Growing up in the 'Hood

Thoughts, Ideas, Aphorisms & Dreams from the Ghettos of my mind

Thursday, April 08, 2021

 

And this is it this is the way it goes down and its money and money and money

If I buy this can I still pay for that and if I buy that will this get paid and its pressure and

It keeps building never lets up never takes its boot off of your broken back your broken bank and it

Grinds away day to day we toil and traverse and worry about inanities and our insecurities can only be

Secreted away for so long and it isn’t the end until it’s the end and we are all here witnessing these

Apocalyptic platitudes as the president dies cuz the presidency is dead and it’s all there in the book

this long-lost scripture and we read it for guidance for signs for some vain attempt at alleviation

From all this madness we lift our heads and look to the sky for a sign and we prey and pray to either the

Above or to the below we pray and it seems like heaven is now upended and staring back down at us

In suspended belief swathed over us like a cracked glass ceiling…..and its Satan its Satan and all his

Legions and we pray to the devil we worship carnality division and excessive materiality that is our god

Made flesh and we pray and we cover our bodies with strange sigils with symbols and sacred texts from

Above and Below and we prey on our neighbors we erect walls and we shut out our fellow citizen from

The few remaining vestiges of a civilization on the verge of total collapse

 

And Crowley was right he was right do what thou will and whatnot and we advertise our lives our lies

And the kings rule via status updates to unsocial media platforms all of us with unlimited information

Yet so ill-informed its info and info and info injecting your mobile and yet ignorance rains it reigns

Because we are locked in our own constructed echo chambers and we hear nothing but our own

Voice replayed and relayed across the stratosphere and the rockets stand readied and waiting to

deliver their payload and payday is always three days away and the kid needs a coat and the fridge is

on the fritz your bus is late and your boss is waiting and we run and run and run and we never catch

up to the carrot and it’s the news it’s the news it’s the news broadcast in perpetuity attack and

attack and death and destruction and it’s even worse than we thought the timeline has been updated

and the killer struck earlier than initially reported and the death count is higher than formerly described

and death is the only true sovereign in constant command and in constant demand to give the masses

their entertainment

 

 

 

funny to think of Bruce Lee now as I sit amongst piling up reports, spreadsheets and electronic mail

for he was a dragon, level above human

I sit here with sounds filling my ears and reach as far back in my mind as I can

 

I love the devil

Deep down I admire his defiance

He visits me nightly

All anger and sanctification

Whispering to me

Who should I get next?

But it is a trick and it always fools me

And for it he punishes me

But never the same way twice

I am never covetous

I ask only for what I need

But that means I am tasked

With having to bear his weight

I feel it pressing against me

When I’m washing the dinner dishes

When I’m watering the lawn

It never leaves me

Always there, that presence

All anger and sanctification

                                -rg

 

I sit at my workstation covered in bric-a-brac

Contemplating Melchizedek amongst the ornaments and tchotchkes

The sacred geometry is our universe found in a number

A formula sitting on an excel spreadsheet I should be working on

But instead I sit and attempt to wrap my mind through it all

What more for humans than this call a secret frequency some can hear

How do we dial it in on our cerebral antennae

The human heart transmitting a 7-foot wave of electromagnetism

The heart inside us yet as distant as the sun

Each of us are our own sun in some way

A tiny forever breathing and beating in each single soul

The whole key to the universe in the shell of a mollusk

In the eye of the tornado, in the dirty dishwater whirlpooling

In your kitchen sink

 

-love poem

 

When boiling an egg for the woman you love

You must be diligent

Removing tiny little pieces of shell

Under running water

White strands of albumen holding together

Like a smashed windshield

 

Carefully plotting your course

Deliberately removing

Each piece so as not to compromise

The final product

 

As you cautiously select

Each splinter of shell

The beautiful capsule begins to emerge

Its smooth polished finish

Gleaming under clear running water

 

The final shard gives way

You hold the embryo in your palm

Wiping its skin

In a towel of paper

 

Pleased you nestle the cargo

Into her lunch box

And triumphantly

Zip it shut