It’s Okay

I wish you could realize I haven’t seen god
I saw a peace sign
on the sweet scar chest of the man I trusted to play my music
It was easier to digest than deity
But harder to understand than oblivion
But every tomorrow holds the inevitable empty depth of the nothing we are afraid to represent
There’s a persistence in my blood and the vampires couldn’t help but taste it
But in the end breath and body passes
Life passes
And it’s okay


Good Boy

Crisp lip poison,
can’t afford the ointment
2 dollars for anoinoment
just to understand it’s pointless,
no gayity for the deity
he doesn’t like expression
So purge all your records in the name of confession
Good boy


I Still Ignite My dreams

Squash face disciple of the blood teeth rock and roll bible
Dance your anger piety in my circle until we purge this overbearing hate
I didn’t fucking vouch for it
And it hurts
But broken nose prophets with our red dried t-shirts know the game
It’s all shit and poison pretense
So let’s take a dose of this defective, beautiful flame quench personality of move along with it
and burn the next four years into a fire big enough to light the wick of love and art
Ivory string poised to explode
in definitions of this millennium to come


Come to the Rap Concert 

Hold a candle light vigil to who you were before the tranformation
I forgot when I go out of pocket blow the rocket burn elation
And did I tell you what I saw when I caught a glimpse of god
Nappy hair low lights raw people bone rock
It’s jazz it’s fast it’s formulating fleeting
It’s lost it’s found it’s searching finding its believing
Instruments in my rises and valleys
Find my way on the board while minutes form on chalk talleys
Let’s flame the money and go broke together
Denim jacket white tee can’t afford the the leather
But youre here…


He Wants To Hang The Artists

This to hold trial for a man who claims to represent our poetic spirit
This to stand in loud and unrelenting witness for the sins of the man we once revered as Cat
And I to bear witness to the fact that the man we know as Yusuf has broken my heart

Hate, hate, hate
In the name of your supposed day-drift deity
Claiming murder or something like it for the authors of modern exhalation
I’m finished with the pious, the respectful, the reverent, masked, do or die prophets
Fuck your fear mongering, fuck your false prophet promise and fuck your intention to tear away the strings of my connection, my deep seeded full breath of society FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU
I am whole
FUCK YOU I am the ephemeral well-guided friend of the lonesome many
I am the angel incarnate of the scared and sacred
I am
Your demon dream nightmare
I am the dark concept of your burned out American Dream
I am your jubilant smile pushing up your daisy,
Hate will not, and cannot rule
and your twisted, warped
notion of God…


Modern Man and Mind Control

To hold mythos over man
Death for dogma
And ignorance of the age old impotence of a supposed savior
Never rising
Despite the frantic coaxing of the death-scared delusionaries
Whispers, whispers to the floor,
ceiling, the sky
the all seeing, ever-present, passive heavens

Stop wasting away your days
substituting millennia-muffled ideas for real freedom
Allow your tomorrow to be vindicated
Embracing love
Truth, purpose in the piety of people
For hate, bullets and the misguided sanctity of ideas
Hold no power over your existence



Love from a Heathen 

I never spoke to your god,

Prayed, believed
Still don’t really
But I can feel a sense of something
Beyond myself
Not a spiritual being
More an energy,
A force
It’s the bubbling over of sound and feeling that penetrates a room of strangers
It subsists in the artistry of life,
The commonality of all of us
Beautiful projectiles
Launched into orbit around each other
It’s wild and random
and magnificently important
And I probably will never believe in your god
But this Sunday,
I choose to believe in you