RMC

I will not talk shit
like an all knowing man
credence is given
to the ones who stand.

Action in reaction
is only a fraction made
by those who respond
to a beat a tune they fade.

Think deep a rattle
a tune I will relax trapped
in my inner demons battle
until I collapse.

The meaning to the hard
men who pen for all to see
seize a feed relieved conceived
between a seed a different breed.

Saxophones elevate a fate
that we debate and create
a world absurd in the words
we find inside us we try to debate.

At our core more sores
and closed tight doors burn a bridge
a ridge a tune of music core
of the shit you fit burned again you sin.

Does God want me upon
the face of disgrace we face
every day we wake at dawn
we ask will we be a disgrace?

Death is shroud a cloud abound
by the seething breathing
I am trying to believe him,
God I’m a clown but I’m seeing.

Joker I’m a choker in moments
I’m put on display my face
points inward I sin atonement
I need to wash my disgrace.

I can see it be it and fall shit
is always my favorite season it
seasons reason for a flavor I savor
is a taste of validation that fits.