Morning Night Write

Hanging on every word…
Executors and gallows…
Unfilled in blanks…
What’s in the banks?
Rivers of revenue…
Lined pockets
The Nile watches.
Pollution tainted waters lament.
Who hears?
Emptied barrels make the host’s noise.
Passenger seats
riddles on repeat.
Bucks stop short of lamb blooded doors.
Really?
Mother’s suns… Little ones…
Righteous slaughter…
Condoned genocides
The Grand Theft is afoot
No suit Sherlock.
Just a hat for two faces.
Blatant hypocrisy is no mystery.
You shall know them by their works.
You shall know them by their hidden thoughts made manifest.
Your tertiary eye was not given in vain.
Vy not for vile vanity.
Be not a slave to sloth.
Be not goaded by gluttony.
Be not moved to murder.
Be not jabbed by jealousy.
I’ll make what I have above enough.
My divine nature denotes surplus.
Any other validation is superfluous.
Do you work for Mammon or do you work for Us?
Don’t answer we already know?
“Is God a man that he should lie?”
Sigh.
Either way, guaranteed green pastures.
Flood of fire and verdant aftermath…
Heart chakra… dusting off the ash.
Asé.
~ Daiikiru Maximillion™
©Errol Percival Jr. 2021

Memory Lane Library

First love
I can still close my eyes and see the sheen
of the long soft jet black braid
that fades everything else
in that elementary school classroom
out of sight to this day.
You were Afrika, the Americas, and India
within arms reach but yet still so far
from my league… I thought.
Everyone thought you the prettiest girl in school and me the smartest boy.
I hated being labeled a nerd but I loved reading more.
I was an unbalanced shambles
in need of guidance…
more guidance than the ample influx
of ideas and storylines I virtually inhaled
on a daily basis could take the place of.
I learned to pine away in secret.
I learned furtive glances and lookaways.
I learned to hide and make myself small to avoid notice so victimizers wouldn’t see me.
I learned to hide love…
so it wouldn’t be crushed
like so many other dreams.
I want to call it infatuation now
for it never saw fruition.
But I still can feel its purity.
It sits on a shelf in the stacks.
The vast extensive library that feeds my personality is seven times better for it.
Thank you first muse.
Ave Maria Real…
Fletcher of arrows still
for my quiver and quill.
Reminder of my innocence.
Sigh…
I’m smiling big right now.
Blessed love.
Love is life.
Life is the way.
The way is truth.
Truth is the life.
Asé.

~ Daiikiru Maximillion™
©Errol Percival Jr. 2021