Lust lives in the church
Lying and cheating live here
This place is corrupt
I get a free shot
Don't miss, you've done this alot
A free shot at success
No one there to make you feel like you're less
My brain goes corrupt
I don't want to go bankrupt
Everyone's staring at me
I really have to pee
Take a deep breath
It's not as bad as death
I dribble twice
I'm gonna have to pay the price
I shoot the ball
I'm sorry to all
I missed
Now I'm pissed
But you know what
It wasn't that bad as I thought
Like alcohol on a small cut
It hurts, it's really hot
Stings at first
But then it's gone in a burst
At least I tried
I learned what not to do
Now I'll have more pride
You have to push yourself to do things that make you feel like poo
I'll get fouled some other time in the game
Having it all is kind of lame
I asked the sun
rising slow over palms—
How much more
can a place bend
before it breaks?
The sun didn’t answer.
It just burned—
like truth
too hot for hands
that hide it.
I asked the courthouse steps,
worn smooth by pleading feet—
How many lies
have you carried upward
in polished shoes?
They said nothing,
but I heard the echo
of a thousand verdicts
whispering
not quite justice—
not quite.
Down by the water,
where the tide keeps time
better than men,
I asked the ocean—
How deep does corruption go?
The ocean laughed,
rolled back blue shoulders,
and said:
Deeper than your questions,
but not deeper than change.
And in the streets—
where the poor stand waiting
longer than promised —
I heard a voice,
cracked but living:
It becomes what we allow.
So I ask you—
not the sun,
not the steps,
not the sea—
How much more
can Florida become
before somebody
stands up
and says
Enough.
Government has been rotten for years,
While good governance no longer exists.
Leaving many hungry power politicians behind,
With people who have no choice but to abide.
To abide those self entitled and ignorant public servant
while indulging power and corrupt.
An opportunist dressed in a Samaritan suit,
who always want to dispute.
To dispute a topic he has no clue about
As if they're doing it for clout.
Maybe it's a consequence of voting celebrities,
choosing good looks over good qualities
Qualities like integrity and credibility
and not manipulation and dishonesty.
We can work this out together,
vote wisely for the better.
Better might sound like a dream,
for best is what our heart scream
Make your vote worthy
For it's been a tough journey
corrupt
sinful, hurtful
harming, demeaning, demoralizing
fraud, theft, honor, innocence
helping, uplifting, encouraging
helpful, unsoiled
pure
Equality was never ours to own,
It may have been free, but only for the privileged
Equality is just a word, without any meaning,
Just emptiness, for us, and a foreign dream
Equality for us was never meant to be seen
Used as bait for those, who are targets -
To this unfair scheme
freedom sold at a price -
A deal in exchange for our life,
A way to control and keep us quiet
They stole our rights, just like they stole our lands
Then used our pain to their advantage
Profiting off of the power they corrupted,
Whilst watching us for rights -
They allowed themselves to have for free,
Creating systems to uphold their policies
Equality is universal,
Yet, has been manipulated by the white man,
For capitalistic greed,
And ownership of power,
And now is a luxury, given only to a select few
In the rooms where good men lay dying
The air is foul and vile
The doors are locked from the inside
And no one can hear the crying.
In the rooms where good men lay dying
You can’t beat death with a smile
The walls are steeped in innocent blood
And love has given up trying.
In the rooms where good men lay dying
All is filled with the empty husks of life
No just battles are ever won here
And the air is overburdened with strife.
No light will ever come in by chance
While God’s angels patiently keep the score
The demons play outside and dance
In the space beyond the door.
In the rooms where good men lay dying
The cries and noise of this world can enter not
Only voices of angels, saints and martyrs are heard
Comforting them still living but not to be disturbed.
Closed off from this nasty world of pain and sin
Where war and crime and violence win
These rooms were made to save the saved
Returning to an eternity of God’s love forever deserved.
(Epigram For A Corrupt Prosecutor)
Scales of justice swing so slowly
for your sin,
Snatching silver secrets safely sheltered
skin.
We see your shadow stretch a shady stair,
And mock the ''justice'' sleeping soundly
there.
I, in a culture,
Touting masks that don't fit,
Find peace now, in panic,
Found courage to quit,
Declaring the difference,
Of sinner or saint,
Sacred or spoiled,
Of Shadow or paint.
Why in our world there's always a war,
Nations fight so long they forget what for,
It's been like this since humans been here.
battles take endless lives for obedience and fear
The first battle's fought.were fought by the tribes,
Two men loved the same lady cost lots of lives
Then came religion and the mess preachers made
They fought to the death it was called a crusade,
These groups who fought prayed to the same god
But they still killed each other to me that was odd,
Many have been killed cuz two kings can't agree,
They even fight wars from ships on the sea
They started wars using swords and just shields,
Now the weapons will leave bodies like fields,
All the people who died in the wars on this earth,
I don't think the reason outweighed the worth,
Fighting over land that's already lived on,
And killing those people til there race is all gone,
leaders who start wars sacrificing their own race,
Nothing but cowards fighting from a safe place,
all the blood in time that the earth has soaked up,
Will never stop cuz there's to much corrupt..
In a world full of snakes
How do you tell which is poisonous
Each identical
Yet some harmful
In a world full of political parties
How do we know which one is all inclusive
Different paths
But the same ending?
In a world full of smiles
How do you differentiate between lie and truth
When promises are empty
And lies become identity
In a world of corrupt politicians
How do you decide which one is genuine
Are they playing nice for their campaign?
It's hard to trust when they've no shame
In a world that favours white
How do we expect change
When history is the same
When past and present live in the same age
In a world that fights for power
How do we become equal
When the world is against black people
When life is a climb to superiority
In a world that lives in delusion
How do we escape ego
When they are blinded by privilege
When they lead without reason
They called it progress
But the last time I checked
Progress can't exist without justice
Especially when we still can't breathe even in the afterlife
But we will always scream
No justice, no peace
We can't be silenced
Even if we have to use violence
You see the politicians using our graves
To boost their campaigns
'Forgetting' to mention our names
Then Simultaneously putting the blame
On us to reclaim
The narrative that we brought it on ourselves and say what a shame
All part of their sick and twisted games
Their fake sympathy
Is their way of being absolved from accountability
So they don't have to give an apology
But now they can create an anti black policy
For a country built off of slavery
Can't you see the irony
America claims its a democracy
A place where they claim you get treated equally
But really it's a place full of hypocrisy
Where democracy is for white people only
The Corrupt
Always chasing after money.
Tone of voice, overbearing.
Running from consequences.
With no discipline.
A rebellious youth.
For dishonest gains.
Given false testimony.
The corrupt.
Never give to the poor.
Take all for themselves.
Liars and cheaters.
Nothing with them is pure.
Don’t fall into temptation.
Disobedient, they are.
With sinful patterns.
A lost generation.
Unelected billionaire,
Puppeteering the POTUS...
Money-stringing corruption:
A democratic country,
Lunching its democracy:-
the air reeks of stale coffee and ink-stamped lies,
judges sit like smug kings,
smirking over lives they'll never live,
dismissing truth with a gavel's cough.
innocent men shuffle like cattle,
faces drawn, hands calloused from the grind—
plead guilty or rot waiting.
'justice, ' they call it,
while the lawyers get fat off their despair.
the court stenographer types it all up,
the lies, the twisted logic,
and the perjury sworn like gospel
under a fluorescent crucifix.
if you or I did what they do,
we'd be cuffed and carted off,
but they wear robes like armor,
cloaked in immunity,
proud in their manipulation,
gods of small, dirty kingdoms.
good men shrink in fear,
their courage ground down
by the grinding stone of this machine—
truth doesn't pay,
honor doesn't sell,
and doing the right thing
is the fastest way to lose.
Hillsborough,
where the guilty are freed
and the innocent are crushed,
where justice is just another game
rigged from the start,
Callused, without a true heart.
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