The story of the forgotten (Abstract); a sale for the deceased

The forgotten were not poets,
they didn’t write well, they rhyme days and nights like under spells,

Free styling miles in shoes to tell those who,
have corporate garbage hooked up to their brain,
sound waves from cell phones swell and strain,
like cement block suspended from ear bones and cartilage,
Speaking their mind in the street or on the college campus,

Hitting hidden parks by the library to canvas a flow,
like Jackson Pollock or Michelangelo,

Spread thin or structured, the punctured vein in the Junkies arm,
starting with the underground well pool of water on farms,

They weren’t poets,
just one of Mother Nature’s authors of charm in the sky,
manifesting enterprise, for the test shows on lies,
on your entertainment feed …

The mind grows exponentially,

Be Infinitely Just And Natural sequentially,
Fuck the fee, rob and steal happiness for free, epiphany on the point,

 Their preferred drugs were creativity, the curves of a woman, and a joint

Delivering on wreck shops, of hip hop in parking lots, Pick pocketing wireless crops,

Never the pops but the son,
Naive and telling you life has just begun,
the battle’s having not been won
from the ongoing war, Of the U.S. military expansion,
on a handsome sum in a defense contractors award of ransom.

In this Fallacy of the land,
the machine gun man, Stops in a stand
for a bite to eat of Fast food made out of sand and defeat,
as the blood starts to drip off hands and feet,

The brand of the label was the obligation dealt necessary to keep,
economically manipulated deep,
Abstract died in the seat,
as the door opened,
falling to the floor of the concrete choking,

In the manufactured jungle;
many came close to death or loss of soul,
as they stumble around the hole,

Before they died
desire was made a mold,
Sparking fire to the empire’s rocket,
to hold geo politics in the back pocket;
in the front, eye sockets stupefied for months,

Never having seen independence,
lumping up modern day semantics in a sentence was the apprenticeship,

R.I.P.
to the defendants and oppressed,
who never had a  self sufficient bless
except in the life of stress,

The best live but unheard,
who kicked jives about past lives on the curb?
With the bond of word,

This is the story of the many forgotten,
nameless and many grave less,
for the rich man’s appetite,
or the religious figure preaching exclusive right,

You might see him or her on any night,
talking about the fight,
with the might in their hand to contribute,
this is for their honorary debut degree,
Submitted by me,

One in a countless mountain
reads over pouring fountains,
the infinite statistics are mounting,

That knowledge is your scale,
who’s counting when you fail?
Cosmos stars get stale; let’s go make a sale,

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