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New age poetry that is sure to inspire Love, Laughter and Tears!
My one and only wonderful Mother!
A tribute to my Mother
For B. Rebecca
(Big up Aunt Icy, another mother)
At this point Mom’s retired, but she acts as if she’s just been wired.
So much energy! I have lots of admiration. She is intent on
Improving the nation. If I thought more like her, I realize, less people
Would really ostracize. Mom is so wise plus she can detect lies, she
Also facilitated I&I’s rise.
She knows my food, she knows my size
She coached me right up to where I copped the prize. And I
Agree with her, she should stay involved, cause she is the star around
Which I revolve. I really don’t want to know what would happen
Without her. I am not ready now, maybe along in time further
She holds her children together with words of love
Crystal and I would still be fighting without her calling as a
Dove, “Peace, my children. GOD is above.” And if she’s at the
Bus stop, my Mom won’t shove.
She is the perfect lady – humble and calm
She is Mother Earth – dark and warm.
Knowledge and Wisdom are always in her company, but she
Doesn’t take herself too seriously, she can be very funny.
We share laughs whenever we can
I understand much more, since I became a man.
My love for her grows every day, she has been perfect in every way
As a child if I was wrong my ass would burn,
But I love her for that too, because I learned.
Thank you Mom for being there, I will return the favors
Forever to care.
By Cammy (Cammy is an alter ego of mine, she represents interpersonal intelligence
Yes now! ... (Intro)
Re raised I
Here in the west, we name him Ra.
It was a furnace in pain, my home
It was everlasting rain.
For years we toiled in the fields
Of imagination and optimism.
For at the bottom, there
Wasn’t nowhere to go but up.
And the years were there to prepare,
For the ultimate domination
We examined schisms
For freaky fun.
And wet, we were done
By the slow setting of the sun.
We channeled fire and earth
At enemies real and otherwise.
For nothing did not leave him in demise,
Cause He was the Man;
And He carried the plan.
My main pen name is jAbo. Most of my poems are signed with this name.
This is Amalha Cornelius Yaad. He is the ego of Intrapersonal Knowledge. I like to imagine that he is from Senegal, West Africa. Details available in Perfection
I do believe, I give to receive; I say thanks and please to put you at ease, to stop shoot the breeze, to thaw talk that freeze. I understand. I know I Can, and with my hand improve the plan, to elevate Man from dog action and slut station to Divine Nation. Check Creation, this is the purpose to all of us. Who do you trust? With whom do you fuss? For what do you lust? How are you conscious? From flesh to dust you rush; you groom your hair with confusion brush. No time to spare, your rights you flush, in life: discomfort. In death, you’re plush. Is this madness? Is this insanity? The futile pursuit of vanity is destroying life in the name of humanity. WHERE YOU COME FROM WITH IT? RUN AWAY WITH IT! DO AWAY WITH IT! TURN YOUR BACK ON IT AN’ NEVER ROCK ON IT… NEVER! I take what you got to give cause I man got to live. The words that I write burn your brain all the time, even while you are dying from crime.
Check the levels. The time gets hot, so I cool the spot, make it rain a lot. Make the bush them grow, build live afro from Aurelia and Croton. My knowledge is a fountain that breaks bridges and weathers mountains, that pay bills in the hills above Goat Pen from now till you say when. My truth unfurls like "World" and "Jah Steele" I talk what’s real. Put it down so you feel it, who will fuck with this rough lit that build hits with spits writ to make your head split! Lungs fit when I kick balls and Dicks from Rocky to the Bricks. Get live or get fist, remember this… joking the fish is like taking a piss – hit or miss, pain or bliss, craw or kiss. So, whatever you want to take is what I got to give, ‘cause I- man got to live. And doubt not that this is the awaited sign; do check that you’re dying from crime.
So for every skeptic, I make life hectic, set sweetness septic, do noveau eclectic, come through and wreck it, from sky to ocean floor. Chiquitas adore my physical whore, my spiritual bore; they scream, I roar while I rip through flesh in my quest for the real true. Fire like hell on your walls! Scream for all to hear that become is near...take that! I slap the trap of the Black Lizard Lap. You cock the bum up for awhile I will pile drive live for miles DoggyStyle. Let me pluck the stuck chuck, the hams up, legs on shoulder , heavy as a boulder in the womb – there I buck the sweet roast duck, fix you up from tip to tuck, run out your luck! So you beg God to take your life or make you wife, to show you peace or teach you strife. While in the street corruption is rampant and violence rife. Death of the temple is death of the Mind, while you are dying from crime.
How is your confusion and war with your wife, part of your plan for eternal life? If you walk like 2Pac expect to get shot. That is part of the plot, now what have you got? Instead of millions laughing, you are dead in a pretty coffin. Mama crying, kids denying that Daddy was an mask who lived and died fast, crippled by the past? Not me, I will be free like sex with Nicky. I’ll visit judgment on nations and continents, make flesh from friends, enough Queen on my ends, enough green to spend, enough weed to blend! Do you see it? But you have to live to do it; you have to stiff to screw it; you have to big to be it; you have to strong to free it! All these things take time, so if you’re dying from crime, how will you gain knowledge to stow baggage and raise cabbage to leave college? Stop the bull! Learn to pull and grow green, transform the scene, make it something new, where the rule is you, where GOD is true. There is much to do from the Yard to Peru and the chosen are few, they make the brew and cook the stew – REVOLUTION! The true communion of flesh and Mind, of space and time…even while you are dying from crime.
Shootouts on the block at ten o’clock, bullets spray, the dead lay prone, the living groan, mothers moan their pain, suffering because it is in vain, the efforts to live, the of give, all for nothing like Dhering and Bunting. The fathers are lost and what is the cost for those who check? The girls have NoRespect for men, the boys have NoFriends. The children see NoAdults but have nuff payrents. The Island have NoWarriors but have nuff defense, the workers have NOMoney but have nuff expense. Young women: single moms, young men: life sentence. The people have NoPrivacy and have nuff wire fence, thier world have NoPeace and have nuff violence. For the things you claim to love, you have NoTime… and you are verily dying from crime.
AmAlhAyAAd. aka Amalha Cornelius Yaad. (Spirit responsible for Intrapersonal Skills)
(For the ancestors – those beyond the veil)
Let me proceed to expound and read – the Law
You must breathe. You should breed but then,
You will pay rent. For years will come no dent in the
Sum that you owe. For those in the know, life moves
Slow. But for those not so, life’s a series of blows
And it moves fast; try not to be trapped in the past
Instead have a blast! So that when it ends at last, you
Can give up the ghost in peace, like a light summer
Breeze, you’ll get to sleep away with ease.
Don’t never be afraid to cry, ‘cause when you die
There are no tears no more, ‘cause when you sleep
In the floor, you can’t even hear the wind sigh or the rain weep
It’s that deep sweets, so remember to party as much
As you can, but keep calm, there are no giggles in the balm
Yard, yes man, walk on your toes going through 5th Ward
That’s the home of the coffin, and it’s not hard for us to see
And change your destiny; we make you wish you had fled
We make your life run red, show you the ending that you dread
Here it is in 3D, HDTV, a good response to the life you led.
Death is the end for some, for others it’s just the start like
Wal-Mart. There is more to see that cannot be while trapped in
A body. So for some, death is freedom. So they smoke the leaves
And drink the rum, drive real fast and burn the gum. Who wants
To ask what they’re running from? For some, death is the conclusion
They don’t see no illusion and for them the flow ain’t no effusion, they are
Locked in delusion. What can be done? Them don’t have no fun in this
Thing called life. There ain’t no taste to it, there simply ain’t no spice
They wish for another thing, maybe a place to grow wings, maybe a time built
Where bells ringing don’t mean guilt. Maybe a space where preacher spun
Filth is in disgrace. Maybe a where that it is good to be the human race.
Well, whatever the desire, them say it "nuh deh ya".So them put the
World on a slow fire and try to go higher. Ask me to blame them…
If I condemn,
Name me a liar.
My sisters. (Left to right) Crystal, Jewel and Treasure.
Seven times seventy,
Exhausted twice times over.
There have been times,
I honestly thought,
That the we in us, would
Laughter greened the
Expanse of our lifetimes!
Has made the earth far more
Here we stand,
Stronger than ever.
Whether we are
Aleya K. Jobson
I am the I
Look at me closely, from my toes on the ground to my head in the sky, I am the I. One of the few real things and I fly. Feel the joy Love brings into the halls and hearths of kings. The dogs bark, the bird sings, evil is come to naught while goodness wins,
To make Heaven I never stop try:
The children think I’m funky, the adults don’t know; it’s all about having many persons and handling business like a pro.The golden Sun blesses al that I do. The platinum moon makes all I wish for come true. There is evidence overwhelming that God had naught to do with this thing,
So some need ginseng to make bells ring in the bedroom, the Sun is still the Groom and Bride is still the Church, but in ignorance they all perch. They are drunk on sin, in pride they lurch from point to point, seeking a place to put their joint.
I watch and I laugh cause that’s al there is to do. Sometimes I cough if there is no crew to hold the meditation. But I pray for the nation on every occasion. From the thief on the roof, to the murderer in the Police Station. Every man needs the bless to flow through the chest. To flay the flesh and bring the rest. So I don’t ignore no one! No matter where them come from.From Round Hill to Ewarton, the massive is welcome; from Oakdale to North Hampton, we chase the rum. Sometimes we cry because God is still in the sky, sometimes we have money but there is no food to buy. Sometimes we have food that is eaten by flies.
There is not no balance In the dance, so the beauty is undercut, it still feels like Stony Gut, 1865; struggling to stay alive, There is very little Love to be derived from those with whom we strive. It all seems so vain, with pain running the main and people still refusing to use their brains.
Where is the end for those who pine for Equality and Justice in this lifetime? There is not no quality of life coming down the line. Sometimes waking up is like Eating brine, overpowering and poisonous to the body, make us want to be like John Gotti, so we can terrorize every batty and warm the ass to the task.Knowledge is blast from the past, changing our behavior forever, making us lust for Utopia. Hate is waste like urea, and there is no profit from the odium of my Mother’s interest. Who is my brother?
There must be rest from this mindless killing. Let love run free cause God is willing! Every guy and girl must learn to chill...
And give the earth a break from soaking this endless blood spill.
LOVE MAIL (For Mrs. Lavern M. Jobson)
Big up Ingrid and Aunty Sylvie
I haven’t seen you in a while, That is not your style.From you I need a little chile, but so far, a miss is as good as a mile.When we were wed I saw that I had to decide I saw your pride, on your day as I & I's Bride.You told me one day, we were walking from Ewarton, That all you wanted to be was “Mrs. Jobson”.
Well that could be real, and I was flattered, I knew that what we did feel was all that mattered. When I took that oath I was more complete, You and I together…no chance of defeat.We were mountain meeting beach, university meeting street,The sky was replete with fantasies becoming concrete.
That was sometimes ago, the worst has passed. Now that Tyrone has grown the first will be the last. I wish I could say I miss you, but really You know,I can hear you in my mind... isn’t that scary though?
I want to touch you however, and spank that sexy ass. To keep you naked all day and make you scream “Rass!” Do you remember us at college, when we wouldn’t go to class? The kids would laugh and giggle, when our window they walked pass. I knew you were doing it for spite, You would keep it up all night, y’know they say the higher your sex drive, the more you are bright!
Well then you are the brightest, cause I’ve never seen the like. But you can’t outdo Corey cause he’s not the fainting type. I haven’t seen you in a while, I really love your smile. Let’s put all differences aside, bury them in the ocean wide, and then make love to the rhythm of the tide. I haven’t heard any news; you would tell me who died, and who was riding shot gun beside. My days with you were really live, a way to win you back I will contrive. You have the key to my heart so that’s a start. Plus you must understand - I did not marry to part. So if there is someone in your ear voicing fart, gunshot is here to remove the wart!
What did you say? “Overkill.” To that I say, “Peace, be still.” I have always loved you and always will. When it comes to my wife – it’s psychosis, paranoia, schizophrenia, all that good shit. But you married the madman so I guess you like it! Just don’t get afraid now, I’ll never call it quits. To say "divorce", brings up bile, Like I said before, I’m ready for a little chile. Dark like I&I, but with your face. A certain improvement on the Human Race. But I haven’t seen you in a while, You should visit I soon. Always in love…
Money is the Issue
(for da three Pinkys, Jah Dee Wngee, Flowers & Coat)
Big up the Thomas Family!
Money is the issue, it is the only truth,
Ambition is the root, power is the fruit.
Waste life on charity and you will find
Acrimony and regret at the end of time
No matter what just get paid
So that at nights you can get laid.
Your wife may love you and and swear that it is true
But have no money and you will get a clue.
Money is the issue, the buck stops there
Your worry is useless, just get that clear.
If you have no money then have no fear
All you will have is your ass for a chair
The girls pass you by, there is no respect
You have no chance to be in the elect
You can talk about avarice, selfishness and greed,
But without money, you don’t even own your own seed.
Money is the issue, imagine life poor,
Can’t fly to New York, can’t sing on the shore.
Can’t cop the new Benz, can’t buy the AIDS cure.
It’s your mouth and your john and your ass as a whore.
I’ve tried life without and I like it with,
I like to have Charmin’s when I go to the toilet
And water on Sunday nights just won’t do
I like Alizé, so money is forever the issue.
For da Debbies
There was a time when it was fun and fancy
But those days are done. For real it was chancy
To try and introduce the Sun. But think of the benefit
That Love has brought to earth. Now we’ll never call it quits
And all the time we thought the search was one of wits.
Life is one within all things made and unmade
So come along quickly children, into the water we’ll wade
Our hair to braid and we’ll never be afraid of the raid
Our nightmares laid to rest, the stress gone from our breast. Knowing
That the Sun will intercede on our behest. All sin now absent unless
We choose to undergo the test. At last to be one with the Don!
There is no play to no. There is only one way to grow
Towards the Sun. Some symbolize their growth with their Afro
Soon they will have to run. Nowadays symbols are for the Crow.
It’s what you allow in the here and now that decides how
Happy you will be. How far you will do free, what happens before
You bawl “Cree!” How long you stay lost before you find me.
It’s all internal like blood and it flows like a flood.
From the spiritual to the real it is about how good you feel
And how far you are willing to go to be the endless flow
Let us grant the fact that at times you will find it hard
To walk the road inspired by the Lord, but by faith you could fly
There would be little need to try; we could spend the time high…
Here you find the root of it and really a high truth of it,
MAN IS NOT DESIGNED TO DIE! But the route to eternity is concealed
As if it was part of a lie. So we search for forever in our tiny ways
But our search is like rats walking a maze. It makes us crazed
And so we lash out at the nearest things, the ones we love
It is like a cycle of iron rings, always on the move.
So now I speak with an intention to make an intervention
There is no question that without it, we will be in the frying pan.
But there is no need to jump in the fire
The trick is to find yourself within yourself and then go higher.