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Monday, 19 February 2018

Who is Ebony Reigns

I am from the colourful side of the planet
But we are often all just so colour blind
On these visions

Short sightedness, seeing
Long sightedness, vision 20/20
None sighted this

Potholes on our road rolls,
Rules as the status quo, hills and valleys
Turns are sharp, eager to bite

Peddle to the metal
And it is a mexican stand
On face on collusion

My story, rest in peace
Now the dead are not left in peace
To be at peace

Vultures out in their numbers
Like uninvited guests with a sense
Of entitlement

What should I title this?
Chapters, open in books
Of condolence

What are you doing here?
To sign your attends to witness,
Confirm my death now, I am dead now

Glad now, be glad now
Your false prophet's prophecies
Just had a lucky break on the lottery

On my account
To bankrupt my time on earth
I am dead now, be glad now

I am dead now, gloat now
Many men wished death upon me
Enemies, frienemies all feeding of my name

Yea you know, even in my passing
They still  can't let me lie,
To rest my eye

I am dead now
Be glad now,
But not for long now

In another life
I will be back again
It is me again

I was just given a free pass
To heaven and back again
So feel free, bury my body

For God said
You can have anything to try me with
But for my soul, is protected, I am good

Still the Bad gyal from the nineties
No appologies
No appologies from this Bad gyal

Oh and I was with friends
I left with friends to the other side
Oh and I was with friends 

Saturday, 6 January 2018

Signatures in my dairy

Theft in society is sanctioned by governmental civil servant institutions.

Excuse the drug lord, he is only just a business man, into pharmaceuticals

Excuse the black market guy, he is only just into finance, sometimes he makes it rain

The first three pages of the most wanted list has been torn off, full of familiar names "white wash" conspiracy

Extortion is rampant and is done openly with no fear of repercussion in uniforms

Religion is the mockery of morality, the church is at it too, again!

What are the laws, who's laws to follow, who's laws to break

The  fire service women told the barber shop owner the CO2 expires after a year, they asked for 100Ghs to refill the cylinder that had not been used and still had the seal on.

What is a king to a god, what is a god to a non believer. Gradually we are all getting there, non believers in the system, the face of anarchy.

The face of anarchy, the best of us doesn't define us, it is the worst of us.

F what you heard,  there are no old men in this town of old, if grey is to count for something and honour is bankrupt not corrupt to look for a saving grace, eruptions

Confessions are like looking through a dirty mirror, you can't tell me nothing, any better, best until my good is better and my better best

I will spit  vernom to be used as an antidote  on their serpent  bites, devouring, be deviling my sanity on normality.

And I have got a list, a black list with signatures on, don't tempt me, I don't blackmail

Prisoners are for suckers, who had no pets when they were growing up, I take no prisoners

I am in that disgruntled mood, seeing red mist as a pill to be taken with my scotch.

Friday, 1 December 2017

Who made me a slave

Who made me a slave
In the 21st century
Who locked me in chains, caged

For Africa, as a slave
Trump over Hillary, seeking refuge
Everyday, anyday; oasis in dystopia

She is the reason
I am being sold as a slave
In Libya in the 21st century

For those that talk
Are not as dangerious
As those that act

Oh and Obama
Is no son of Africa
An imposter

He Killed Gadafi
For a place at the table
Of opulence, a con artist

Will not  judge him well
Time will be a pain to his name

He wasted the opportunity
A con artist, with a Noble prize
He killed so many, blood on his name

"When you try desperate
To be liked by all,
You disappoint those that matter"

Death is when legends are born
Expensive for cowards
A true test of value's resolve.

And religion has failed us all
A dirty mirror to clean
With no reflection on morality

A weight in gold of riches,
Stolen from the poor
In daylight of blind men

Plagued by the disease
Of self preservation of politics
Hallow, my material wealth so much

Assembled, butt sat next to corrupt men
On high tables deep in conversation
On common grounds shared

Why should I sugar coat my my pain
I am a slave in the 21st century
My leaders have failed me

I am back in the hands
Of my colonial masters
Who refused to let me into their land

Master, Master take me back
My land of riches
Made dry by corrupt men

Master wouldn't open doors
So at the gates of exit across seas
In my own land I am made a slave

We slaughtered all our heroes
And went back begging
To our old masters

I am a willing slave
In the 21st century
My leaders sold me cheap 

Saturday, 18 November 2017

The Debt Collector

I have stopped
Doing good for now
It is costing me too much

Like the sales seasons
Reduced to clear of summers
Wear no longer on the racks.

Debt collection
Has become too much
Of a hustle now

As agreed rejected now
Having to chase
Dear old regret

Just to put things back
In their rightful place
Back to order

Loosing on opportunity cost
Where whole meal is now
Reduced to piece meal

I am forced
To pick crumbs off
The table

Less than bite size to nible on
When it is my own cake
To have

I called a guy
Who owed me one
He did not pick

The next time we spoke
It was all awkward
Why awkward

When I am
Just taking back my own
Owed me

Why gain interest of stress
As value added
On loans given

Friday, 17 November 2017

Legends of the outpost

Case in point, Frank Matthews
Like a page in a chapter
Opened in a book

Verses, what I have read in pages
Are pages to my left, flipping
Reading like a testimony of events

Functionality of  blurred lines
With reality, stranger than fiction
And you can't write  like nature

Even Shakespeare wouldn't try
And if there are masters
To be mentioned he stands

Suspense volcanic tendencies
That keeps one at the edge of seats
Closer each time to the tip

Hearts palpitations
Of  mounting notions
A slight change in the atmosphere

Third eye, sixth sense, web energy
On vibrations, the winds have picked up
Fair warning is like insider trading

To be given an unfair advantage
To fold up on poker tables with poker face
Cash in your chips and walk away

The house always wins in the end
But only against the greed that got stack
That stayed for far too long in the end

There are legends in this game
They are the ones that lived
To tell their stories that excite

Old school, that say we owned
This town and painted it Red
In our days, red in our days

And left some raining day money
We living on fruits of planted seeds
Raining day money, raining day money

And like Shawshank redemption
We walked away, clean exist
Into the sunset as legends of the outpost

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