Saturday, December 29, 2012
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Friday, November 2, 2012
We Are Not Safe
As a church goin' atheist
Borderline
Narcissist
Personality disorder
He was a closet satanist
In fact his mentality
Was bent on destruction
You see, he craved chaos
And like brutus,
Before Ceasar
He too smiled with pleasantry before thrusting
Insanity into the flesh of another
Intellectually he was more intelligent than all of those
Beneath him
and he living a lie of
Fetishes
Concealed...it.
Its a trip how maniacal
Was he that none would the wiser
They would even excuse his bad behavior
everyone knew he
Was a spoiled kid
Anyway...
He was socially inept
So he kept all
Kindness to himself
Beneath a flat affect
Concealed a monster.
A sociopath who wrote in journals
About killing his father
And mother
His brother
The colored
Mexican
Wapps
And sand
Niggers of the world
Yeah he right there
Stare him in the eye
When you see him
On FOX news or some church pew
especially in the locker
Room where
Young boys get
Sanduski'd
We will not be safe
If we continue
To be blind...
Monday, October 8, 2012
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Mike Mawlo Interviews UrbanVoodoo for SPECIAL College Radio Day Program
KLBC Joins 515 countriese from around the world for special College Radio Day Programing! This is the 2nd Annual Celebration with live streaming around the world!
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
On Solid Ground
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Monday, August 27, 2012
Spoken Soul Sundays
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Untitled
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Quasar
Pressure points,
Every joint,
Every muscle,
Every pore,
Drips the sweetness
of your feminine sweat
The wet moistness of
your skin
Glistening...
A reflection of my combined chakras
Emerging into a perpendicular climax
Shining luminescent
Upon you like Amon-Ra
Your body speaks to me in tongues communicating the language of godhead
And I hear your moans
In the pantheon of our ecstasy within your womb
With every thrust I burst
like the quasar into your universe
Emitting light into your darkness
I am the spark which
Causes your reason to stir
Let me become the catalyst to your sensations
Allow me to devour you and give birth to a new beginning....
twice born within your juices
Before diving head first into your ocean
Queen....
You are the thirst that drives my passions
I shall poor warm libation upon your bosom
And anoint you with my birthright
Elevation
Particles articulated
On parchment
To become one with
Sound vibrations
Floating on wind
I am nyabinghi heartbeat
Andalusian folklore
And Serengeti rhythm
I smell of Imithi
Reverberating from
Ancient forests
I hold concert with
Griots and blackademics
My scholarship
Is endorsed by
Angels
my timbre like
The thunder of eleven
million Mandinka
Heals in hot pursuit
Of would be slavers
The sound Rising like Hausa tongue
Across Nile Valleys
Call me Africa
I have clothed the bones
Of nations with Kente
Descended of Sengbe
Jumo
Baba 2 A'Jaye
I am 32.5°
North and South
An equinox
Traversing
The land of the midnight sun in a fedora
Check my altitude
and get at me I aint hard to find
Catch me in ya local
Speakeasy politickin with
Ghetto savants
Dialoguing on street dirges
fighting street urges
Observe this elevation
From earth to man like dust and sands
Gathering with the
Energy of typhoons and
Tornadoes
Elevating cars
And concrete
This be natures
Violence channeled
In word
Where these thoughts
Emerge through scribbled
images of forever.
Dripping Ink
poetry dens lending phrases and idioms to pass time countinuums
ladies n gentleman hold on
to your seats as we quantum leap
through word forms
we battle contoursionist twistin truths and bendin facts like warped metal unwillin to settle we be the
out spoken
vibrating that broken English
we be on some King
shit like Outkast
so fresh and clean
surrounded by Queens
in the cypher
we peel layers from soliloquies
overstanding 360 degrees
dripping ink on earth like meteor showers
we be the new towers standing on ground zero
Off that Cush
smoke rising from the micstand
like look mommy no hands
I spit volatility like gasoline
you rather walk through hell with draws soaked in gasoline than to challenge
my pen
I swing
Liquid swords like
Wu Tang
In they hayday
Laced with Some
Gangsta shit
Like Eric.Wright hosting
Kay Day
So just maybay
You should stop
and chill
So you can feel
This Mercury Reign
Storming cause even when
we brainstormin
We be drippin ink
Disclosure
his demeanor said more than his lips could.
She could tell there was some awkward testimony afoot.
After all,
It had been several months since normal
And furthermore, her feelings had subtly changed.
Matrimony had been a far cry from happily ever after
...A final chapter in a fairytale with too many
Missing pages
They had played their game on too many stages for the world to see
And this....
This was the end.
Castrstion
All from him
From the deepest
Of all his quarters
He is sleepless now
Most times he is sheepish now,
Afraid to stand without
bending subtly,
His pants sag from lack of care,
His language
Lost and forgotten
Replaced by
Eselayengee
Now he cares not for kindred nor
countrymen
Culture,
an integral part
Now cast away like
Rarely considered jigsaw
And with war on the horizon he fails to see
Unwilling to be accountable
Counted daily
At approximately 4:30 pm
Dinning by 6
reclining by 9
Beleagered
a box with words
the sharp edges of jargon
valiantly smite the
irrelevance of contradiction
with each phrase
each participle
that dangles from the
ballpoint before splashing
onto my page,
i interlope the freedom
of the unjust only to find
justice
muffled under the gag order of
judgement
we live in an irrational world
where denizens of devilry
pry their way into my thoughts
with fanciful promises of freedom
what freedom?
the angst that allows me to
pitch away my triumps at the five
and dime hoping for a dream?
or the belicosity that enables a war
machine to roam the desert freely
in search of foreign prey?
what else should i scaple onto the page?
promises of romantic certainty that
always seems to escape the
reality of we?
Us becoming beleagured
the heavy pressures of sovereignty...
a farce that does not make its way beyond the beaches....
where do i stand
is this place some sort of mystical
wonderland
where the fantasy's
of citizen ship
are only designed to lure
the would be traveler into
some trap
perhaps
the truth lies squarely behind the gestures
killing me softly before
gestation
a nation that has somehow
lost its head
seems we're fed from
a chipped spoon
the lot of us bafoons
and i'm getting tired of pretendin'
too busy focused on saving face
our saving grace begining to
have a funny taste to it
beleagured like a
battleship
caught in a crossfire
our squadron suffering friendly fire
and we can't see
blame the fog
I can't pretend not to see
that we are a fragmented
and vulnerable
got to be careful of associations
closed communications can
be the death of us
never know what folk be discussin'
20X20
Grudgingly polite
Most often grouchie and
Uncomfortable
I dwelled on her negatives
My mind justifying my
Disposition
I certainly knew how to be
Pissed
Always defining the principle of a
Thing with a pet peev
So with ease I misjudged
Misunderstood
Misplaced
The love that I craved
From her
Too good
Too be lacking
Too bad to be perfect
I gave more
Bullshit than I received
I guess...
Hindsight...
And what not
20times20times
Would come and go
To and fro
Back and forth
Like a crazy dog running into
A clean glass door
I was too dumb for my own good.
I couldn't see beyond my reflection
Fearing rejection
So I projected my negatives
Directed my insults
Suspected results
That were assinine
That's how love escaped me
I was too rigid
Too petty
I thought of I alone
And now she's gone.
Like the thrill...
She's gone
And loneliness is a bitter pill
To swallow.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Revolt
Tyranny rages Played out on stages Where wack MC's Bleed the ink from pages Lost souls found only on stoops And crowded fdance clubs funky with ignorance Rubbing elbows with would be pimps and worn out hoes Carrying woes and knock off clothes but no care or concern For the turn as the magician conjures dreams on the Mic Making nightmares become ambitions New positions to explore The floor packed with bad breath and B.O. They see no evil A revolution like bicycle rooms spinning in place Going nowhere Burning time like calories on a treadmill I am swearing at the thought of it A revolt of conformity Resist change while changing they do The track master fails to skip A beat In the streets skip to fail In slow motion Seeking a new story to tell In a hot sixteen No longer able to wake up Before noon on an average day Descendents of royalty Choose the average way Superman reduced to Clark Kent chasing his Lois Lane Revolts of inconsistency We perpetuate violence while seeking peace... A damning testimony indeed.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
"The Desolation of Uncertain Love"
Her love a mantra Of indecision
Her smile a subtle glimpse
At the unknown
Mysterious.... She was the apple of
Many eyes
While only having I's
For me
Too blind to see that She cried from smiling eyes
Wise and crafty
I prided my self with her Fluids, her seduction Her intuitive nature...
She seemed to
Have a palm on the future
Her movements
Forever calculated
Slick and cunning
With an unsurpassed Guide to erotic love
Often psychotic love
Sometimes robotic love
Like it was a job type love
Or something
And for some reason I had to have her
I had to possess her
To control her actions
As if I could rule her like
Cyrus
Ruled the Persians
She would yield to my Every whim
And then
Like any civilization that has grown Decadent
She crushed me.
My love was left to ruin
Like the ancient city of Pompei
My thoughts of her Still lingering
My every desire Was a wall with
Carvings of her endeavors
Stories of our conquests
Decorate the facade
Her lust Still my ambition
Her words
Still an echo
My soul
A conundrum
Still waiting for a solution
Why did I love her so?
@UrbanVoodoo
Friday, May 11, 2012
My ink spills
Insight upon Body like Water
bathing Freshness Washing away
The dirt of illusion
And false conclusions
Mentally abusing Leaving bruising ...
And scar tissue
The scar tissue
Heals with thoughtful
Strokes and thought provoking
Quotes Making brilliance
Omnipo-
Tent[s] like
Past realities
That formulate Ideas and inclinations
So much fascination with Exotic origin
Original man
Like original sands of
Sahara We seek legacies
Stolen And these words
Become ocean And lake
And river Leading to streams
And mountain passes
Reminiscent of Atlas
And Kilimanjaro
I have seen ages And epochs
De oxyribo nucleic acid strands
That span across galaxies
See we
We are what is and was
Because We are
No need for puny explanations
dwarfed by my story
Who ever knew the we…
We were Pharaohs and deities
Mapping Pleiades we
Be the epitome of truth
Foretold Behold my journey
I have walked upon water with
Wisdom I have walked upon water with wisdom
And they still want to define me
Spiritually bind me
To pages even though ages and ages
Testify to the jazz that is me
I carry sound vibrations called rhythm interpreting visions
And wave forms
I was born of stardust and Heat
The angels Beat Nyahbinghi drums
See we create sound
In the corpses of dying
Stars becoming black holes
Jazz is the Sol of our Ancestors
Speaking through brass trumpets
And trombones X and Y chromosomes
Birthed from 12 moods Like twelve moons
Just ask Yo mama
And she will teach you gumbo recipes Of Dizzy and Sachmo
Taj Mahal and Coltrane She will regurgitate Count Basie
like eagle feeding young I am merely thinking
Inking jazz notes
On altered scale
Augmented On the 7th cord
Watch me chase Saxophone with 4-bar phrases
I am percussion
Inking insight upon body
Like water bathing freshness
I am jazz Yeah... I am jazz
Monday, April 30, 2012
Denial
As he watched it unfold
He thought himself lucky.
He could claim that he never made
A racial slur
Nor had he ever denied
A minority conversation
In fact,
He,
deep inside felt
They were inferior
Becoming increasingly weary
Of them with each passing decade
If it wasn't for honest
White men...
his brain would
Stop midsentence.
He could justify the words
As long as he could
maintain deniability
After all, he was acting......Acting on years
of aggression;
Feeling eager
to watch his kin
Snuff them out!
But because of
Regulations
They could no long
Loose dogs
Or Wield firehoses.
Today...No one hears of the
Cross burning
The whole lawn turnin
bright like christmas;He was blessed to claim
That he had never been there...
Yet his father glorified himself
On the black skin of
Poor souls
Daddy
made sure they didn't
forget their roles
Likewise,On the job he was sure
To give them the shifts
That separate families
He Gave him...Gave him
Excuses when the raise
Was earned!
He took breakroom turns
Talking shit at the watercoolerHmmmmI wonder what they could be
discussin...(Call it what it is!)Coonin' although they would
Pretend they didn't see us
He was sure to claim black_distance/ from_friends who would never cross his threshold
He is not racist
The Poor guy,
that bullshit is in his bones
And there he stood
Watching them kill the boy
Watched the boy's hoodie become crimson
Watched them attempt
To conceal it
Watch them refuse to arrest
Watch them angry FOX
On news
Then he watched him walk away 2nd degree free....Almost...
we almost swept
Another malcom
Martin
Medgar
Kennedy
Under the classified rug
We almost robersoned
Another fred hampton
But they saw it too
...And he was no racist
More like an enabler
A codependent personality
Unable to admit his bias
Unable to see that he is part
Of the priveledge
He is side by side with his
Brother
that had the nerve to kill
He did not petition his government
He did not demand justice
Because some of his people are
Out there too
"Out where?"In unjust conditions
Compelling young black
Men to be would be victims
Did he file complaints on police
Department
For racial profiling
Going 65 on a pedestrian
Highway
You just freeway yo'self
On by
Where you at America?
My Black Hands
I am oppressed Unable to breathe,
To see beyond tomorrow To move toward a destiny Stifled...
Yet...
My fellow assumes That opportunities are bought And paid for;
This life is painful.
Half the time I'm a slave,
The other half a suspect 50/50
chances are like Wild jokers in a game of spades
I been booked so many times
I should have run a
Boston But that's like saying
hindsight Is 20/20
But that would imply that
I should have thought twice
About being a black child,
Black man...
My black hands Full of sand
My head hung low Hoodie
Covering my Penial gland
God don't make no mistakes
The truth is...
This system don't believe in fair shakes.
Random Incidents of Pain (R.I.P.)
RANDOM INCIDENTS OF PAIN (R.I.P)
I been tested
I been...
Tried by fire
I been buried alive
Beneath the rubbish of
Filthy books
Tested by filthy looks
I been a crook
A cronie
A little homie
Ditching school
Cuz I hated trying to sit
Still
No longer believing
In make believe
My mind on fire
First time I ever knew the devil's
Temptation
Too many nightmares
These days its hard to dream
Wasn't long ago that
Fantasized about childhood
Play back home in New Orleans
Frustrated cuz I was
Trapped between 79th street
and Queen
Came here blindfolded
My eyes duck taped to fairy tales
Cali snatched that
tape clean from my eyes
I still feel the antagonizing
Sting of it
Every time I let my mind wander
Through the enchanted forrest
Of childhood memories
I only see the shadows
Had to find out the hard way
Niggas out here careless about
Life holding death hostage with
Three letters blasted on a cross street wall
R.
I.
P.
Rest in Pieces of parchment
Broken memories
And tired war stories We
Rest in pieces of bitter memories
Remembering how much unlike our
Mother's son we have become
Dead homies
Remembering the time moms sat next to us in our hospital bed
Lying silent
condition critical
The first time violence
ever came into the home
At 14
We celebrate death like
A birthday lost in three letters
R.
I.
P.
A young man growing old
Wasting away like a malnourished tree
Blindfolded by ignorance
No wonder we can't see
The dreaded screech of wailing sirens
No wonder our ears are deafened to the truth of it all
I have buried a lost soldier
Adolescent stick up kid shit
The homies paralyzed by grief
Dolla died at the hands of his own
Relative
Where we live life strangles the future
With bob wire and steel wool
It only takes a little brillow
To filter the horn
That way we can watch death
Burn slowly before
We take that last blast and then
R.
I.
P.
I hear the clash
Of dull steal
From the sound of sherif badges
Scraped against the concrete
Justice always seem$ to get stepped on
Protection always scarce
Why prevent violence, when violence protects you from the unemployment line?
Subsequently
We
Rest In Pieces of charred glass
Falling from the ceiling of the facade
Niggas out here careless about
Life holding death hostage with
Three letters blasted on a cross street wall
R.
I.
P.
Rest in Pieces of parchment
Broken memories
And tired war stories We
Rest in pieces of bitter memories
Remembering how much unlike our
Mother's sons we have become
Carryin guns in the 4th Grade
The homie son already know
How to weigh a gram
Daddy proud his boy
Already got that hustle in him
No use to fight the truth
The devil already winnin'
More than likely we all sinnin in some
Way
Just that in this urban climate
Young folk be victims of gun play
Most of em only know one way
And some may not know at all
Following blindly
Until
R.
I.
P.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Fw: Emailing: I speak for the.doc
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile
-----Original Message-----From: youngpoetsociety@yahoo.com
Date: Thu, 22 Mar 2012 18:27:10 To: Urban
Reply-To: youngpoetsociety@yahoo.com
Subject: Emailing: I speak for the.doc
