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Poetry

X-MEN

It’s like where the X-Men
And Daniel is Wolverine
Skelton like emotions coded with antimantiem as swag
Liquid stanzas dancing like a warrior’s song inside his heart beat
And if he doesn’t speak what’s on his mind he might burst
Truth spoken poems woven into his spine like surgical procedures
But like a true leader he always puts his team first

And Lemell is definitely Nightcrawler never really present but always present
At the very second you need him most
Skinny yet possess a will stronger than sulfuric acid burning through hardships
A poets tongue shoved between a preachers lips
Pieces composed of prayers pent together in his finger tips
Shadow boxing with God’s favor

And Christian… Rogue a marvel waiting to explode from inside
Uncertainty ticking like a nuclear bomb beneath the calm in her vocal chords
Poems punching out the animals of self-doubt fleeing from her spirit
Trying to fight back tears with the strength of tsunami memories
And she’ll be able to fly one day
Just from the touch of destiny’s skin absorbing truth
Confidence cascading a quite constellation caught in Gods cornea

X-Men

And Rani… now that’s Psylocke
One person 2 body’s cervix inertias fighting like the moon vs. the sun
De-mens lying like devils crying and she is just trying to become one
With herself
Pen slicing like schizophrenic psychic blades across a lonely notebook page
While the truth runs like Christ out of an empty grave
My daughter from Shambala our minds the same half poet half insane
Troubled waters doused in heavens flames natural beauty’ embedded in her brain
While Lola’s like a lyrical liaison words dancing on the tip of her tongue
But I am so proud of who they both will become

Hey yo son dat dude Armand, Cyclops
Ambitions blended with sharp lyricism locked in on fate
Potent paragraphs like seismic blasts
A solar flare crashing into midnight
Powered on the inside by concealed feelings
Covered with the prophetic habits of rose colored glasses
So you can never really stair behind the stanzas
In scripted on the surface of eyelid intentions

On stage next to Nikki aka Jean Gray
Pulling the polluted princess from out of a queens DNA
Fueled by competitive flames
Creative fire tide rising like a Phoenix from the page
Transcending freedom on the wings of salvation erasing uncertainty
Until the scores no longer matter
While every line from her mind splits mater
Stanzas like a telekinetic dancer

My nigga Shaq
Dats Gambit da gambler sly ass pimp diva
La Bella Prince finger prints heating up poetic pamphlets for protest
Freeing  the dumb until freedom is there only process
Master at shuffling life’s madness like a card deck
Snatching victory from the clutches of impossible
Regardless of the unfair hand he was dealt

Now Nakia, that’s Storm
Ensence the mental stimulant wordplay like a weather witch
Thesis that speak with thunder writing like lighting
True poet griot goddess with a nation of narration and Nommo woven into her lisp

We are X-Men

Now get this, Melvin… dat nigga is Bishop
Verbally injected his verses with a virus  sick
With Uncanny wit, ahead of his time
Like he traveled back in time with futuristic rhymes to spit
The ability to absorb life’s negativity transmitted into creative energy
And fired back with intensity into the face of the bullshit
Vocals ripping vivid imagery with ghosts inside his cadence
In the form of secret agents downloading rhyme schemes
Wordplay that plays like bootleg movies on widescreens

Taylor… Mystique, deep, unique
Emotional shapshifter, flipping drifting shifting
Love into enlightenment with a smile bigger than her excitement
Standing in front of a mic about to rip

Tierra is shadow cat, because she disappeared
After I pushed her too hard through a wall of her own apathy
I’m sorry

I’m telling you were the X-Men

Thomas is Iceman
He’s on the team wait he’s not
Oh he’s back now? He isn’t?
Feelings covered by a cold too frigged for faith to witness

Coco you know that’s Jubilee
Poetic inspiration in the form of sparks
Shooting from her finger tips like testimonies
Setting the listener free

And Alison, she’s obviously Emma Frost, the White Queen
Not always quite clear if she can be on the team
Compositions frozen mental fire spoken inspired motions floating
Metaphors molding meaning from mystery

See we are not poets we are X-Men
And Olu is Princess Lilandra naturally
Poet from another planet imaginatively
Dashing through galaxies
Mother landing the mother-ship
Nourishment and leadership provided in abundance


Now Kenneth, my nemesis Professor X the best
Actually practices what he poets like mantras
Telepath paragraphs that lift mind-states out of depression
Inspiring future leaders once lost
Cerebral maps etched by life’s lessons
From children split like atoms
Who fought monsters mentally mangled
by the mutations of adolescence
Pieces that lift injured spirits like a telekinetic stretcher
Trying with just drive and a message to make an entire community rise
Like prostitutes off of knees when a job is finally finished
Resources reneged upon budgets ripped by recession
Cause trying to save the world with poetic lines and purpose that’s divine
It’s like trying to stand straight with a shattered spine vertebrate victimized                                                 by city council lies, or win a political foot race while paralyzed poems pounding pavement                    With no trace of where the inflection changes like pages without lines

And I’m, will me, I am Magneto
A villain who wants to believe he can be the hero
And I am willing to bring this pitiful place to its hateful knees
Like a happy hooker if it means saving my people
Poets… or rather mutants with unusual inhuman powers on microphones
A poetic leap forward in artistry’s evolution
Inspiration locked in our DNA codes ready to explode like smashed atoms
Because coaching a team of young poets is like leading a league of mutants into Genosha

Limitless liquid dimensions cosmic creative energy looping at light speed inside of God’s circular system
Listen I am a freaking mutant and mics are made of metal making my emotions magnetize meaning Magneto
And it seems like pain is what I attract the most
And this electromictetic force field composed of poems
Won’t protect me from my reality
But maybe if I pull purpose and good people in my direction
The intensity of this magnetized inspiration can positively affect them
Cause I’m a bit vicious spewing verbal venom with my villainous ways
But I promise you my intentions are as righteous as white kids
Rocking Che Guevara shirts with no idea who he is

Magnetic mind manipulation and just maybe I can reverse the polarity of this magnetic energy
If I pull enough love out of the people shrouding me
Metamecha metallics the inertia pull of gravity inside of our chest cavity
The philosophers stone rhythm of your heart beaten into a shattered jewel
There are precious metals inside all of you

And I am not a poet, I am an alchemist
Stare into your soul’s entrance and tell you the truth
It’s not worth it don’t pursue this
As useless as Eunuch’s a naked savior dancing to the muted music of purpose
Go get a freaking job, wield your words on weekends
This poetic preaching is worthless
Don’t pick up a pen it I’ll make you a mutant… an X
Men

And you already know
That we don’t play super heroes
We are super heroes
We are X-Men

 

 

Sundiata Lives!



Your skull is like a plantation
And the follicles that grow are the people
The slaves
Engraved into their patterns like braids
And over time your mind has been fertilized to produce bullshit
And the fruit of your roots pummeled by the pesticides of propaganda and media lies
Hugggggggh… let us begin

You see perms are the processed or rather the process of slavery
Relaxing the conditions or actually conditioning you to relax in your conditions
Washing what’s on your brain or rather brain washing what’s on your brain
Perms permanently perming the permanence permeating your permanent condition
Haaaaaa… but I’m just bullshiting (laughter)
Cause once you’re relaxed in your perm-anently enslaved state
Hair (lol) comes the conditioner of scripture to keep you straight
No need to look to the goddess she not safe
They’ve already strained her with a straightener
So now you straight

Announcement… too many black people vote!


What up my nigga…

(‎imagine how much power we would have if we stopped giving them the power, stopped asking and did)

pay attention to the mathematics of the mentally imprisoned
See it’s all about division
Cause once you’ve been processed into submission
like prison
you now move in contradiction to your natural condition
making it easier for them to “part” the people into a particular position
cause now we split, worried about making ends
work till you can barely stand to your feet
but your doom for defeat if you work to your bitter end yet the ends still don’t meet
so we try to split ends and like spliffs we split at the end
and at the end we just split, with no ends



I tell you… Jesus just might have been the worst thing to ever happen to niggez!

(if you walk into an old black ladies house and see a picture of a white Jesus on the wall, in your mind do you say hey its white Jesus? no you just think hey its Jesus… smh)

Alright… so you rinse and repeat, the same process of being processed
Generation after generation of genocide with more follicle homicide as the onset
Yo roots then died and been fried like HipHop and chicken
Got you a whole spread of HipHop Chicken (like they a catering company or something)

White Jesus walking across led infested troubled tap waters bleeding saintly salvation from the spigot
Ascending from a bucket of fresh chitlens griping a plate of baphamets best bacon glistening
on top of a buttered boule biscuit
shake yo body at the party to that new illuminati bitches

now let me show you wack spitting mimics the difference
between hoetry and poetry
your writing ability has absolutely everything to do with your intellectual agility
yet your poetic content is more like politics
pseudo conscience nonsense
a bunch of non-innovative writers and closet coons
cinema enemas pretending to be progressive with yo pen tip
but didn’t innovate shit
your stanzas sound like already chewed food when you spit
your barely Tyler Perry bitch
while I’m Patrice O’ Neal with the skill
Dick Gregory with a savory rhyme scheme mixed
with Dave Chappelle’s resistance
none of you poets are better at poetry than me
you’re just better at promoting poetry than me
fuck this shit!

(but anyway, I digress) I guess?


the first slaves came over on a ship named Jesus
than slaves were whipped and put in chains in the name of Jesus
now you sing and make praise in the name of Jesus
now I’m not hating on that nigga Jesus
cause Jesus is that nigga
but nigga I’m just saying, you know what I’m saying nigga

I should probably just stop now right? Write?

See honestly Madam CJ Walker was a bigger king pin
Than Rick Ross could have ever been
You could lay a whale scale in front of bale
And try to weigh the difference
Between crack rock and Chris Rock movie scripts
And niggez still wouldn’t get it
It’s not your hair that’s bad it’s your dammed condition

Cause your scalp is a plantation
And the folicos that grow on the surface are the people

And just cause you got locks don’t mean that you then unlocked shit
Just locked in to thinking you on some conscience shit
Cause you went from instant to incense
Bunch of iligentiment Islamic fundamentalists fumbling over their own common sense
The gods in your nations earth leaning towards the east for peace
The Rasta in the streets with imposter beneath his speech
Niggez be more Mormon than Moorish contaminated by the beast
Giving me a kemetic headache with the aesthetic of pseudo deep
Faking like you then awakened but beneath the plantations archers you still sleep
Yea you got locks but you still locked in to one way of thinking
Why you think they called locks then?
You better un-lock something from within

I mean what’s the point honestly
Cause it seems that HipHop is dead
And poetry is gay

Literally

You must be out of yo cotton picking mind
Maybe you need to watch “The Help” a few times
While setting beside someone from those times
Before the truth can actually rise
Cause there are clearly crops of cotton caught in yo mind

Too relaxed by the lye of lies to realize
Pressed until you barely alive
Trying to weave together a way to survive
Comatose by time
You better wake up or die  

I bet you didn’t even know
That “Frederick Douglas fights monsters that pee on people’s eyes”

Now let’s open wide
I’m a take you to the other side
No bullshit, far past the polatricks and drama
Word to the tender scalp on my nappy headed mama
I’m talking aliens, Egypt and Shambala

With just enough creamy crack in the crevasse of your naps
To snap Harriet Tubman back into the act
You deserve a pimp smack for that wack ass snatch back

Beyond conditioned so assimilated that you’re dyeing to be a patriot of this nation
Manipulated by traditions, vicious Christian convictions
Dripping like lard from the fixings in the kitchen
The devils hot mittens flipping, sistas barely getting back in the kitchen
But you forgot barely remembering the wisdom positioned in the back of yo kitchen

Obviously its plan to see that the poison P’S axioms of niggerdom remain a dire concern
I’m talking about pork and perms

Just observe the mess we stressed
Post traumatic slave syndrome at its best
While we still dying to find “change”
Yet the money changers
Is getting ready to change the money
Times change

And tables turn while Korans and Bibles burn
And we still have not learned a damm thing
I can hear angels sing
Sam Cook blended with the instruments of desperation
dancing in dirty water

Shit

You want to know the source to all the world’s problems?

Black girls need fathers!

Mangled by midnight talking to toddlers dangling in the web of lucifiaren light
We listen to the live fiction of religion and engage in the most ignorantists of fights

Cause you grandmama’s grandmama’s grandmama’s grandmamma
Use to ship Jesus juice from the bitter cup of life
Past it around like communion at the family reunion
Hand it down to yo daughters and yo sons
While the truth gets left behind like hitch hikers without thumbs

Now pump da brakes brace your face to embrace the lyrical lava
See I am simply Sundiata
The shadow of a griot who speaks for Slangston in the language of heartbeats and drums
Succumb by drama dogma and despair demonic deities doggery and death dancing in the air

I am not a priest or a preacher just a poet who speaks the truth and that shit is rare

Now run your hand through your hair, that’s the people right there
Touch the surface of the earth underneath
The thoughts caught in the roots the purpose and the prayers
Those is ghost down there
Haunting yo mind trying to find freedom

But your scalp is a plantation and the follicles that grow are the people
The slaves, the children, mothers, daughters, fathers, sons, babies, bitches and niggez
Your existence a ticket purchased in pain by the price they paid
“elegant heart beats of the sun’s flame”

GOD
Her greatest gift
Locked in chains
Dyeing to live

You know I heard that Jesus was coming back
And that nigga probably is… but write now
SUNDIATA LIVES!!!!

 

ASHE’ MUTHER FUCKERS!!!!

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