What’s in the seed





……..Empty smiles and laughs, attempt to suckle on your conscious like a new born calf, but I extend my staff, bust through the window holding a rope and gun like I was Shaft, blast, I remove my mask, ready to take on life’s tasks, go in my stash, but not to be brash, I wear all black like I was Johnny Cash, sit and read philosophical books for a long time, like I was taking a smash, all the while getting ready to dash; cause life’s a race, with nothing giving chase, but a feeling of being displaced. Is everything I do a waste; It’s hard to do my best for something I’m not sure is mines. What’s in the seed, you can read; the whip marks, bruises, concussions, robbery and identity crisis stifles us, can’t get right with us, it explains our inconsistencies and lack of sight with us.