left handed child (NPM2017 10)


i dreamed of the left-handed

child standing in the middle of

the road

i have been dreaming about

preaching on milk cartons

most of my dreams

come from the ocean

my sleep is a classroom

my teachers

are mostly dead

they speak

because i listen

i dreamed of the left-handed

child standing in the middle

of the road

i have dreamed of

a line stretching

back to the beginning

how can a line be

a maze

snatch a people out of a

paradigm set them

outside of existence

and majick must

occur if they

are to go on

they must be protagonist

crossing a desert

coming into

the maze of another

man’s logic

a straight line

up out across

an ocean

i have dreamed of

sitting on the bottom

looking up

woke to find myself

seeing from above

things revealed

i dreamed of the left-handed

child standing in the middle

of the road

Eya texted me


a push in the small

of the back

up the hill

staying to the right

of the left-handed

child leaving yucca

anise brandy and

canary seed

at his feet

Omi tutu.
Ile tutu.
Ona tutu.
Tutu eshu.
Tutu orisha.

staying to the

right side of the road

bowing  to the left-handed child

armed with bow & arrow


the door for me

Omi tutu. [Mojubar: I give homage
Ile tutu. [Omi:water]
Ona tutu. [Tutu:cool,fresh]
Tutu eshu. [Ile:house,temple]
Tutu orisha [ona: road! path]

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in conversation with God


17861709_10155304314536424_2604698520286078331_n.jpgdo you talk to God

do you listen when

God answers do you

overstand God’s will

God demands

you see God’s work

you can hear

God’s voice floating

in the vibration beneath

the surface of the

ocean phantoms below

feel God’s power

blowing in the wind

leveling the plains

moving the mountains

opening the skies

hanging the moon

pulling back the sun

do you listen to God

changing  the seasons

stringing the stars

holding up the firmament

dressing the trees

birthing in the midst of

burying mighty eternal

watching weighing measuring

do you listen to the holder

of scales the owner of darkness

the provider of light

the alpha the omega

the beginning

circling the end

do you listen?


image: serenamorelli from Ticky. Ticky. Boom!

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beyond capacity (NPM2017 9)


there are places

you may never see

out beyond

the end of the known

past the safety nets

where the air thins

the ground is rocky

there is no path

all roads are uphill

where life stretches

you like a rubber band

its in the tension you

find traction to go forward

propelled from god’s hand

seeking destiny

walking fate’s tightrope

eyes on the time when

we cross over the abyss

gaping below like a hungry

thing waiting our failure

there is only one

choice to be made

at the end of capacity

the choice is go forward

go forward past the boundaries

the walls over the pits

the places where the bricks

are missing the cracks in

the sidewalk the shortfalls

the not enough the not

for you not now not ever

bend to the wind and

go forward push the

edge back dance on it

become the one who

draws the line

ignore the line

go where the tightrope



the rope

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crazy((NPM2017 # 8)


some days you can see  crazy

sitting cross the room grinning

legs crossed nails polished

bare assed naked

crazy light shining from its

good eye yeah you can smell

the metallic burned copper

smell of it running in blood

dancing naked on the road

lurking in the corner

of your mind waiting still naked

still naked

as it runs through your

family it knows your name

might come for you

you can see it some days

some days

when it’s not wrapped round

you so tight it pulls

you under the line

to watch

it makes piles of

things you can’t see most times

things in the middle of the room

piled up covering windows

sometimes you inhale deeply

shaking it off momentarily

you can see it


in those moments you stretch

take up all the room

realizing you have been

crouching in a corner you stand

stretching out your arms extending

your fingers you pluck at its web

pull it down and trample it

if you are quick enough

you may open a space

for sanity to awaken

save you

from the blue tide

the red funk

the bright orange reality

the white bright abyss

the need for midnight

blue velvet to pull around

you like a curtain hiding

crazy piling things in the corner

invisible  & everywhere

everywhere & invisible

running through

your family

snickering at you from a


skipping ’round naked



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brick house sunrise


open the curtains

in the brick house

let the light spill in

peeling back the dark

illuminating broken things

scattered like litter on the side of

life the broken dolls

games that glitch

the only for this side of town

bag of mismatched chances a

keyboard with  missing keys

a greasy box of half

sentences missing verbs

near a pile of half-lives

lived in shadows waiting for something

that may never come straining to hear

music that may never be played

knowing things are missing

but not able to name them

empty hands reaching

restless after stagnation

pressed down and unstable

dawn breaks

sun rises

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first language (NPM2017 # 7)


one dreams in first language

it is the language of prayer

first language is where your

soul lives

where home is

when it’s raining

fire it’s where we land

after falling through

the ground we grow from

the cathedral that holds

the narrative of being

the song sung by the

world to you in the womb

there will always be things

that can only be said in

first language

like how deep the cut

how far the fall

how high dreams float above

rude reality sometimes

only a paint can can own

the truth

maybe you can find it in a pastel

drug across smooth black paper

extract it with ink from

well balanced pens

scribbled in the margins of


some forge it in

bronze or cast in it iron so

it reaches for the sky

or cover the side of a building

that covered the sun

after eating the trees

or sing it over a beat

older than the need to sing

or spit it to a crowd

over a new beat

you got to learn to dance to

maybe syncopate it drop it on

the one make

them want to see the

instrument cause theirs don’t make that

sound dance it elegantly stretching it

over centuries of pain

bending like trees

after being hit by waves

speak the language

god spoke to you in before

you were formed

prayerfully in all of you

like blessing

like reason

like answers to the question

why we will find you

in your first language bent

before its altar making sacrifice

living the religion of it

living in its sublimity

seeing the world through it

first language is

the language

we were

dreamed in the language

of our light

our redemption


the way we talk

to god




image: street art by Banksy


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xodus: the requiem #1 ballad of struggle seed

The Piano Lesson.

by eesuu orundide for the lowerbottomplayaz.com

struggle seed

plays through the narrative

like pain oozing from piano keyz

underwater bluz

the weight of destiny

born eyes


privileged to see

I never close my eyes

ancestors talk to me

even if I wanted sleep

its test after test for me

long way to victory

still standing

they keep reminding me

even if I wanted to

I can’t help hear the music

they calling me

this ain’t the time to sleep

miles to go promises unkept

somebody got to keep

they say stick to it

they say it’s not the destination

they are very clear

it’s the way I walk

the way I move my hands

as I stand upright going forward

living my prayers creating what

I need the humble struggle seed

standing before the altar

still bleeding need

echoes of dogs barking at my heels

wolves at the wheel

things spoke about revealed

separating the chaff from the wheat

we got to know the real

prayer is better than sleep

on a battlefield you learn  to dance

you got to pray on your feet

keep moving

still North Star bound

an ocean rolling through the underground

the legend moves

so must I to eat

purpose on my breath refuse

to be a refugee the musics playing

I hope you can hear

I hope you are dancing

storm is coming tune the drums

here it come here it come

didn’t drown last time

here come another one

tune the drums

tune the drums

I hope that you

have learned to dance

do you hear the music

piano keyz

chain gang bluz

a walking tune

are you dancing



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triggers (NPM2017 # 6)

ayo circa mid 2000.jpg

i am from the school of

small axes

of the days

when the most violent

write the letter of the law

the law often a faithless mistress

combines to chalk line my boundaries

forgetting who pushed who first

or legitimizing it

complicit in the minefield of my life

enabling the infamous

wearing black robes

white robes

sometimes in  scarlet robes

over brooks brothers suits

all the same in their effect

to stones the builder rejects

tethered in halls of injustice

after being dimissed

after pouring growing planting

the foundation

of the crooked house

outside which i sit

fully loaded

rife with triggers

explosive in the conjured myth

informed by action word deed

and the reality of living in the land

of the lawless triggered by reckless lips

using english like a club

toxic ink on cotton

with jim crow’s shadow reinventing itself

in the dust of my steps

i got triggers

if i ain’t got nothing else

side eye shade interpreted with acuity

fluent in non verbals


and lapses in consciousness

and yes you meant that

don’t take it back

because you realize

the safety is off

bare reality ain’t got filters

i got triggers

can smell the call

will answer it

give you your nightmare without hesitation

i have risen not forgotten

we can get low

i know the steps

wrote some of the songs

you sure you want to sing along

i got triggers

will pull belive that

send you to meet your maker

before i let you send me to mine

i am a retired slave

been done been unruly

was never suited for oppression

so i stood up

don’t try to ride my back

i got triggers

you try to put me on my knees

you find out i squeeze

blow you back to where you came from

have you scratching your life

with your good hand

trying to figure out what comes next

i got triggers

i decipher intention in deed word and text

on the look-out for nappy nets

easily vexed

don’t test

i got triggers

lions and gerillas


riding in the storm

fully loaded

come for me

i answer the door

if you didn’t want

war what you pull up for

reciprocity is a religion

catch me wrong

i serve what i am given

i got triggers




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out of body (NPM2017 # 5)


my body

my black girl body

has never been mine

stands in need of reclamation

is a site of oppression

a battlefield

to be conquered





made a chariture

masking your desire

to consume the very

vessel that surrounds my divinity

my body

has borne




your scorn

as you prodded probed paraded it


breaking it into broken

killing it to dead

crucified it in trees

strange fruit indeed

eating me with appropriation

murdering the thought

and reality of me

my body



producer of profit



injected into lips and hips

riding waves of

invisibility worn

like skin

my body has never

been my resting place

transient in existence

not here

can’t be

sequestered behind the veil

waiting for manumission

my body

a universe

a miracle

of patience

a pinnacle of persistence

a concise canvas

charting your aggression

my body

has signed its own

freedom papers

stole away

followed the moss on

the tree

caught the freedom train

crossed over

under the north star

i am not nasty

i am divine

my body

is mine

my black girl divine

majick is mine

my body

my vessel

my body


when i pass

bow and beware

the stars

falling from my


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black and white (NPM2017 # 4)


imagine me as i am

fiercely beautiful

a black and white

negative growing in

the shade of contempt

like a desert rose

fragrant in the funk of it

unbowed refusing to be

broken being everything

else and then some more

because tallness is required here

i got wings

flying over the pits snares traps sticky shit

don’t stick i write me clearly black lines

on a white page a force

you can’t never did never will own

beautifully unruly

a poor subject for oppression

you prayed to me

as you preyed on me


i will out live it

i will outlive you

fed by dreams of slaves

you did not free

i will live

in the leanest prayer of tomorrow

fed well on determination

i am

the alpha hailing omega

a breathtaking contradiction

only going forward

connected to the ocean

like it birthed me

it did

whispers to me tales

of glory shadowed by infamy

Norf Merikan Afrikan

Olukun holds my keys

you can’t touch me

you only know the myth you created of me

imagine me as i am

i burn like fire

you will remember we

crossed paths i am the taste

in your mouth that reminds you

of who you are

where you walked

who you pushed into the darkness

of inhumanity

you don’t define me

you can not

i am a song you can’t sing

a dance you have no steps for

a sublime verse in a language

you don’t speak

imagine me as i am

the black and white of

where we are

understand clearly

the ocean has a memory

the dust has a memory

i have a memory

remember that when

you imagine me

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