Past Lives

Orange sky smeared w/
Peach colored clouds
Silhouettes of pine trees
Beneath them
Littered amongst the bush and shrub
2 brothers
One man
One feline
Not versus rather
In-flow with a
Wild around them


Free the Truth

If your style is made of truth
You should share it
Truth yearns to be free

W!ld unlike its brother lie
Who exists confined behind orchestrated fables
Freeing truth causes its brother to send disciples
Whose job is to catch n contain
You know em when you see em
They communicate in silence using violence
To enforce the will of lie
But truth is so w!ld
The beautiful bitch that refuses to die
Infecting every host with the holy of its ghost
Cursing them too with a yearning to be free
That’s why when in doubt i follow me
And if you are like me
You follow you cuz u know the truth
You just ain’t w!ld enough to admit it

Voluntary Victims

What kind of place is this /That we live / Where lambs walk obediently into the lions den /The blue lights stir fear is us /The gold badge commands obedience from us /The gun in the holster causes death for too many of us /I dream of days when lambs grow into ox-n’ buck back /Till then the w1ld ones covertly stalk the streets /Waiting for the chance to shed their wholly,itchy, camouflaged, skin /Becoming filthy animals once again