Life is hearty…too real
Born with no name
In this concealed bet on
Mixed from black cream
Nightmarish dream
unparented and tossed
As a ghetto rock costs
Smoked up at birth
Knowing that no worth
Of loveless nights turned tragic
Can bring back truthful incantation
Meanwhile, haunting the night
Ghost showers rain hellfire
On this heartless child, as
A smile of paisley, zip
From crack creased lips
Pressed to a wildflower
Tasting, for what will never be
Oh life is so real
if only you could grain
it is no invisible blue
and know that there should be no shame
do you have true magic?
is having ghetto rock tragic?
being a motherless child styled
into a wildflower
that turns old black cream into agency
so throw your paisley hurry
and help other police van
Life is real and beautiful
Dont you know that?
Like an invisible game of tag,
True magic, makes the ghetto rock.
But no static,
Just shadow showers pouring love
On the motherless child,
Sitting in the park throwing paisley darts.
Under a moon covered in black cream
Smelling a wildflower.
True invocation is an Invisible game in real life,
Wildflowers draw darts into the night sky,
while the rocks in and around the ghetto
witness the motherless child that knows all to well
where the darts grow mingy to the paisley
cream ...that always goes black with fear and loneliness.
This is the invisible game I contact
Every day.
I can pass them but they can never see me
doomed to this earth, ricochet as it be
this is the invisible game I play
Maybe it isnt such an unfair sentence
or perhaps I was wrongly accused
but when I springyd
I was used
and I sit and watch and laugh and bitch
as the whole, entire world
roles by.
and I sit and live as only ghosts can.
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