OPUS Mag

Far from timid • Caveat Lector

Poetry: Culture Killer

Poetry: Culture Killer

Come through like the spirit of Nat Turner burner pointed at the masters head

An' lick two shots for Tupac and Big POP until the masters dead

They put our blood on the leaves and now there's blood on the sheets of the master's bed

I closed my eyes to listen to god and this is what the pastor said

You should pray for your enemies and pass him bread

Don't pass him judgment, turn the other cheek when you get slapped in public

That's corruption because we read the same chapters of it

We were slaves cursed by the same masters of it

The masses love it driven into songs of psalms

Thief on the cross nails through his heels and his palms

Spirit of God greetings of Wa-Alaikum-Salaam 

My spirit is hard never mind my spirit is strong

True to my form

I was born by the river of tears where my Queen wept over my torn flesh

Chastised and broken apart

My heart grew cold; blood warm with torment but I gave you my art

Styles fluent with culture dripping with ice

The price?

Will cost me more but you'll still profit

What you want? My hair my style my dress?

What you want from her? 

Her lips her thighs her ass her breasts?

What does it take for me to compose prose but my mortal soul

Gave you classics

My ingenuity gave you monuments.

What I bleed you breathe those are my accomplishments.

Culture. Killer. 

Late Night

Late Night

Fiction Series: Playing With Fire - Chapter 13

Fiction Series: Playing With Fire - Chapter 13