Baba Ganja,
Help me weather the storms of Babylon,
I smell the Earth rotting.
BlueDichotomy
 10900 
|
|||||||||||||||||||||
you need to login or register to leave a comment
Bob Marley
CATEGORY
life
Views: 256
You must be registered to leave a comment. Registration is FREE.
COMMENTS
LP45 says: Nice. |
|||
love_supreme says: Da*n, this is hard core |
|||
|
mlowe5 says: There is a Natural Mystic in the air, Blue Dichotomy. Smell faith, hope and peace. Keep On Moving and know that the Sun Is Shinning. Time Will Tell. Peace and Love, mlowe5. |
||
|
|
The Immortal Wize says: 🔥 |
||
|
|
Coalhouse says: Dope |
||
lasi_gi says: Nice piece Blue Dichotomy. There are lots of good deeds taking place around us and we must carry on in the face of adversity. Thank you for sharing. Peace and love. |
OTHER POEMS WRITTEN BY BlueDichotomy
Bob MarleyBaba Ganja, Help me weather the storms of Babylon, I smell the Earth rotting.
 |
Lover of WordsI’ll admit, I search out words that’re eloquently placed together, Sentences that make my heart swoon, When the Sun goes down..
|
Ka& know that if I've ever made my body available for you, I'd recognized your God Spirit, Directly... |
Blue MoonBlack heart, why do you pound on the chambers of my chest amidst the wild hour? Is it the hour of purity? stillness? Oh, This time is specifically for the Lovers. Now, to interpret the term "lovers" as a mere infatuation of physicality & biochemistry would be a misconception. No, The Lovers. The Alpha wolves. The metaphysical constructs chiseled from 6proton, 6electron, 6neutron, sprinkled in Stardust. Dipped in Chocolate. The Lovers. The introverts, who make love with meticulous stokes of finger tips. Whose brown eyes recite beautiful poetry. The travelers of authentic consciousness. The Lovers. The time is Kairos. |
Sinner's PurificationLay me in the depths of the refiner' s fire, for then will I be made pure. Bathe me in honeysuckle and white lilacs, allowing my gold melanin to spring forth with your glory, Endow me with pleasant perfumes and fragrant oils, so that I may be a sweet savour in your nostrils... |
Right ThereIgnite my fire, for my true essence burns fiercely from within, For only then, will I lay bare my insecurities in complete submission before you. Pluck away at my womb strings, do it gently. Have me, and have me once more... |
Dear SirFlattery is merely the art of deception with finesse, I am no longer appeased. |
The Wild Hour11:14. Around this time, she whispers ever so soft and delicately in my ear, my countless flaws and idiosyncrasies. So, tell me I'm beautiful. My many imperfections & constant rejections from He. Now ladies, we all have that one He. That one He; Fellas that one She, that holds key to heart, mind, & sets soul captives free? Yes, she continuously reminds me of my circumstance. The perceived plight of the Afrikan American womb-man. So, tell me I'm beautiful. Pray I rest well in the wild hour... |