Iron drum

the fire that flowers…
the flower that fires
words that flow with power
of love and not ire…
iron lion’s mane
smelted in the flame
purity obtained
defies label and name
call it crown of thorns
from follicles its grown
oil anointed it adorns
the polar cap of a dome
the thorn’s pricking points yielding
to empresses’ weaving
they intertwine yet its freeing
feeling is believing
seeing is receiving
perceiving is reweaving
tapestries to suit
attributes are moot
pointedly I’m mute
till time tempers fullness
and we’re ready to unfold this
rapping that holds gifts
poised for perfection
poisoned correction
abounds when we’re stepsons
in our minds when it comes to the divine
so we refine oh so crudely
our natural resource the new we
in public pens school is now juvee…
ah…
positive… not problem kids…
it starts inside… us solving this…
if we each rise as sovereigns
and emulate divine providence
perchance that’s where our problems end…
for change let’s look inside and lend
our ears, voices, third eyes and hands
instead of marching as if we’re beat
to devilish drummed up plans…
Errol Percival Jr. (Daiikiru Akasha Maximillion)

 

 

 

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