Poetic State Of Mind


Rebel [ n., adj. rebuhl; v. ri-bel ]

Walking in the shadows of many men,
Hold up, hold up, HOOLLLD UP!

In the shoes of many men?
I’d rather walk alone in these Polo
Ralph Laurens,

You see what you have here is a
Immune to orders I follow my own,
They embrace peace, I’m prone,
Because peace was once the difference
between slavery and insanity,

A college dropout.
Branded aimless but I aim to pay less
attention to the syndicates who are
accustomed to recklessness,

A non conformist,
Many times my religion has been
placed under the spot light,
I tell them I believe in a being
way higher than me,
Way higher than you,
But guiding us through and through,

A dictator of my own ways,
I’ll decide where to sleep,
Where to pee, take a dump
And the rent, when to pay,

You see Mr manager your services
are shitty,
And I believe in equality,
So although you may hold the room key
Bear in mind that I own the master key
to feed your pockets that run deep,

I won’t shut up to what is
morally unacceptable?
And what are even morals to
the taxi driver who lost his
life in South Africa all because of
the law?

What are morals to Trayvon
Martins family, after losing
their son?
Should we even give alms to
law enforcers at all?

I’m in pursuit to live life
the way I want to,
I don’t give a damn about
the polls,
Why should I when the outcome
is the same old news?

Pull your pants up they say,
Don’t get a tattoo,
Its the devils way,

Why are you smoking that anyway?
Tirades upon tirades but they
act like they never acted this
scene from the days of Senwa

Try converting a prostitute
into a nun,
Try taking that gun away from
a man who watched his family
die in a hospital without a single thing
being done,

Why pay taxes if my taxes are going
to be taxed out of Mr Keep A Changes’
Holidae Inn expense?

Speak to the elderly with respect,
But cut your tongue when disrespected
because you of seniority?
I’ll be damned if I play donkey to their
verbal whips,
Massa forget, we all vex,

I’ll start a war if I have to,
It doesn’t matter the number,
If the purpose is reverberated
amongst the fewest of masses
Then we’ll fight till we’re buried
down under,

I’ll spit on the ground if I have to
Pull a middle finger and scream
“The gods asked me to reach out and
touch you”


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s