My father's garden cradled in my memory
had breathtaking chrysanthemums, ravishing dahlias,
along with playful jinias,
he dreamed of a life around those breathtaking flowers,
digging and watering, and pruning the hedges,
a life full of tranquility, connected with ethereal nature,
like a fascinating picture painted by a visionary artist
with shades of lush green...
painted with brown soil, golden sunshine, and pouring rain.
I see his powerful hands dusty with mud,
holding the tools with strong grasp,
his upright face crimson toiling in the sun,
his whole body in a position of worship,
praying to nature.
This is a dream which never happened to him.
He did not have a chance to live in his dreamland.
In hindsight, I’ve always kept my mind right,
I only lose sleep at night over the that I write,
it’s like the weight on Atlas’ shoulders, are you hearing what this rap is,
a fight against the controllers, modern day john the Baptist,
but I ain’t selling a savior, it’s too late for later,
my labor of love, Ep the revelator,
takin my time, like im taking in drugs, chill Doug,
never underestimate the evil that man do,
and never take on more than you can handle,
I got a weed based diet, along with scripting the ill ,
I am the Ecliptic, sun worship, if it don’t rhyme, don’t force it,
spray cans on the brain, Ramo on the train tracks,
’s never been the same as way back,
people fade, the brain finds a new pathway to explain,
why the fuk life is how it is,
society is aimed at making you feel powerless,
9-5, ain’t that some ,
but you do what you have to when your passionate,
Randy Orton pose like a statue, Ricky Morton arm drag,
I’m opposed to the fascist posing radical, I’m burning els with Cobra Command and Zartan,
they say I thyme like an animal, I say I’m more of a sage, ageless stoic,
but I put it down nice, that’s the meaning of a poet.
Autumn
She shakes her auburn hair
And Summer's loss is Winter's gain
The heartbreak moment
Here again.
A beauty tempting to the eyes
Her backdrop; painted vivid, scarlet skies
She breezes in like dancing Ginger
On reddened carpet, the silent seasonal swinger.
Whispering her intention to all who will listen
On slippery ground her garments glisten.
The naked tree exposed and bare
Stands shameless in the streetlight's stare.
And all the voices in the town
Becry denuded Summer's gown.
The green is lost. The seamless lushness
Replaced by Wintery shapeless toughness.
And yet, with all the withered fronds,
The fallen desires of that which belongs,
A hidden motivation starts
To teach our fickle, sun-lust hearts..
That while we long for sunlight's haze,
And mourn the loss of Summer's gaze,
We find that deep within our sorrow
A golden promise of tomorrow.
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