Adeshina I.M. Lawal's Blog

It just goes to show how human humans are.

They believe Hollywood can save lives

They cry when they feel hurt.

They blurt out the first hurtful thing that comes into mind.

They beat each other in attempts to recover from personal pain.

It just goes to show how human humans are.

They get in cars that kill the planet.

They set fires with purpose to hurt each other.

They make nuclear power work to rape the system harder longer.

Aren’t the others stronger than that?

Uncover the nature of man and the unsightly image will be encrusted in diamonds.

I’m interested in shelling a somewhat different plan.

Can spirituality be the opportunity for evolution?

Or does it always follow that no matter how you shell it, it will almost always show how human humans are.

I’m a consistent Offender.

Something like a pretender in sheep’s clothing.

While regaining my composure I came to harsh conclusions, although some call them delusions.

You see, capitalism is an illusion much like safety.

Both are rooted in false impressions that men are inherently good.

I seek to offend and upend that status quo consistently- disrespectfully- until we grow from my violations. 

Empathy guides me to lean on the philosophy of socialism.

Her system seems to me to be reality’s rational next step.

Getting ahead of the eight ball I seek to stand tall on faith and understanding.

I recognize that socialism sounds like a Plan B pill but chill and assess the situation.

Stand still and recognize the values of comradery and property.

In society we know working together makes the best results.

It is not occult to see a brighter future born from the death of a spiritual dark age.

New inquiring eyes open their minds to old ways of thought through the lens of curiosity, and invoking questions born from new methodology and technology.

Backed by full faith in power and not debt by credit our society can ultimately be corrected.

With a pen and in action I am a constant offender to disrupting false pillars of society; won’t you join me?

364*:

364 days ago I had ten pages written.

I’d probably be getting ready to do some construction.

With my jaw unbroken I struck a chord with free speech.

I continued to preach the gospel of socialism, even through the wire.

364 days ago I had more fake friends around than I had money, now I pretty much have neither, but the latter is my primary focus for the time being.  

Truly I continue to seek elevation, take that as you wish.

By keeping my eyes on the ground I put my focus on futures.

I heard many lies shrouded in misery and false prophecy from the Vatican.

Interestingly enough I wished to be the light that pierced their darkness veil.

364 days ago I was involved in false love entanglement, almost to my detriment.

True be told I was bold enough to grab the tiger by the tail.

I felt that I could love her through her self hate.

I once had a date with hate, but I went ahead and stood her up. 

Self love became much better than false hope in a lost cause.

364 days ago I knew I had ambition.

Today that position remains the same.

The name of the game was success, and still is.

Next year makes a new era yet tomorrow will make a new year; blessed be to the one who has ears and can hear, for fear can be understood a way.

A lot can change in 366 days

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Pretzels

Twisted like a pretzel I sip from twisted tea

Empowered by raspberry pi I’m beginning to see why fire is written throughout my timeline

At times I feel lost in this biblical fable unsure whether I’m I Cain or I am Able

To accept my truth which is to become naked to trust in my lustful nature 

I am stabilized by life’s tall tale spinning  spells that write better futures.

But is it so that souls are jailed

Curtailed to age old plight

Take light to the enemy

Yes set fire to hatred’s might

Take the fight born from able

Bring foes to the table 

And pray that they’re able

Provide us with more twist tea.

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They said they couldn’t hear the darker brother.
True, we came from different mothers but we share the similar ancestors.
My clan has paid, both in blood and gold truth be told.
Some were sold and some stayed back but I find myself on a new future’s map.
They said all I could do was sling drugs, rap, and play my position other than that of quarterback.
I simply couldn’t honor that.
I refused to cap my intellect.
It cost too much.
I don’t see myself going Dutch with the one percent.
They tried to silence me but I broke through poetically.
My time is now spent coming up with different strategies to pay the rent.
I know I needed to vent, my brothers and I stood tall through the weight of it all.
We can all recall those ancestors who paid their price for our education, while paying it forward with respect by raising the bar.
Speak in confidence, but move in silence.
Wise men know that some codes need revision.
Envision a world where police show up and protect the hood.
Stop bowing down to their paper effigies while pawning the gold mines of your heritage.
In God We Trust… Till the power bill comes and you feel like Craig from Friday.
Damn my people need to get paid,or change the way our community operates- perhaps both pave a way to a more peaceful day.

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The Vine that struggles always produces the best wine.
Those who drink from the divine vine’s toil are unaware of his process, but enjoy his fruit nonetheless.
Entwined in Earth and Sun the struggling vine dug its roots deep guaranteeing to draw in the fullness of Earth’s rich nutrients.
DeGenerate insects do nature’s bidding, but the vine that struggled…
This vine was relentless against the harshness that stood against its successes presented through time.
Tested by the brutal nature of the Earth, the vine’s leaves continued to reach for the light, while his roots proceeded to breach through hallowed dirt’s darkness.
This vine was unaware of the times, but instinctively knew when to produce his fruits, and at the right meter.
All the vine required was enough firmament to give his roots the room to vent.
Intent on carrying out his purpose the vine that struggled endeavored for water to bring his first fruit to fruition.
Having received the right sustainability, the vine that struggled quickly became the jewel of the vineyard.
Through winter the vine’s roots did their due diligence while his leaves made their supplication to the Sun.
Once the proper season arrived the vine recognized the moment to separate from his first fruits in preparation for the next harvest to come.
One can only hope to live a life like the vine who struggled, for they too will become the crest of the vinery.
From an original vine’s toil new sons will spring forth spreading the true vine’s bloodline wherever hallowed dirt resides.

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Our infrastructure is so fucked up, we got backed up and now we look jacked up.
Highway systems looking crazy, our construction workers appear lazy.
Politicians rob us and they say repay, we need to replay the minutes and buy our country back.
President B lately saying building back is better, but with who’s damn cheddar.
To make the world better we need to get our infrastructure top of the class.
Dwight D Eisenhower, backed by military power, laid concrete to assist our superpower.
We need to repeat and get to laying new pipe continuing to climb the tower of enlightenment.
Our water systems are pumping nonsense yet they expect you to pay rent.
Let me vent, who spent tax payer money and who threw threw in.
Tipping the scales to a fair tax would make the super rich pay their weight in gold.
Social security got drained while they evade taxes in different brackets.
Investing in infrastructure can produce eagles who soar high, but they lied.
They threw in less while they got blessed, placing too much stress on the working class.
Now they forecast inflation placing blame to last and bless the first.
I choose to keep ten toes down in the dirt while we work on the future’s turf.
They can’t keep the working class blinded too much longer.
We grow stronger while we sponsor a new monster.

If you enjoyed this poem check out my book Millennial Philosophy Thoughts Expanded. It’s available now on Amazon Good Family [image error][image error]

We breathe oxygen through protection.
We’re not too sure who stole the election.
We give more to life than one percent.
We pay our taxes while we pay their rent.
We triggered the all mighty Crypro Mint.
Who says boomers get all the credit?
I’m not one of the guys who ran it on Reddit.
As a pragmatic I walk with the working class.
Alas Atlas has decided to change careers.
It appears they’re hiring to hold the world up.
Truth be told I’m one of the bold ones.
With my jaws wired shut I advocated free speech.
My kin preaches to this dark era to shine light on abuses.
Our mentality strengthened through logic’s classics.
With our lights combined illuminate the masses.

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Here’s to my twin flame, and yet I don’t know her name.

Her passions are my passions; her every desire sparks my fire; my third eye equiviqual her lighter.

The flow of her explosive aquifer proved more than enough to engorge my shining member.

Her sweat leaks love potion lighter fluid overdosed with  the sweetest of ethers.

I intend to treat her like the daughter of a preacher yet I want to help her spread the fire that is our immortal flame.

Using our bodies as kindle and our desires as lighter fluid we free our souls to float much higher than spiritual fireflies.

Our bodies melting away allowing our souls reach ascension by way of coming to one attention.

Back in comprehension I seek the opportunity to also make love to our kaleidoscope body and mind.

In a cabin while it’s snowing outside I’ll be massaging your intellect in due time.

We could split a bottle of wine, roll blunts, and slightly ignite our mental psykes.

Let’s allow our imaginations run hot with enlightened mints.

Our sex caught on overdrive, red lining our collective consciousness all night under ruby light.

It seems right to let our passions ignites lightning sparks into the moonlight.

The tropic storm that is our love made evidently clear by the steamy evidence of our lustful position decisions. 

Why does our tidal lock mock Mars and Venus rocking their interstellar love affair before the third rock that is the Earth?

To the stars we cast our cares while we share inspirations from the dawn of our creation. 

The sounds of our fire’s ovation have disturbed the notion of a once silent night.

To my twin flame who’s name, for now, remains unknown I tip my hat to you. 

If you enjoyed this poem check out my book Millennial Philosophy available now on Amazon Good Family [image error][image error]

Alas by midnight moonlight I sit contemplating my dual reality.
Inherently, I see conflict existing between morality and animality which is why capitalism and humanity cannot seem to agree.
A silence sets in, filling the room’s emptiness with an eerie sense of self belonging.
Longing for the truth in the matter I listen within only to hear what I thought was a monster speaking back.
It saw things in black and white while I tried to promote a fleeting argument for the shades of grey.
Okay, I saw myself in error with the ever present echo piercing the silence in the room.
You see, I seem to keep falling over human nature.
They save the poor to feed to the rich I can’t ditch my humanity in exchange for great credit.
I dreaded the echo’s response as I was sure the source supported the monster’s choice.
I hear my confessions of desire mixed with an iire of the shameless ideologies born from ignorance.
I know to some it makes sense to raise profit margins for idol eyes but as to my prize, I seek the essence of immortalizing my family line.
By intelligent design that which ties us to this plane connects us to the next. People once praised Ah Puch and Anubis.
In context their societies lived in a reality where their Universe chose to speak back.
Someone today would see their high priests as deranged maniacs if they were brought back and judged by our standard.
I feel like the stars both spoke and embraced their language knowing their sweet echo still remained.
They sang to the future while staying present in the past.
At last I am beginning to hear that which the Universe locked away for this specific moment.
I hear not so much a sound but a wave, much like a frequency, unique to me but could it be?
It would seem to be controlling energy is usually born in solitude and stands at the center of solidarity.
Perhaps immortality and immorality are like distant cousins of the same universal source.
The stars know the truth and echo to persons able to pick up their notes.
Their celestial voice remains harmonious hope continuing to fill abundantly the ever present silence in the room.
I maintain that the answer remains with the celestial star who was birthed and produced it’s first echo to the new moon.

If you enjoyed this poem check out my book Millennial Philosophy available now on Amazon Fam