Most times we picture amnesia being an impediment of memory due to some sort of trauma (and it is); but can you truly imagine, for one moment, waking up with a clean slate; no worries of what you did yesterday, no phantom pains of that part of yourself you dismembered, what sins you committed the week before, the lies you buried yourself in a lifetime ago…
tabula rasa [ˈtæbjʊlə ˈrɑːsə]
npltabulae rasae [ˈtæbjʊliː ˈrɑːsiː]
1. (Philosophy) (esp in the philosophy of Locke) the mind in its uninformed original state
2. an opportunity for a fresh start; clean slate
[Latin: a scraped tablet (one from which the writing has been erased)]
People write about what they know and understand/feel. I would like to think that i do, after all…the writing is just a different method of expression/an expansion of the very same passion that comes from the same place. I hope that adequately answers your question.
We sadomasochistic like using our rapist as our therapist so socially we never amount to shit till we’re touched by the physchedellic, transcendent of our circumstances we end up in strange places. Strange wishes to the unseen, whispers to darkness on our knees contemplating our Gods’ beliefs like;
is this what i wish to believe
even when others believe in me
“Am i the only God they see?” or are they polygamists polytheistic to every human being?
Idols, gods, golden calves, holy grails, idol gods, idle gods and ideal gods, god is he, god is she, Buddha under a tree focusing his chi, god is he, god is she, Newton and gravity.
E=MC2 Einstein we create Frankenstein’s monsters of each other and it’s only natural that our God become the very thing we hate because it’s what we shaped, hatred. Merciless and unforgiving omnipotence embodied in bodies that walk around we, so i pity our history for a recurring factor; no one recognizes our destiny and so the majority floats aimlessly through a space time continuum interlocked with doom and these parallel lives we lead, distorted personalities, twisted into a yarn ball that will unravel as a feline’s play thing until the end where time will end, time will be of no meaning and God will outlive eternity and the gods we created shall die at our feet.
Niggas got plantation memories, plantation mentalities and it’s very clear the way we still call each other nigga, instead of brother and refer to our sisters as bitches, slithering through a corporate world of snitches, rich get richer profiting off our prophets, poor get poorer pimping chalices of silver and gold teeth blinging to cover up the trash that exits overexposed souls. I know it sounds cold but truth should always be bold
souls for sale souls for sale
they shouldn’t be cheap but yet they’re for sale
The problem is…
We suppress ourselves so much we hardly recognize our own reflections and little black girls don’t recognize their own beauty because they’re too busy bleaching trying to be something when they were told that they were nothing. So they grow older and begin prostituting their bodies, still trying to be somebody, while men souled out, prostitute their very soul for a mouth full of gold, boxed into stereotypes so we fail to think outside the box of gold and silver composed grills symmetrical to prison cells and blame it all on the box called television or more specifically B.E.T rather than bad parenting. But really, we were behaving this way before we even had TV, way before New World slavery because it was the black man that sold the black man to the white man. Newsflash in case you haven’t heard, slavery of any kind is called the same slavery even when it’s the enslavement of our own kind and even worse our own mind. We fail to realize that we continue enslaving our own kind, mankind
Spit it like i’m from this crysilis this is real s**t metamorphosis ugly caterpillars and beautiful butterflies Moths drawn to forest fires flies gathering around rigamortis bodies like boy scouts around a camp fire or lovers viewing the sunrise and sunsets painted across God’s skies and i know i know now that God must have a sense of humor taking beautiful caterpillars and making ugly butterflies that flutter their pretty ugly fragile wings visiting beautiful flowers and i stutter i st-st-stutter cause the shutter of its ugly wings prove that ugly is not as we see but its beauty is calibrated by the eyes of an unseen God that provides for all under a burning sun that will one day die but does it really matter when we roll the die against street corner curbs surrounded by a concrete jungle and glass eyes of windows to souls grinding for better tomorrows burrowing like teste flies through fresh flesh its survival of the fittest its nature at its best and never-ending quests for answers to questions like why do we die and suffer to our eyes what seems like we live pointless lives
“i can be an open book if picked up and read, pillow talk for your head, practice for your lips, cause between your hips and mine no space (exists) this should be a requirement to: bookmark the creases between these sheets and re read them every time you feel the need, re write our story if necessary, with your tongue; mandatory, if you feel our story should be told…”
loyalty or commitment of a subordinate to a superior or of an individual to a group or cause : those wishing to receive citizenship must swear allegiance to the republic | a complex pattern of cross-party allegiances.
a : the obligation of a feudal vassal to his liege lord
b (1) : the fidelity owed by a subject or citizen to a sovereign or government (2) : the obligation of an alien to the government under which the alien resides
2: devotion or loyalty to a person, group, or cause
Political groups seek not only to represent a people from a formal viewpoint but also funded by a number of those people and their agendas represented by those individuals. As an individual to “choose” or ally myself with a political group would be against my personal beliefs as these groups will not fully represent my ideals/beliefs and therefore do not represent me as an individual. Therefore I would ally myself with none but as it relates to a specific agenda/policy that supports the best interest of the people (including myself) and within sound reason; I would support but not have any “allegiance” to any.
“speaking of pieces of a man
Staring at a future in the creases of my hand
It reads like a final letter I’m leaving for my fam but
It’s written in language they will never understand
A late repentant
Never deviating from a plan
I drive by headed for the valley of the damned
The Wheels spin, I’m looking for a sacrificial lamb
Then roll tactics like a soldier out in the Sudan”— “Stomp” (Black Thought of The Roots)