My Life & A Day After I’m Dead by Derek Moore

Posted: August 13, 2009 in Poems
I’ve got nothin’ but time to write n’ recite
n’ ignite the fire within that burns so bright,
to compose the flows that’ll unfold insight.
The fighter that throws blows, the riots I’ll incite.
A pariah’s sight, lookin’ out from the inside.
Panoramic view of being consumed by parasites.
Quote my antedote. I’m elevatin’ the hype
with the mind of a messiah, prophecy in the night.
This type of mental might unparalleled on the mic
is the life that leads people from the dark into light;
from the forbidden fruit, I’ve bitten off a generous bite
and I hunger for knowledge with a gluttonous appetite.
I am the reaper’s scythe.  Harvest n’ gather the ripe.
When the time is right, revolutionaries write.
It’s plain as black n’ white, I’m instigatin’ a fight.
Mystic words I write, making you aware of the slight.
I come upon the scene like a thief in the night
if I were the Christ come to rid the world of fleas n’ lice
so be wise n’ listen to my advice
or pay Ceaser’s price n’ be satisfied with a meager slice
we’re all gods blessed with eternal life.
All the pain n’ strife stems from the fact we’re attached
to vice.
The microphone is a loaded device
being used to move people into social demise.
We’re breakin’ into tribes!
Feel the ethnic vibes?
I inscribe my rhymes into you minds,
scheme n’ devise to part n’ devide.
Now is the time to decide
cause the weak will die n’ only the strong will survive
when the powers collide n’ Armegeddon’s arrived.
I take heretical theories, twist n’ commit deicide.
This world is hellified, filled with deception and lies.
Through my eyes I see every ill-intended disguise.
Study n’ analize, observe n’ then verbalize
what I learn n’ then turn people to the path of the wise.
I’ve been labed an Omen-Damian.  Malachi.
Disciple of the third eye, just a thorn in a zealot’s side.
Subliminal messages becomin’ far n’ wide.
I’ll modify the tides.  Through my mind, I alter the times
with prophetical rhymes, not hypothetical finds.
I unwind the fine line that is tangled n’ twined.
I’m a universal mind of geometric design.  Only one of a kind.
Sucking out the power inside, the power to rise.
Father, son, n’ Ghost combined.
Look to the sky begin to ponder the cosmic signs.
Step into the shrine n’ expand your mind.
You will find you’ve been blind, another slave to the grind.
I’m a mental cage-clean away the age of grime
n’ let your soul shine.
Break youself up outta the bind.
     by Derek Moore

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