Breaking Rules

rules break
Let’s get outta school/the classes are corrupting us
They are poisoning our foods/their teachings constipating us.
They’re lying in their books/their language suffocating us.
Our heroes already died and they were buried with the truth.
They say we have to wake up by 4:35 to pray
Who says the East is where God stays?
And rice has to be eaten on Sunday
And Sunday isn’t the seventh but the first day.
Religion please don’t listen
Politics has called severally
And society has answered
Now the law is the criminal
This subject is breaking the law.
And the law is ‘subjectifying’ of course
So the widow wears black
The graveyard stays dark
White is the color of supreme that wins
While black is the color of sin
What use is a subject matter?
We sound like the subject is relevant
But go around to pay more attention to the object
Before the subject scatters
Let them feast, look gay and be pampered
I will merry not, look pale and be tempered
Put out my left foot first
Conceal my right and give what my left hand says
Smile at funerals and dance to regret
Call Mr. James by name
Shake my father’s hands
Take my mother by her waist
Dance to public and not just private romances.
I will talk when i feel like it
Laugh at stupidity
Break the habits bit by bit
But still respect humility
This crowd is a respite
This class is a human zoo
Classics were hardly made in classes
Classics only proved that classes
Are better places to tame the animal outside the zoo
So praying in churches is cool
And finding the moon is too
And the law says what the law gives
But some fruits don’t fall unless you shake the tree
The city of the Supreme now the city of the dead
The Church now a graveyard
Praise, prayer are stifled; worship is dead
Communion is sucked from the vineyard
The preacher and the preaching help sin
Not holiness. Peopled hell, not heaven
Ears desperate can’t help but listen.
In this quest, two same figures forgotten add to eleven
The preacher-a professional man
A missing divine institution
No proclaimed verisimilitude; a tongue-stolen clan
A lost divine devotion
Break the proboscis; the flea dies
Kill the preacher to stop redeeming lies
The soul like the building now demolished
For the word of truth we are impoverished
So praying in churches is cool
And finding the moon is too
And the law says what the law gives
But some fruits never fall no matter how hard you shake the tree.- Leon
Smokes didn’t start the fire
it began with a match
there was a hire and a striker,
And one who was the goat killer. Thief
He told us of anarchy and of doom
said he did was the artist behind darkness.
He spoke highly of evening of hue
he told me how he wanted to rape you. Night
She said seeds were made of men
and eggs made out of chicken.
If the sun chose to come out at night
would the place be dark or bright? End
So after today and the rains from Mongolia
we would draw and an ark with a brown rainbow.
If the sun in this painting is a square,
will nature still sit in its chair? Art
I didn’t know the horse was related to a goat
till I both saw them in the fields
their heads were down as they worshiped the sun
who told them to sniff where their dung fell for fun. Animals
When I was young, I would steal biscuits from Mama Chidi
during prayers at night I would confess so I don’t die in my sleep.
If I was ill, my colors became terrible,
Jack the dog wouldn’t eat without me,
so at such times he prayed for me
so I get well and take him to look out for trouble – Rudolph
Diverse conflicting thoughts
My life is on the line for sale.
Never mind,  it’s already been bought.
No cuffs,  no jail , so no bail.
Premeditated like its proposed.
All given up as its supposed.
I remember this happening as Deja Vu in fragments.
Like that kid locked in the hallway basement.
Oh no,  am going off.
What am I saying?
Am over this I shouldn’t be crying.
Same ink,  same book different page.
Same thoughts,  same regrets different age.
It’s all same pain,  ache,  vertigo in  a higher pitch.
Losing my mind,  I’m off drugs but it’s still itchy.
Burning between fire and emotion.
My souls turning grey falling apart.
Where’s the light??
I can’t see through.
Can you be my bright light in this notion of darkness?
My bad,  request can’t be made,  it’s a test.
My mind is clouded with diverse conflicting thoughts.
My life is on the line for sale. Hypermind
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