There was once a woman who felt so vulnerable That she felt she needed to build walls impenetrable 'Cause men before have used and abused A treasure... This treasure of such great magnitude would be priceless in any sheik’s harem That would be the diamond encrusted crown of pure and un-matchless gold on any king’s brow A treasure that would turn any frowns upside down In a world full of maybes She would be that can be in a man’s life She said she can be the sanity in his world of insanity She would be his trust in a world of “In God We Trust”...but just can’t say the Lord’s Prayer in an institution of education And while we’re all slaves to our impulses She admits she’s not perfect But yet still a treasure Offering pleasure Pleasure not only of the passions of one’s carnal desires But also of spiritual and mental elevation Togetherness ... Well...that’s all she’s after Now I know your body is frail And men had the audacity to call it a temple But yet still refused to be baptized But right now I wanna worship in your temple Baptize me Convert me at the alter of your soul As I behold the light at the end of your tunnel Got me one step closer to heaven And I know that men have been trying to GET into you But I’m jus trying be into YOU So when we’re done I can reverse and take that time to converse And expose our naked souls on the linen of ecstasy Under the cover of a warm caress Because you have chosen to bless me with your presence And more even so....your essence I want us intertwined And braided like my hair Meaning I want us to grow Meaning I want you to stay In reference to what Lupe say So if I cud speak into your soul until it becomes whole Inspire me to do the impossible till I’m centuries old And if two alternate realities were to collapse under our touch Would you risk it all for one second’s rush Or live a lifetime without So I wanna voice my concern For many brothers don’t wanna get burned So if I step back and act all thuggish, ruggish and bad to the bone Like a rapper without ice Flossing words Valuable enough to bribe a prostitute‘s panties off Don’t worry..... You got me You got me

We sadomasochistic like using our rapist as our therapist so socially we never amount to shit till we’re touched by the physchedellic, transcendent of our circumstances we end up in strange places. Strange wishes to the unseen, whispers to darkness on our knees contemplating our Gods’ beliefs like; is this what i wish to believe even when others believe in me “am i the only God they see?” or are they polygamists polytheistic to every human being? Idols, gods, golden calves, holy grails, idol gods, idle gods and ideal gods, god is he, god is she, Buddha under a tree focusing his chi, god is he, god is she, Newton and gravity. E=MC2, Einstein we create frankenstein monsters of each other and its only natural that our God become the very thing we hate because it’s what we shaped, hatred. Merciless and unforgiving omnipotence embodied in bodies that walk around we, so i pity our history for a recurring factor; no one recognizes our destiny and so the majority floats aimlessly through a space time continuum interlocked with doom and these parallel lives we lead, distorted personalities, twisted into a yarn ball that will unravel as a feline’s play thing until the end where time will end, time will be of no meaning and God will outlive eternity and the gods we created shall die at our feet.

Your lips should be touching mine this very moment entangled in my dreams reaching for the heavens slipping between its seams.. past cloud 9 where fire-flies burn the night sky like a setting sun on a sunday evening relaxed to the sounds of crickets and wind gushing through the cracks of time or grains of sand slipping through a clenched fist, and the skyline always keeps its word and kisses the sea goodnight

Niggers got plantation memories, plantation mentalities and it's very clear the way we still call each other nigga, instead of brother and refer to our sisters as bitches, slithering through a corporate world of snitches, rich get richer profiting off our prophets, poor get poorer pimping chalices of sliver and gold teeth blinging to cover up the trash that exits over-exposed souls. I know it sounds cold but truth should always be told we got souls for sale souls for sale they shouldn't be cheap but yet they're for sale We suppress ourselves so much we hardly recognize our own reflections and little black girls don't recognize their own beauty because they're too busy bleaching still trying to be something when they were told that they were nothing. So they grow older and begin prostituting their bodies, still trying to be somebody, while men souled out, prostitute their very souls for a mouth full of gold, boxed into stereotypes so we fail to think outside the box of gold and sliver composed grills symmetrical to prison cells and blame it all on the box called television or more specifically BET. But really, we were behaving this way before we even had TV, way before new world history because it was the black man that sold the black man to the white man. Just in case you haven't heard, slavery of any kind is called the same slavery even when it’s the enslavement of our own kind and even worse our own mind. We sold out so much ‘til we souled out Souled out Souled out