starrfly's blog: "star embers"

How many times will dimes define friendships of mine, It sounds funny but it ain't about money with me, You see I perceive to achieve more than the frailty of materialism in society, Intergalactic seed, pragmatically freed by insensitive deeds, Disenfranchised by what so-called friends idolized, Castaway souls sway in conscious disarray, Ashen automatons of clay, They lay in limbo all their days coveting lifeless goals, Hold onto the cold, content to grow old in their droll matrix cookie-cutter roles. I don't need a car, 20 talents in a jar to determine how far I go when my fate is in the stars. Keep looking down on me, you say I'm bound to be, A nameless mound in a cemetery. Hey it's all right, I don't need to cuss or fight, Please children of the green disease have a good night. You just might yet regret the actions you have set into motion, Can't figure out the quotient that is churning inside of me, I don't hate you, the fate you create is one I do not hurry or abate. Every faction learns their actions hasten a retraction, a steady course to the source that normally ends in dumbfounded remorse. Your well-camouflaged depravity cannot penetrate the gravity of conscious cosmic stuff that has had enough. I am emotion, devotion, pain, strain, not harboring disdain but singing outwardly a harmonious refrain. While your mojo wanes my energy gains and continually remains. Please feel no need to abstain from what has worked, I know it has come with perks, Don't shirk old habits they got you here. And they have brought me so near to being without fear and to be able to see more clear the taunting silent leer you carry. Despite your blindness I will kill with kindness.

Hid amid the insipid and decrepit corners of cities where those who some would normally pity lies earth born stars. Somewhere in institutions brought there by life or death solutions trees are asphyxiated by unnatural pollution. Down where confusion has often plummeted into destitution I hear the rumblings of revolution. Colossal billboards of wealthy idealistic whores symbolize the closed doors to many of our brother and sisters. Just outside where calloused hands and blistered feet bleed to eat and famine separate the dead from the weak there is a hopeful leak. A tiny voice has made the choice to speak, despite an outlook many would call bleak. In a classroom where the popular kids throw shadows of gloom trying to mark an early tomb for the odd ones who think roses rise above the cess pole of stink. Some how that chubby nigger has a soul a little bigger than the barrel pointing at him from indoctrination's trigger. I breathe, perceive, weave without the need to deceive and somehow achieve another day to be alive. I envision my multiple ends ignore these fools' trends. They huff and puff I sway as long is the day and yes I bend. All of these things affect me, I cannot pretend, it would be easy to descend into the abyss of bliss the cold kiss a razor nearly brought to me 5 years ago. But I have not finished growing amidst harsh winds of change blowing knowing that somewhere in the harshest climates the debate of fates does not wait. Some one like me is crawling, scratching, sprawling, dispatching yes I care to dare say snatching victory from the salivating jaws of defeat. Substance grows from the leftovers and crumbs, what people some times call scum in the fields rich people call slums. Yes the mother fuckers, the ones the in-crowd hates no longer feel the need to wait as fear quickly dissipates while we boldly kick open those locked doors to say "Here we are, no longer to be ignored!"