My God; I write this poem unto you, let it be filled with mercy and truth. Justice; Israel it's just us plus Babylon is on the rise, wicked~vibration; sky's, lies. God sometimes my soul cries; anticipation, flesh lies. Casket; drifting, Nile: basket. Judahs kiss.
Ancient Egypt tribes from Kemit, have me feeling relentless with scribes transcribed in the books of Corinth. Step out side and I still feel pent: claustrophobic, mercy and love, soul like hold this.
Gifts fit for a young king, live life to the fullest; abundantly. Golden circles surrounds me, the wicked creeps like turtles, I'm dipping on the game; hurdles.
The yodaler yodals; any form of disrespect is totally bogus but you should already know this.
Bliss; thinking about you king of kings; my flesh trips to zone six and back; what is lack? The fact that some forgotten it takes the disciple of a sho gun.
Thank you to the One who brought me from the slums; away from the pimps with guns trap houses: low funds, will have you thinking about getting money with guns, but not me in my mind I have a money tree that pays me. And it's all because of thee; the trinity.
My God: I wrote this poem unto you, let it be filled with mercy and truth; Amen.
Blackhemmingway~2014©
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