shades of black and bright vermillion, like a frightening fire that freezes millions… The Hunter tries to ride the Tiger wild, the shepherd would rather see it tamed.
They all fail to understand. To the beast, everyone is game… regardless of where they may stand.
Paper tigers lead us to the paper trial…