No eyes to the man

5Hands

The street lights are shattered
and the lights don’t turn on
and the sun never comes
to the earth at the dawn
where the sisters and brothers
walk along hand in hand
in the dark of the shadows
and no eyes to the man

It’s a place just as empty
of the hate and the scorn
as the Kentucky coal mines
without any plans
you can sing welcome home
to every baby that’s born
with no black and no white
and no blood on their hands

And no daddies or mommies
to give what they got
and all brothers and sisters
can walk hand in hand
without all the colors
that daddy was taught
at the school in the fear
of the Panthers and the Klan

It’s a world where the brothers
help the sisters feel strong 

where the sun never comes
through the windows at dawn

where the street lights are shattered
and the eyes never see
all the kids can hold hands
as they walk down the streets
 ©

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And It Goes

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just because I never complain
don’t mean I ain’t
been hit by the train
and if you ever did see me
so thoughtful for long
don’t believe I ain’t said
I was right when I’s wrong

mr tell me becomes
of a man without sin
never tried just to lose
never died for his friends

still you look at my smile
and profile such a scene
ain’t no man with no worry
thumbin’ rides through a dream

just because in my troubles
my face never shows
to the Lord on that train
my hurt waves
and it goes©

Now I lay me down to sleep

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Now I lay me
down to sleep
I love you God
my love runs deep
but if I go before I wake
I’m scared from
all the good I take

inside the day
when I get rest
ashamed I didn’t
do my best
so bitter cold
inside I’m warm
while others die
beyond my door

It bothers me
I pay my rent
from working hard
I’m not content
so many times
while drinking beers
alone inside
I’m cryin’ tears

I need you now
this hurt it grows
to ease my sadness
find my roads

I have your heart
but lack true wealth
that comes through
feeding someone else ©

चित्रकारको- The Artist

-Questlove ©2014 Artist : Edward McMillan

-Questlove ©2014
Artist : Edward McMillan

To be an artist. To create an audible or visual mark upon this world that expresses who we are. Art is sacred because it proves the existence of a God given soul. It signifies the dark roads or lost highways we’ve walked. Every voice behind a microphone and each time an artist picks up a brush , the silent hallways and empty canvases come alive with poetry that flows straight from the artist’s soul. It tells us how they feel and who they are. All that is needed is a starting point. With that, they leave their mark on this world forever. Without that starting point, the many songs of yesterday, the Mona Lisa would only exist within the souls of mortal men. Men with names easily forgotten by the hands of time. A man becomes an artist when his soul meets his canvass. Much like art, who we are to this world is a mixture of two components: what we have and what we do with it. 

Dear Jesus,
I ask that you shelter me from blindness
bless me with continual vision
let me know my own reflection
as a work of your art
please guide my actions in a way
that allows me to be your perpetual mark
In me, let the lost find proof of your work

upon this canvass of life
let my intentions paint your glory
guide my voice to a song of love
Lord, bless me with the courage
to be an exhibition of your mastery
for I care not if this world forgets my name
so long as I help them to remember yours.

                       Amen ©                                                

 

 

Why me God?

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As I closed the door to my hotel room tonight,  I couldn’t help asking the question “why me God?” I was shaking off the bitter cold night from my leather jacket and crawling into a warm bed. I’ve done nothing in my life that justifies my being warm while so many live homeless outside in the cold. Some of them innocent children, without a choice in the matter. What have I done for any one of them? I wear a cross around my neck. My conscience shines a light that brings tears to my eyes tonight. Yet, I know my tears won’t do a damn thing to help. I feel like the many hypocrites out there, calling themselves Christians. The ones who think prayers alone will call Jesus down to perform his work & give warmth to those shivering in the cold. It makes me feel shame because this cross I wear, it’s only a name tag indicating that I do work here. Gods work isn’t done by hands that fold together in prayer alone. Hands must be used to reach out & do the work that needs to be done. Someone’s prayers went unanswered tonight because I didn’t use my hands to carry donations of blankets or clothes to a place where they could find them. No wonder so many lose faith in God. I’d like to find redemption by never forgetting the shame I feel inside my heart tonight.

                                                                                                                            1Love!

के म चाहन्छु (I want to)

 

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Wanna live asymmetrical lines
and have kind and beautiful eyes
feel the rain on my head
where my soul could be cleansed
of my sin by His son without dyin’

wanna be luminesce in the dark
purify within music and art  
 
painting pictures around me
of love that surrounds me
refracting my truth from the
heart

wanna be what a blind man can see
wanna cry from this life that I lead
wanna steal from the worth
of the rich as they work
every downtrodden hand till it bleeds

wanna stop living life like a race
where the win compromises my faith
and the love growing dim
from the hurt and the sin
has control alt delete and erase

wanna sleep in a bed not alone
wanna save all the good that I own
without folded up secrets
in pockets of friends 
wanna reach for the sky til I’m grown ©

“He Needs Jesus bra”

By a look at his face outta place
like a windmill in a storm
frozen un turning
steering wheel took a straight
but un narrow not learning
t
he yearning & crying
I can see his forlorn
taste a hurt from the eyes
that’s watched babies be born

and you say” he needs Jesus”
I
agree that its true
b
ut I wont let you play yourself
he needed me and you

Does time heal our heartaches
do sutures get sewn
are deep cuts & abrasions
healed by walking alone?

Far from home he’s been crawling
right in front of your stare
do you think had you answered
he would know Jesus cared?

So you tell me don’t bother
that it’s not worth the time
if yours is so valued
mines not worth a dime

Compared to a brother
who needs me
you know?

Audience keeps the change
when his life is their show ©