Anger Concealed

When identity, become a jail cell

Dwelling, among the compelled

Living, under this spell

Like nobody will fail

Buying, everything they sell

The only way you excel

Is you get to pick, what’s under the shell

Farewell prick, your end, was a foretell

Leave nothing, except the smell

To the Earth, you fell

In your coffin, I put the last nail
Your life was just, a great betrayal

You, capitalists, will never prevail

This wicked tale, comes to an end, like all tales

Snake eats tail, either we fail or we travail

No avail, to be poor is to live on the third rail

Suffering is hidden, under the veil

Suffering is weak, keep it out of text and emails

I could, regale, with stories how they assail

How they steal, how our youth, they keel

Genocide on the poor, how do we deal

Welfare drying up, no food for a meal

Leaving us, no choice, other to rob and to steal

Born on my knees, and still learning how to kneel

My anger is concealed, my cases are appealed

My end already revealed, I’ll die poor like my peoples

No Heroes, Just Victims

Imperialism is economic cannibalism

Class war, demagogic-ally driven

I’m no denizen, of this evil kingdom

Stigmatize crimson, and steal freedom

Radical left indecision, utterly scattered in schism

Inverted socialism with their capitalist prism

All symptom of a system

Driven by materialism

Even the atheists wait for dictum

No more heroes, everyone plays the victim

Making up shadow foes, you lack the wisdom

Practice praxis, and take your war of situation

Fight against the suction, of hedonistic seduction

On the road to freedom, you’re a fucking obstruction

Overthrowing lords and fiefdoms, its deconstruction

It don’t take Columbo deduction, to see this corruption

Downwards we tumble, poor people pummeled

Get ready for the rumble, smash, make this culture rubble

Our efforts gotta double, fast, while we fight the good struggle

Alas, right next to capitalism, you snuggle

Our mother earth is troubled, in the day you talk the walk

About social change, and how to stop the cops and such
While you lay, you dream of the wealth, fame, and stuff

Sawed Off Mentality

The system falsely claims

Life is a giant game, and

The rule is, no pain, no gain

Stained, with too much blood,

Too much death, too much anti-love

We’re deranged, with frozen hearts

Strain, a little, to get ahead,

Try to feign, try to fake the part

Stacking meaningless figures,

Just aimless goals, aimless souls

Time to take back,

All the shit, they stole

Fingers scraping, down the money hole

The credit, oil, and ore,

Rules the fucking world

The puppet masters,

order us, “to do what yer told”

The poor peoples lay,

shivering, and cold

It’s same shit, different day

Another black man died today,

They killed him right in the open

Murdered by the state, locked up with hate

The whole fucking pen is broken

Where are your tears,

Where is your anger?

All you got is fear,

And a sense of danger

Claim you hate to see people suffer

But steady avoid the news,

and use bullshit as a buffer

Life doesn’t get better, it gets tougher

The youth are dyin,

Everybody poor,

Is on the grind,

Stuck on this ladder with no rungs,

Nowhere to climb,

No fucking breath in our lungs

Plastic smiles,

telling me everything is fine

Surviving off tiny crumbs,

survived all the crimes that we’ve done

In this quicksand, we claw and we twitch,

find a niche that ain’t there

Pay a fare for blank stares

I gotta, sawed off mentality

our souls, cast off in perpetuity

Feels like the end, but it might be the beginning
We may hate our lives, but we still love living

Maintain the Subversion

Return from war, managed, with no blood, on my hands

Ten years of battle, in forbidden lands, according to plan

No vitriol or desire, refusing to cower, no more trance

Never stole the fire, because the ivory tower has none

Left breadcrumbs, never lost sight, of where I am from

Find love, when you finally stopped searching

Gathering my strength, maintain the subversion

My shirt is stained red and my hand is open

I can breathe a little, but I’m still choking

Capitalist zombies, walking dead, we’re still broken

Dark comedy, no one is what they want to be

What is wrong with me, callous fallacies?

I never ever, supported the government

Don’t believe in gods, or anything heaven sent

Disgusted by Hollywood, and the fake world they make

This reality is lewd, profits, the only thing we can create

Don’t listen to the radio, or drink Pinot on cedar patios

Feet in the barrio, desensitized, but yet I still feel
Don’t own a television, not participating is my real

HerCube

I cook rice
I love her unconditionally
I feed the cats
I try to heal our hearts
I cry sometimes

Immobile Commiseration

Immobile Commiseration

The wax bubbles

Washing away

My troubles

Making me forget,

This fucking hovel

No one is more

Deserving of shit

It’s not a lesson to be poor,

And to serve the rich

No reincarnation

No past life connotations

One life, one world, no nations

Only one stop at the station

Live that precious

Life with passion

And always be brazen

My life curling

In oily clouds,

Embittering

My immobile

Hallucinations

Everywhere

Feeling sabotaged

Revolution folding

Into commiseration

The subdued are due

Revolution

Isn’t a substitute

Or a rebuke

To a economic dispute

Fickle, with no fortitude

The new world eludes

All but the multitudes

Crippled now
By, spooks and fools

Concrete Viruses

To the urbanites

The few leaves

Only shade

The concrete

And the breeze,

Carries rotten garbage

Madness slithers

Over my itching skin

Nihilism and viruses

Looking for a way in

For an orifice to infect

Wasting time, neglect

Time, oh this

Precious time

Trickling between

My careful fingers

Dazzled by these

Illusionary

Possibilities
Painted so uniformly

City Weeps

I tend to be, much more lost than found

The voices on the street are selfish songs

In addition, they sound all the same to me

Maintain, try to stay sane and on course

Weary, of the concrete, metal all around

I miss the flowers and the redwood trees

The death of NYC was a sad sight to see

I lived here when she bled out on the streets

Weeping in the city that never sleeps

Over, is the era of Brooklyn, now it's all about Queens