Alternative History.

There’s a reason the black man abandoned the Pyramids of Giza.

There’s a reason Zimbabwe fell.

And the black man went back to a basic, natural existence.

God exists in distinct silence.

Let history be retold.

Industrial advancement serves not the spirit.

We all own the world.

Let history be rewritten

And guns relegated to shameful ashes.



I met you

It’s magic

I love you

It’s magic

It’s like that song once sang by Savage Garden

I loved you and it’s magic.

You walk right

Like magic

You talk right

It’s magic

I prayed and prayed that my Queen would find me

I calmed down and it was magic.

Courage is genius, power and magic

You in my arms

Is like music I love

That’s my classics

I waited and waited

Till you walked into my life

This fairy tale is magic.

You’re the magician

I’m your magic

You’re the sun

And I’m your East

You’re the moonlight

I’m the oceans

I twist and turn yearning for your touch.

You’re magic.

I Am What I Am.

All are parts of me

The cigarette smoke

Antacid tablets in my mouth

The poem

The mic

The words bespoke.



The charm

The magic of music.

This hope

The dregs

The sins

My allergy to bullshit.



My drink

My biz

Philosophies and writs

The politics and shit

I revel in all of it.



The women

The eccentric tastes

The charisma

The jazz and a rapper on stage

The schools

And churches

Whose destruction is imminent.

It’s all a part of me

This revolution is permanent.



The forgiveness

The love

The freedom that comes from a clean heart

The tenderness of the ages

That bond with God you can’t crack.



The truth

The message

Let all with ears hear it

The crown

Is black

Was charred and all else turned to ash.



The late nights

The sleepy days

Tupac rapping about better days

The cussing

The blasphemy

Redemption belongs to this age.



The Messiah

A fucking complex

Rationalising every little failing

The flag

Is a lie

Mankind was always one kind.



The grace

We deserve none

Is offered to all

This life we know of one

Happiness for all my only goal.




I’m a black man

I know I’m capable of what only black can,

We came

Not to conquer

But for peace to reign over our lands.



Cigarette smoke

And strong beer

Poetry I wrote

I will not chant

I rose from ashes a blue bird

I rule the skies and the road

Is my life clear.



I was waiting for the rain

To complete this poem

It’s pouring

It’s the name of my clan


Rebirth, imma name of my sons.

The Revolution of the Rogues.

The revolution of the rogues

This revolution demands we hate our masters

The revolution of the rogues

Calls for the slinging of illegal arms.

The revolution of the rogues demands we question the law

Deem it impotent and don capes,

Vigilantes on an irredeemable cause.

The revolution of the rogues

Demands we plug out of the mainstream and declare war.

The revolution of the rogues seeks to give hope

And foolish courage the irreducible minimum

Else brains nurtured in cathedrals and university halls

Turn us into zombies that eat flesh

Unaware that our home planet cannot bear the greed of us all.

Unaware of the chains around our necks

The revolution of the rogues means the empire must fall

The revolution of the rogues remains our only hope

Fuck sham elections

Democracy died and I erected its tombstone

The revolution of the rogues

Is what my God

Sanctioned and demands a blood offering to cleanse the earth

Of the disease of men who’ll never be satisfied until the earth is no more

The revolution of the rogues,

Men with nothing to lose

Whose mouths stink foul

From the vitriol

They spew against the rulers who preside over the doom of us all.

Men who made it despite the rules

But still give it for the freedom of my soul.

The revolution of the rogues

Is truth demonized and defamed

Legislated and propagated

For the sake of a few men of wealth.

The revolution of the rogues

Means morality and law

Can never be equal

In the eyes of love

The revolution of the rogues

Is scraping by

By the skin on the teeth

It remains my clarion call.

The revolution of the rogues

Is hope for the downtrodden and hopeless

The revolution of the rogues

Is real men standing for the thing they believe in.

By any means necessary

Man must be free.

The revolution of the rogues

That revolution where they can’t kill us all

The revolution of the rogues

I’m one of them.

PS. Shout outs to all the violent revolutionaries of the world

Man’s blood never nurtured the tree of freedom

But, revolt always is a step in the direction of divine freedom.



Being nothing is the absolute freedom

Shedding fancy clothing

Embracing soulful, beautiful nakedness 

Mankind is redeemed.

Being nothing

Simplicity is the shortest route to happiness

Mankind is redeemed

Looking at the being

Sitting next to me on the nowhere train

A wild ride into meaninglessness

Mankind is redeemed

My knee will be a rest from all the fighting

The power of word the reason for all this off key singing

Mankind is redeemed

Being nothing

The key to unlocking everything

Everything is a static point

And awareness of existence an ever dynamic expanding stream

Mankind is redeemed

I take on an immortal body

It’s nothing

It’s God

It’s darkness

It’s my black skin

It’s believing in love

None of it means anything

Mankind is redeemed

Mankind is redeemed

In nothing

With nothing

For nothing

Except taking charge of the business of being

And changing

And revolutions

And dying for something worth believing in.

Only that thing to die for is anything.

Mankind is redeemed.

Strange Poetry: On the Last Day of September.

On the last day of September

 I forgave the white man

For hating on a black brother

On the last day of September I was set free

But don’t you for a second think

It means

I won’t speak out against injustice

On the last day of September

My pain is from the wanton murder

Of black souls

That only strive to live in a world

Where love’s law

Is the only life’s code

On the last day of September

The inhumanity of slave ships brought tears to my eyes

On the last day of September

The lament of lost champions

And anthems became dirges

On the last day of September

My life became a sweet song

A song of freedom

That I’ll always share with my black folk.

On the last day of September I forgave the white man

But I’ll kneel for the slaughter, slavery and corruption that only black knows.

On the last day of September I set myself free.