Archive | November 2015

Give Thanks of the Clock

TheMagicRealist.com

Let’s talk some real turkey
I ain’t shot down no plane
I appear every year a big symbol of heart
Being thankful the world has not fallen apart
I’m not waxing profane
Although life’s sometimes quirky

As time is a relative stretch of view
Every moment perceived, none a snowflake’s twin
Each day of remembrance tradition holds true
Is a stroke for all folk. There’s no blood that is blue
Again I sigh grateful to look deep within
If more often my outlook would always be new

Time’s a relative who when invited to dine
She savors each morsel of life’s wholesome meal
She won’t leave ‘til she’s full; she ain’t messin’ around
If there’s love to be shared, her good will she’ll expound
I am thankful we made such a holiday wheel
To lay down our thoughts and let feelings align

As this Thanksgiving Day now heads toward a close
I thought I was writing for others than me
Yet deeper within that is never the case
It’s a most selfish process – a way to keep pace
With the times as they swirl like the raging sea
I am thankful that thankfulness readily flows

Candid Candidate

TheMagicRealist.com

With your plan erected
You’re elected
Then you’ll have your way
Smile, now until November
With a stark solution to dark pollution
Harm they do portray
Smile, so that we’ll remember
It’s fun to look at you folks
It’s a circus within a zoo
It’s done! How your language provokes
A chilling déjà vu
Is your sense of feeling
Worth revealing?
Only time will say
Smile, you’re a party member

Daughters of My World

TheMagicRealist.com

The Flower of Nature and God intertwined,
The stem of her peace ‘of the masculine thorned.
The war’s none of savvy against master minds.
It’s one of protrusion’s dysfunctional kinds.
Dear daughter of mine, had we all been forewarned
Would your freedom in safety be better defined?

I know not Islam, yet were I to believe
That kids in their twenties killing others their age
Has something at all to do with you
My faith in religion would unravel anew.
You are sacred, young one – my heart’s silent rampage…
Your heart filled with wonder where grace doth conceive

My religion is cool… My back yard’s somewhat safe
But assault on your pureness of point of view
Sends a hellish cold chill up my spine as well.
Were my own teen distressed, in my heart she doth dwell
And, I’d much rather learn about Islam from you
Than from elders or young men embroiled in chafe.

Flag of France

Power Line Church of the Pigeon’s Perch

TheMagicRealist.com

We are gathered here on this pristine day
With sky of blue above humble ground.
We ain’t here to teach Jack, yet it turns out we do.
We fault Jack’s humanity in this Grand Zoo.
If mankind weren’t around would then balance abound?
Would the Cloud then be lifted from nature’s way?

Turn now in your manuals to chapter four,
First fallopians two, sub-paragraph twelve.
In there you’ll note that you haven’t a clue.
We’d revisit religion if we were you
‘Cause in shallower waters you’re destined to delve
As you fight about God and then try to keep score.

The energy pew yields an overhead view
Of up-righted oddlings who scurry about.
Is one person’s worship another’s to scorn?
We’d say then there’s no sense in being born!
Who are we, though, to confound your deepest doubt?
Just birds of a feather, unfettered and true.

Alighted here, we’re a cooing creation
Not really concerned with your life in our way.
We enjoy the news and the various skews
Of your takes on mistakes as you call them the blues.
And before we adjourn our service today
Our offering to you is a group defecation.

Bazillion Camel Trick Sam

TheMagicRealist.com

When bible writers concede
To twisting meaning for need
To satisfy human greed

How’s this verse sound?

Just what makes that camel’s delight
Take on wings and sing through the night?
His happiness beams so bright right
Through all negative sight

‘Cause he wears clean human clothes
From his neck to his toes
He don’t care if you stare at his wiggly nose

So when you feel self-conscious
Get off you haunches
And do what doesn’t seem fun
Oops, there goes another needle’s eye done
Oops, there goes another needle’s eye done
Oops, there goes another needle’s eye done

It’s hyperbole, folks.
Jesus didn’t tell jokes
Nor did ever he mean

To dis on Green

When a camel wants to live right
He’ll pray before he rests for the night
He’ll never engage in a kite fight
He is seldom uptight

‘Cause he’s got camel insight
Not much spiritual might
He’s a rich camel man
With a will like a knight
So when some preacher claims
My best Teacher shames wealth,
I’ll head for the door

Oops, there goes a needle virgin no more
Oops, there goes a needle virgin no more
Oops, there goes a needle virgin no more

The Roofs That Maurys Build

TheMagicRealist.com

I’ll admit, Massa Povich, I’m caught right off guard
In waiting room hostage, eyes locked on a screen
Such excitement and drama, a pinch of delight
Big Baboonish Behavior Barks the Brightest Stage Light
Your Black Rats in a cage are now everywhere seen
Their lives cast in turmoil; their hearts deeply scarred

What the Hell are you doing, you fucking Bastard?
You married a Bitch whom now no one will trust.
Is she blabbing your secrets to folks who don’t care?
If she shits in your face, then just have an affair.
Leave Black Lives Alone, there are worthier lusts!
But, alas, there’s that financial gain you’ll have mastered

You come off quite well faking love and compassion
While mining for gold in the sewers of strife
But some of us know what you really are
That’ll do it for me. I’m exhausted thus far
Having strayed off course and lost trusting in life
Caught up in backlash is not really my fashion

If through Mother Goose or by Nigger Noose
The roof that you build caps a nation secure
In its image of Black folks as troubled and tainted
Old man, that ain’t me! I’ll make sure you’re acquainted
With Blackness Paternal not about to endure
Just keeping my mouth shut amid your abuse

From a Prince to a pauper – a Knight to a pawn
I’ll tell you for sure that the seed that you sow
Will grow to a dark jungle deep on your mind
The shame of it is you’re not one of a kind
Do thank me, you scum bag, for stooping so low
As to borrow your face to blow my nose on!