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Show Tyme

In this new minstrel show

clansmen have torn up their sheets

to make handkerchiefs

Liberal onlookers rubberneck

as the Old Boys huff, strut and sweat

delivering sermons of train wreck politics

Snake oil salesmen

on podiums with microphones

haven't said one word yet

about the war

on the Homegrown who are being

hung, beaten and gunned down

in the streets of the Wild, Wild West

by Jackboot paratroops and Blue shirts

Cold Sweat

Oh! How the Trick has built

thick brick walls around your perception

It has painted the ceiling of your prison

cell blue and calls that heaven

Told you your mortal enemies

are your brethren. It continues

to feast on the meat of your trust

teeth thrust deep into your neck

while you sweat from the effort required

to ignore the pain and defend the deception

Life’s Laboratory

What gives no results

is placed in your path

as a learning experience

not as a prison

with faith as the warden

Keep seeking

what gives proof

what was put here

to help you to win

not to ensure you lose!

Image:Google capture, Photographer unknown

Millie Melodies

Self hate rhetoric

public shout outs

make skeletons rattle

in their coffin beds

Weaknesses covered

by cash and fashion

strange items worn

on and about the head

Buzzwords complaints

sung as anthems

Lost causes seeking

an audience to applaud

***

Image: Google capture. Graphic artist unknown.

Parallel Parables

The Witness

has been identified

by the plasma disks

dancing inside his eyes

In this place I thought I

recognized, a dreamscape

mimicking Earth’s terrain

A different dimension

where Men wander

become lost, emptied

or go insane

Round & Round

Who can steal a dream

cause a watch to unwind?

Only the Thief of Time

***

Recapitulation

Put my mistakes

written on slips of paper

wrapped around thin sticks

dipped into stickiness

planted flags in holes

of a brass implement

Experiences that evoked

wet eyes, or provoked fits of rage.

After thorough evaluation

when I feel numb

each episode is burned

and the room smells of sage.

Flipped

Up South // where my doppelganger walks // July is Winter // and Canopus a bejeweled Queen // sitting on Her throne // high on the Horizon // a glittering diamond

Feng Shui Exorcism

When u move n yr rhythm darkness or light will fold around yr temple loving arms strong & warm All harm and ghosts gone

NOCTURN

A presence eclipsed

slipping behind a dark disk

the familiar becomes memory

a shadow

a dimly lit dream

a tentacle of insanity

retracted upon awakening

Image: Moon flower (Botanical name: Ipomoea) These bloom in moonlight. The flowers quickly open at night and last the entire night. They close when the sunlight touches their petals.

Memento Mori

No icons, no idols, no Bible That which is Soulless cannot conquer Death or help you find your Ka once the cord is cut When your awareness is made a homeless wanderer Therefore seek the acquaintance of the Black Flame to listen and learn the chants of Binding the methods of soul survival While sand still runs in the glass before you are powerless to act when reminded

Cultus Exodus

The cult of celebrity offers no salvation

It is idol worship that serves to keep

The masses outward focused

held fast in their stations, fixed by their adoration

***

The cult of race offers no salvation

It is a demonic ploy, a stake in the hearts of Nations

Keeping people in conflict imprisoned by prejudice

The brick and cement of the barricade of voluntary isolation

***

The cults of religion offer no salvation

to their congregations. They are havens

where tables are set for ghost priests to eat

who listen to prayers as after dinner entertainment

***

The cults of the Dead offer no salvation

they are rituals for trapped shadows

for memories without heads, seeking

bodies to complete unfinished agendas

***

Black From the Future

We come "from" the Future, entering into the Present to form a complete Self. The past consists of temporary shelters abandoned by former travelers. Antiquities that ghosts cling to, seeking support in the ever spinning energy carousel of Now awareness.

A Serpent Song

I have been called wayward for seeking the Path that is found in the round I have been called willful for being driven by an energy à rebours, not to be ignored I have been called witch when I refuse to keep silent Wayward, willful, witch I take these words as compliments, sobriquets for neon women in the dark

Hoodoo Women

Hoodoo women be black and blue, bruised

from trying to slip out of other people’s cultures

Their doubles bumping heads

like particles in the Hadron Collider

Divided by the systems hunger for more power to punch

holes in energy bodies before inserting straws to suck

what is inside out!

Meantime the beat gets kicked up two whole notches

By just being around what Hoodoo Women got

No offense, but as the Ancestors are my witness

Since Hoodoo has become big business

It no longer works, unless accompanied by a mega dose

Of common sense also known as Mother Wit

For anyone including blood line descendants.

To be a Hoodoo woman means to be born woke up!

True Hoodoo women can shut down power grids

Pull satellites down from the sky, make the oceans dry

flood deserts, rearrange trains and cast airplanes into oblivion

Mother Nature is their Big Sister

And she remembers their mistreatment and bereavement

She keeps the Hoodoo women’s secrets in her big pot simmering

They are kin, same lineage Mama Earth and the Hoodoo Women

... listen to the wind for further instructions

Image: “Medusa”. Artist unknown. Google Capture

Black Flames

Reality at an obscene angle

is the devil’s gambit

Rûna silently observes

a thimble full of false Gods

running unshod on asphalt

poured over Earth’s leveled

sacred mounds

Who can these Halflings save?

Not even themselves, trembling

before the Grave Grim, afraid

to enter the dark subterranean

labyrinths, without fire sticks

lights and cameras

NaPoWriMo Day 30

Provenance

We did not come across the Atlantic

in ships, we leaped over galaxies

We were sent. We are not minstrels

coons, toms, bucks or gals for hire

We are not the soulful soundtrack

in a movie with no black actors

We are not preachers, imans

or politicians. We are not liars

We are the Razor Remnant

We are Hoodoo Adepts

We float in Timestreams

We enter people’s dreams

Witnesses of the Apocalypse

We represent the Bornless

It really is quite simple

The entire multiverse is our Temple

We are Hoodoo adepts

We are the Razor Remnant

***

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