Aesthetically Audbibly Me

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"Aesthetically, Audibly Me" is a book of Spoken Word pieces designed to invoke images and sounds that will point the reader to God.

LET's Get Lifted!

8/8/10 1:06 a.m.

Elevation

I don’t think you’re ready for the truth of this spit

Cover your heart

Cuz it’s about to hit

Them quiet reserved spaces

Them places where you hide

And nobody can surmise

Not even the prophet with the keenest eyes

That you a thief

You’re a closet prostitute

Selling your wares for the biggest compliment

Searching for approval from man

Looking for a hand… out

To applaud

Your efforts to be fake

Not sharing the truth of your being

Because truthfully speaking

You don’t know it

And you show it

Every time you open your mouth

Your words betray you

They say that you

Have no idea

Live beneath your privileges

Not understanding your wealth

Crying about the hand you been dealt

My momma didn’t love me

I was dropped at birth

I wasn’t educated

On these things, you place your worth

Mephiboseth help to declare to the cripple and lame

Their place at the kings table still remains

Help me, Moses, stammering in speech

Declare to the feeble minded, God will speak

Education is not the key

What God speaks will be

He’s declared to the unloved

You are loved

He’s closer to you

Than a hand in a glove

He’s proclaimed to the crippled

In Him you walk again

And to the uneducated

Let this mind be within

That mind of Christ

The sword

The Word

The Knife

Christ is the Life

And the Light of the World

Illumination is the right of Creation

Be enlightened

And enlighten your self

Stop breathing earth fumes

And take this Eternal breath

Come up higher

Retire

The old man

Your place is in heavenly places

And spaces

Where Christ sitteth on the right hand

Come from the bottom

And join Him

Doing It!

8/8/10 12:46 a.m.

Evangelism

The creative juices are flowing

Inside me knowing

That this is an expression of Him

The true gem

I can take no credit

For this gift is not my own

But it came straight from the throne

From the bowels of the throne room of compassion

This limitlessness is matchless

None can compare

O contraire mon frere

Who would dare?

I am but an extension of Him

The true gem

Gem germinates the innate within

His next of kin

Stirring and contemplating

What part of him he will birth

Through poetry

Through dance

Through the arts

His best he imparts

To the unsuspecting

The suspect being

The ones without

Those that don’t shout

But shoot up

Caught in a rut

Wanting to die

Scared to try

To live

To these ones

He gives his gifts and talents

His abilities and possibilities

The drunk on the street

Is a philosophizing beast

Because the gift to reason is on the inside of Him

Inspite of Him

That thugged out pimp

God didn’t skimp

On the gift to sing

Everything is not about His diamond rings and bling bling

There’s an impartation in him

No less than them

Who cry Holy Holy on Sunday morning

These is the highways and hedges folks

That God calls us to invoke

Life in

That prostitute, homosexual, wife beating lunatic

Is your next of kin

GO GET THEM

Do You Really Know Whose I AM?

Take me out of your box

You got me trapped in a box

In your pretty little mind

O f what you think I should be

Not really seeing me

You see the dancer

Prancer

Rhythmic motion romancers

And you think

Hey she’s easy

A slick hook and a nice beat

Will lull this beast to sleep

With this same box

You remember the locks

Or kinky twist I used to wear

So you think

Like my former hair

Style

My pattern is tight

Easy to be straightened

Some grease will increase

The elasticity

So you think you can stretch me to fit

Whatever you deem appropriate

Or you think that just because I hum an occasional tune

Create a skit, using the metaphors of the stars and the moon

Or intellectualize on a theory

Or a conclusion surmise

That you see through my eyes

You think that I am rewritable

Like a hook on song that you just don’t like

Or made into 16 bars to make it tight

To your delight

Or a scene in a play that can be misquoted

Demoted

Or just outright made of no importance

I am not your concept of me

What you perceive me to be

See what you don’t see

Is this simmering eruption

This burning within me

To be the fullness of He

That called me

There is a cataclysmic eruption

Stirring within

Bubbling and gurgling

At the sound of Him

My next of kin

Hearing the ebbing, swelling tide that He is

Bursting to express to men

That He Lives

And He’s coming back again

For His next of Kin

The ones that look like Him

Walking

Talking

Breathing

Sighing Him

I just want to be like Him

To look like Him

To Please Him

To see Him

To Be Him

In Earth

His nature I must birth

I’m pregnant with possibility

Potential potentially potent to

Burst the water of my womb

The contractions consume

Consume my prayers

My meditation

My devotion

My dedication

His voice

My only medication

Will birth this nation

That’s on the inside of me

Please don’t take me to be

What you think you see

But truly see

That I am He

And He is me

Take me out of your box

Recess is OVER!

Stop Playin’

See Imma come at this piece

Like my life is about to cease

Because it is

This is my one shot in life

To effect with the knife

This sword in my throat

Is about to make me choke

Choke to get it out

Choke to spit

Choke to say

I’m sick of this sssh

Don’t say it out loud

It’s a crowd

Don’t you dare say that you sick of status quo

Here comes the big woe

The big woe of church folks

Man I could choke

I mean for real

What are we really doing?

Are we affecting change?

Or are we continuing to maim

Yeah, I get your three point sermon

Hopping and leaping

While the sinners murmur

Looking at us

Saying, Man I know they fake

Cuz that same bite of sin

Together we just ate

Digesting fornication

Sipping on thieving contemplation

Hyprociting the mystery

Corruption, a part of the church’s history

We can’t deny it

We need not even try it

We folks been lying

Since God put the sun in the sky and

Nailed His Son to die and

What for?

Do we really think that Satan ain't gone even the score?

Out of hell, we can’t connive

Or contrive

No more will we be alive

So how bout now

Now we stop playing games

And just do the dang thang

Get on our “J”

And get out of the way

For the revolution is a forward notion

A motion of people pressing in

Investing in

The next of kin

Laying seed in these kids

Living the life amid

This dying generation

This population

Full of aggravation

Needs every congregation

To just stop playing!