Simple World: Magic

The world has shifted and so has magic. The magic we once knew is still the same but expressed through a different lens. The old and the new magic both exist but the language may have adapted to accommodate our new reality. Simple, the stars have fallen down into our hands. We no longer look into the stars, we look down into our phones. Like a bowl of water, we watch, predict, fail, lie, smile, laugh, join, expose all of which we have into this bowl of stars.

Magic has always worked with the sky, either through oral telling, invoking, incantation, photosynthesis. Magic always is, regardless which ever medium exist. Its all about perspective. The old magic appears far and far more like a fairy tale to the new audience: we the people. Our new magic system is not so fantasy like, it is our reality, we call on the system day to day. When we wake up, we engage into the blue light, register our faces, and then past present and future time is revealed in an instant. We are accessors or capturers of time. When you exist in your own medium, magic should always feel less fantasy, more in the line of rare or hard to find but it exist. Take any piece of technology we have now back to anyone from the 300 years ago, and you may just find yourself tied to a stake.

Simple World: Random

Life keeps pushing further into the year. The sun is consistent. Are we? Humans inhabiting the earth. Are we consistent in keeping this earth from dying or are we consistent in destroying this very earth?

I have three animals within me: a sheep, a tiger and a demon. All three make me who I am. All I need to function as a full fleshed human. Every emotions I give to these three and they consume.

Simple World: migration

I have fluttered between the lines of imported identity and every day I continue to dabble in and out of a constrained line of thought. Growing into this man, I clearly see both my weakness and the lines that should be crossed. At this point I can not boldly say I revere in the sunken state of this blue light that filters through pixelated devices. There is an arrogance I hold, unneeded at sometimes. I need to let go of the darkness that surrounds me. I need some of form of light to balance my thought…….

Simple World: black balance

Random: at our core. We grow up understanding this basic principle of life. For example, the idea of power; Our tribe-culture understands the diversity of what the word brings but we don’t dwell on that bad knowledge in past tense form, we grow up seeing, speaking, dancing, feeling, eating with the two sides of power at equal lengths. The infiltration and desimation of our culture has broken that stability so much we stand fully with the yin, the controlled. The yang; uncontrollable side we have blindly left, that’s why I believe we are stuck in this revolving control system never accounting for the balance that will come. I think for our balance to scale back to the middle, we lots must face real time repercussions of dwelling in the yin for this long.

black ptsd

Flexing while in motion

The hate builds up when

Brown passes brown

That hate placed in baby cries

Brown destroying brown

Only the strong survives mantra

The crabs the hoes and the weak

Don’t forget

At the neck when you bite

Gutter jungle sounds bytes

Metrics and vulture cycles

One Dollar bill mixed with blood and

Vengeance

Passed onto my unborn

Repeating my man made history

Always left bare with pain

Emotions always tight gripped

No leaks or spill overs

Running the maze

Holding the cross for

Another’s man race

Homecoming

I think about you from time to time

Every part of you

The corners, crescents

The way your eyes shines when the evening settles

Red earth: your body when the afternoon dust rests

I think about you when I’m alone

You must know

I still smell

you

Real memories now turned into star pointing

Gazing when the night is dark and the moon just bright right

Testify

My mind is in the right place now

Heart clutched and seized for a second

Pumped only after I ran the mile

Keep going back to the center

To who I am

My voice within

No matter how much I skid

sideways, tunnel away

Money money

Greed and some green

Blinding light on Dior street

Never the real thing

Can’t fake the sun

My brown skin show the true gems

Taste for finer things

Tongue tasting, many feigns

Vices in all forms

Distractions in headache pills

The years then stretch

Yet I circumvent

Back to my core

Blood on paper

arteries pouring out

Ink and soul-spill

Splattered on word docs

Simple World: Using Culture for Survival

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Using culture for survival, not to antagonize: creating division amongst a generation that have more things in common than any era to have lived on earth.

Imagine a world, evil hiding in the presence of good. Acting, representing all the glamour and glitz associated with serenity only to lose one step down then the true face appears.

The idea to go back home after all this years of pillaging through the mud and rain of another country has hope burning crawling through my veins. Having fought hard to come here to this place, I now find myself fighting life itself to go back home. Rejection spews out of me with every attempt, every sweat, and every shiver. Through the seasons, I long for the abode I seek. Yet in another land, I am uncounted for. Without a name, a number they call me. And with force, I answer.

I stood up and looked around, and the eyes in the office met mine. It was bone chilling, seeing all that looked but could not see look at me and reveal the secrets beyond their minds to me. It was an eerie feeling. Evil yet sweet like the sweetness of a mother’s love. All pure yet if used could be bring the burden of suffering and abuse.

Pursue me, pursue me. Watch me grow into a man and see my mistakes every step I take. I call for you and come forth, with your hands out wide, like a lost lover ready to let go off any grudge, any pain that might have planted as a wooden stake into your heart. Yes, I see you. That wicked, wicked smile.

The idea of my blackness only sunk in when I landed at Dallas International Airport. The summer torching humidity was the first to welcome me. It was unbelievable stepping out from the well air conditioned lobby into the bare intense heat. It felt like the melting heat was tugging at my skin, reminding, sucking away any trace of bodily fluid. This was different from the northern sun of Kaduna I was used to. This was the in your face type of sun in a way mirroring much of the attitude I was to receive later on.

Through the red lines, our subject pupils adjusted to the green emerald light that emancipate every breath of the room; illuminating the high taste that encompassed the whole building. Our subject still deluded: entranced, walks towards the now increasingly bright light stationed at th

Simple World: dream, dream on

Wonderful plays, it seems. Slowly the tides shifts gears, with the pedal revved, the acquired sense of direction attains a new set of waves. Like a pair of new shoes, the delusion of enchantment smells too sweet at first. Only when you see the decays of the sole then, and only then you can boldly say “thou feet are worn out.”

The louder it gets, the smoother the lullabies get. The high pitched voice from the folk-place is always under the buses. Must water fall from the sky? When the land bears bountiful fruit. In the need for cheeks and checks, the kiss smears longer till the bite on the neck becomes apparent.

A striking resemblance you see on the wide world screen. It gets madder by each channel or Chanel. It grows wilder by the sound of the speaker; less reality, more distortion. The fetish of the street-grain-rodeo brings the compendium of highlighted thirst to a new low.

The steps of the queen drags a little too long. The stare she receives adds a year or two to the tale of the Sheeba and a mere man. So strong, yet her kiss settles easily on mouth. The want breaks loose setting another yearn for lust. Such and such, the silk dissipates and all that was hidden bears front in the room of embrace. The pain hints at a later time, but the Queen continues to hold her spell. The mirror says all, she reigns supreme. At day, her face. In night her cries.

Another maybe. Pass away smiles; dreaming on till laughter from the face of the passer-by rings into mind. The workout to bring sane goes south and sends messages to the unknown up north.