No.175: Day of the King


bureaucracies do the least,
I've known in my gut since I was still a seed 
that this culture is backwards.
by this I mean the,
by this I mean we,
by is I mean has been & will always be
till the King returns,
& on that day, we playing for keeps,
on that day, He'll heal the land,
& clean with His right hand
everything we've made left.

the culture is just the biggest branch
of the darkest heart,
always seems like the biggest heads be the peons in charge,
they telling me to pay my dues,
pay my offerings to false gods,
I'd rather not,
you've misjudged,
I'm the mole in the mob,
the sniper shot that clogged the wrong artery at the right time,
the shark fin that rocked the boat,

my life is a joke--
I sit next to the supposedly woke and
watch them prostitute the name of peace,
say the most, do the least,
including me,
we say equality, but what we tend to mean is
sameness, or worse, a rebalancing season, 
we don't want to bring the empire to its knees,
we want the keys--

my bullshit senses are tingling, 
I see the contradictions with ease,
maybe cause I'm redeemed now, a sheep amongst wolves, 
but a wolf amongst sheep 
who drink till they think they're free
& overthink before they speak,
& truth be told I'm getting hungry,
I'm craving a better world 
where the truth doesn't scare--

we the people 
with broken nations
& forgotten names,
forgotten purpose,
saved by fame, by fortune, by sex, by power, by fear
like cowards,
is anything real,
is anything fair,
is anything holy,
is anything what it should be,
is anything love, 
is anything a gift
without mischief and strings,

I tell myself to breathe.
I tell myself to eat.

this will all end in redemption. 
on the Day of the King.

--No.175: Day of the King