Games Are For Players and Tricks Are For Kids

As I see it, the world of formulaic practices would have me

Write a thousand lines on pages made of the most luxurious
Antique papyrus with a quill from the virginal bosom of a phoenix
In an ancient hand, maybe sanscrit or something so sacred
It is undecipherable to mere mortals.
Penning you poems and prose that were to chasten your spirit
Against any other suitor, gird you against the war of roses
And song and delicacies from a thousand tribes of lyricists
Whose only intent is to win the favours of the forever immortalized,
Forever inspired, caged bird who art fairer than the very angels
Mirrored in her gaze.

This would be the desires of most who wish the enlightenment of your
Presence and granduer. But away with that.
For such contrivances quickly whither and lose luster.

As for me, give me the bird that sings to be free,
Sings only to me. Only that my ear hear the sweet melodious rapture
Springing forth from velvet lips with full throated whispers
That ride cosmic vibrations, mingling with ethereal effervescence.
Give me the sonnet, slaved and toiled over, written and rewritten
Til every last syllable, nay every last letter, is the reflection of a life’s
Desirious cascade of devote offering, delicately placed as
Perfectly as natures perfect imperfections.
As simple as a grain of sand, as still as the fleck of pollen
Grasping tightly at eyelashes, reflecting the brilliant radiance
From the moons of a thousand galaxies through the vortex of eyes
So bold and wonderous, they themselves had to be inspiration for the God’s.

Not too much to ask for. Better than games better than tricks.
Any man can do this.
But only SHE does it right.


Jah Courtney 2012

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Prophecy And History..Africas Redemption 10/20 by Black Truth Media | Blog Talk Radio

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A Long Walk To Freedom..Feat. Empress Mujahji 09/08 by Black Truth Media | Blog Talk Radio

Apple

Okay apple. I said yes to writing while looking at you and figure now is as good as any to start. Didn’t think that looking at your rosy, glossy complexion would help me to write anything but funny enough, I’m sitting here thinking about the girls; my daughter and hers. Apparently, the dimples in your flesh remind me of their smiling faces. Or even the way the little one goofs up her face just as she’s about to start balling. I do miss them all so very much. Is it possible that beneath your God given beauty, there is a depth of substance that reaches far beyond being just a temporal treat? It seems now that apples will forever remind me of my children. Oh apple, shiny pretty apple, all bright and colourful. Thank you for this moment.

.............................

So it’s been said, Oh Apple, that I’vent looked deeply enough into your lustrous appeal. I could have noted I guess, that the glint on your skin is like that of the glint in the air as the sun finally kisses earth, disappearing beyond ocean waves. You have to be as patient to see that as one should be in getting to your last bite. Or maybe that your anciently designed lean to construction makes me think of the first time I saw her dance for me. She said she was simply stretching and yet the movements were so fluid; the light playfully wrapped around her, caressing curves that I have burned into memory; even the very air held her in place balanced against invisible pillars. It was as intoxicating as your delectable first kiss. I could have mentioned your cute, little foot resting so precariously on my table and the twinkling toes, toes I’ve counted again and again to the delightful glee of my most treasured, whose plump rosy cheek is also the tenderest morsel. You are God’s gift indeed.

If you think Planking is wack...

If you think planking is wack, then you should consider another activity that has an even wider audience.  It's followers are from all backgrounds, and stretch across all age demographics.  And on a side note, it is even cooler when you don't have pictures.  It is called praying.  You should try it.  A minute on your knees can cause a world of good, for you and the world of people.  Besides, nobody ever died from praying.

Show me you so that I might show you me

Standing there amidst

dew drops and

sun showers and childrens

laughter, I saw

you from across

oceans and the heavens

languishing,

staunch as a single

Harlem Rose.

If I were to capture

but an inkling of

the strength

you heave in

each breath

you breathed through

Eve's parted

lips I

would carry your

load and

mine and yours

again

as Atlas if but only

to allow you to

lend your bare hand to my face.

If my lips were

to be as free as

my pen, birds would

recite my love in song

and perfume all the worlds

air with its' fragrance.

It was all I could do

not to

reach out

across the abyss,

the oasis that lay

between us

and draw you to me

and give Samspon his leave.

If only the angels who

carry my heart

in whisper

across this universe

would gain audience with

the stars that dance when you smile,

you would hear the

whole

true

story.






My two cents

Jah Courtney

Jamdown

As sleep retreats and
the cloud of haze that
perfumed the heavy night
air pulls at the last traces of
consciousness,
As I step onto soil
that broke my grandfathers’ backs
and bore their seed,
Waiting for the chance to
wash my covenant
in the waters that
gave courage to their flesh
and nutriment
to their root,
As I sip on the harp sound
that gave wings to their visions
and flight to their prayers,
I kneel and
return her love.


My two cents

Jah Courtney