Divinity Pt. 1

Do you swear to tell the truth?
The whole whole truth,
nothing but the truth, so help you God?
I do.
I’ve watched liars place right hands on bibles,
speaking fraudulent truths to the masses,
while revolutionaries pour life onto deaf ears
Revealing light to the blind.

You see anyone can be awakened,
but no amount of truth or noise
will awaken someone pretending to be sleep.
I shed these poems like reckless bullets shed blood onto Oakland streets,
arrested mentally.

So strip me,
strip me of my impurities down to my core.
Tell my third eye to speak;
cleanse my womb for it’s been defiled.
Blessings and curses flow from our mouths like rivers.
My words create streams
of life or death.
So hold my tongue until its only haste is to speak truth.

Cuz’ now days the truth is getting punked;
liars rising boulder beyond measures,
contingent upon closet skeletons,
saturated in darkness.
Flick a light switch,
so the truth can shine bright.

This poem is for young girls birthed of tomb wombs,
convinced that they are nothing more
than black drops,
left to water seeds for a harvest that will never grow.

You see, I was held by my mother’s crack pipe tears;
held in my fathers fears
and although she left way before may,
never to see my flowers bloom in June,
I was held by the spirit of Oshun.

You see, new seeds begin with me,
because pressure burst pipes or what diamonds are made of.