Friday, June 27, 2014

Dust


Before the ways of the pretentious 
Became the way of the shaman 
The belief in thyself was looked down upon 
Like the confession of a killer 
In the eyes of a hero 

The pedestal is made of gravel 
That falls from beneath the gates of heaven 
To furnish the devil's playground 
Like meteors in their own right 

The pebbles turn to sand 
And find solace boxed in 
By the wood of those who have drifted


©2014 Anthony Desmond Scott. All Rights Reserved.
for Open Link Night @ d'Verse Poets

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Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Contradictions (Die for It)





You call me a visionary but I'm just a martyr for truth (*my truth)
You tell me this the shit that I should breathe for
If that's the case put me on the cross carved
From trees that shadowed the poets' graves and call me the savior
But I would just burn alive because
I ain't sure if I would die for it

I write the sky as I walk the desert sands
X'ing out check points with fingers of the modern man
So they can't throw stones and riddle my
Path with glass or disconnect my chrome
Browser enlighten the internet
While the iron curtain shadows my home
You can't call me a genius because I, “Seek wisdom,
Not knowledge. Knowledge is of the past
And wisdom is of the future” but

You call me a visionary though I'm just a martyr for truth (*my truth)
You tell me this the shit that I should breathe for
If that's the case put me on the cross carved
From trees that shadowed the poets' graves and call me the savior
But I would just burn alive because
I ain't sure if I would die for it

So is this the shit that I live for?
If you have to ask then you don't know me
But if I have to ask myself then I get down on bended knee
And pray to the lord “I hope this isn't a curse for
All those times I spoke of niggas, bitches, hoes
And Jesus in the same poem. PS. I call a woman a woman
And if I didn't then I couldn't bear the thought
Of calling myself a man” but

You call me a visionary though I'm just a martyr for truth (*my truth)
You tell me this the shit that I should breathe for
If that's the case put me on the cross carved
From trees that shadowed the poets' graves and call me the savior
But I would just burn alive because
I ain't sure if I would die for it

Nowadays we measure success
By how many haters are waiting to see us fall
Instead of building each other
But people from this generation beg to differ
So these are just thoughts of a young nigga
Stuck in the past, that's all
But still you call me a visionary
Though I'm just a martyr for truth



©2014 Anthony Desmond Scott. All Rights Reserved.


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Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Foolish Beliefs


I laid swords across the shoreline
To behead lobsters and gave them to the
Voodoo man he said he'd lift the levee's curse
And use oyster beds and salt marshes
As the first line of defense

I felt like a king
Luring all those bottom feeders
With shit and they'd hurry like flies
In a summer junkyard

Of course being the greedy bastard I am
I asked for something in return
To call my own

He said, “I'll give you the special lobster
With diamond eyes.”
I said, “Fuck no—I can't eat such a rarity!
Give me your rings instead.”

He said if he takes off his rings
Like a widower turned whore
He must wait for those who have
Passed to take away his gift of poetry

I said, “You've got nothing to worry
About: he who rubs sand and glitter in the eyes
Of a lobster and passes them off as 'diamond'
Is a poetaster, not a poet.”

©2014 Anthony Desmond Scott. All Rights Reserved.

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