Hullux

I speak

From a home of Red-Moon Voodoo!

In lieu of a Speaking Earth
“This is the Fatherless Region”

In a Lost child
“This is Spiritual Rebirth”

Whose Summer dreams
From Winter Chiefs in blue skin
Screams
To youths
Lost
In the name
Niggaz!


Moving on and on
I spill my summer's light
From out a mic show, forming path
Within the night to trail insight
Ye-Yo
What was one, now is jazz . On and on
Cello, trumpet, sax, and horn. On and on
Keyboard, mike, base-check, drums
But with medusas among
Us, the magic's gone. With our tongues
On the run from some who don't pun
So we hum in slums, never spurning
Where all that's spun are flicks of the wrist
"Snap! Snap!"
And
The world keeps turning


Now
On to a maple flower
Named
"Bleue"
Seen in chieftain dreams
And set on an eagle's wing
With a warmth feeding
A growing bloom.
Until her temples struck
By lightning
spilling Cool Arrows of Desire
Into the Black.
But then
"Snap! Snap!"
And
The world keeps burning

Caduceus

As I slept for those four years
I dreamt of buying liquor from a
Shaman up the street. Only to come home and
Find Piccasso in my bed, Andy Whorhol in the toilet and
Banksy half eaten on the kitchen table
I'm sure I was thrilled by this discovery,
As I'd forgotten how to breathe, so my conscience
Dragged me to a space of darkness, where
Eagle spread across the temple's floor,
A mind-fart asks: "What's wrong? "

I told him:
"When I was young I wanted to fly
But Icarus stole my wings. So I see the shaman
Every now and again, to fly emotionally
I've endured the harshest winters
On my journey to the edge of
The mind. But never will I discover
Reason. Unless I have the Shaman's potion
And two Pokemon for spirit guides"

So we began a call for
The illuminated gods of
Silence to consume our lives
I lost my way outside the temple
Meaning,
The doors to perception were closed
My religion was growing, thin
Back on a path to get home
Where we discovered the tumbling,
Bumbling Metaphor
To be dead.

A group of us huddled around
Watching it with anticipation
For a sign of whether our dreaming
Is indeed real.
But I step away from that crowd and run into the
Forest of machines. Only to trip
Over a realization. Without even seeing me she says:
"Don't apologize.

A true regard for the situation,
Should be over how
Impartial Reality is so far,
during your stay"

House of Wax

And at night he stays home where
the dreaming is like water. Used
to mop up wasted time.

But some days he wondered
what would happen to man if he
were ever able to grasp his Loneliness
invoke the physical tangible lumps of grip.

His couches and chairs would stand their
waiting, patiently watching
while struggling to hold
in-laughter

The pictures clinging to his wall were bored with him
watching them live out crazy fantasies, all of them
having either lost their pride, or all faith
in whatever it was he'd originally set out to do

Snickering when he left the room.

Running vivid in-head like the earth's springs
we're the forgotten after-imageries of the hereafter
before the "who" he used, to be in a past life

Sometimes his hands remember
they used to be hooves or all the
people with sunday mornings in their smiles
while the sun laughs at this with his usual pretentious conviction

and death watching babies cry as they past by. Sense they don't want to become young men

Drunken Comanche

I'm standing inside
The house of evening
On an edge of existence
That watches tomorrow loose its color

When I step out into twilight
The spotted moon smiles full pleasures
Eclipsed by a Raven flung from heaven
Drowning inside itself
Until salvation is found in the night
Creature. Possibly GOD swooping down
To devour the bird in two
Watching my windows open
To this darling self-decay in evolution

Beasts by all whispers

Fall from the sky


A dragon lands on my lawn
Winking to me
I ask him-
"Which one of you shall I worship?"

The demon beside it
Walks up to my doorstep, saying-
"There's truth in everything"

The Whipping Boy

When you heard children
Are the future, did you hear it literally?
Or that kids in a large white house on top
A hill, will argue over who gets to play with your toys



Benjamin Black-Odinma

Some Re-Creation

Walking the hot streets
Of L.A night light shines down
Like x-ray

A gentle breeze
Chopping thoughts
Into tiny pieces of gold
I give to everyone young and old
Wealth will pass
Until the world is beautiful but,
Then I remember

We're all broke nowadays,
Even king and queen and
Unless your
under The Streetlight
You can't see my thoughts

Sour Milk

The silence increases by an aging tongue making less fuss.
Again, we do this sew......The urgent pressings of
rebirth will diminish. unweaving
our webAgain and Again, two sew this gap largely untouched.

Time is ageless within
Its symmetry shifts the true secretes too
make the flowers smile
Beauty breaks down the mouth venom
is distilled in the mind, and labeled
so as something important to put a way
Alien materials form around the contour
of our actions and crawl through a nervous
system to push out your black third eye

I'm alone!

enlightened by this knowledge
Of symmetry's superior gaze in time and space
once Again whole
Wholly cocooned. Your truth is being
Impregnable to bullets of ego- that lying immortality

Ouroboros eclipse

To stand myself I must
fill up with voices. Anything.
that promises delivery to a doorstep...
And once again in my search to shut him
away, I fail level after level.
Sew,
i've distracted the where abouts of my thoughts
that This chimera I created will terrorize a ghost
in some other kind. Instead of the kind
that's glue to my attention
Sew,
with the blemishes
disappearing, it's honorable at first
Until you realize you're only worry's skin deep

Grimorie

You can't find
The Trick
The one you think
It's Magic.

Step up slow and shy

You're wowed by
Amazement you think is
Magic come closer
but please try and hide

You'll learn
If you only try
Once, twice, and
A third time charm
Step up, step up
No need for alarm
Cera, Cera
I geuss I
Lied