I Don't Believe the Hype

CoIntel warrior

under duress

goes one hundred

ninety-nine miles

to express

outrage

Conveniently leaving

in his wake some verse

When pigs fly

I’ll believe

this man was not coerced

-HymnAgen

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Boiling Blood

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Out of My Head

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What More?

She understands

Me.

I appreciate

Her.

Anything else is icing.

What more?

-HymnAgen

Melanin Love

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When? (A Headroomination)

My past is fractions

of seconds behind me;

my future fractions

of seconds ahead.

My present is in flux

between those two inside my head.

Who and what am I

seem more simplistic answers

than: When?

-HymnAgen

Wild Boar

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Remember Me

Remember me with:
Compassion in your spirit
Respect in your eyes
Love in your hearts
Empathy for my wife
Honor on your lips
Truth in your throats
Fire in your bellies
Inspired by works I wrote
And this life will be
Well worth the time I spent here

-HymnAgen

Awash in Emotions

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Their Language

I cried out in my native tongue

and they ignored me,

so I spoke to them in theirs. 

Now they hear me

loud and clearly

even over the crackle of flames

and gun shots,

because they only understand 

their own language.

-HymnAgen

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Don't Waste Your Breath!

You cannot have a dialogue with those who spew out monologues. STOP trying to explain your position to those who WILL NOT listen. When you are blue in the face you are already dead in their eyes. Eff' em!

Frozen Moments

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Life Began in Brooklyn (The Birth of HymnAgen)

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Extraneous Thangz

Allow me lighten your load –

the burden of your curiosity.

Yeah, we were boys once –

two of three amigos,

so I harbor no animosity toward you,

my once and former brotha.

THAT would require I care about you

one way or the other,

and that just is not the case.

All of it is in the past –

our dozens laughs

the blunts we passed

so I’m only indulging this

because you asked

our third amigo how to invite me

to your impending nuptials.

Bottom line?

We ain’t friends…

(likely, never will be again)

I’ve no desire to attend,

‘cause I’d only be fakin’ the funk

when I’m trying to live genuinely.

Embracing my principles of honor.

Real talk, dude.

I don’t hate you –

I’m indifferent,

and the difference is significant.

The former is all consuming;

the latter not even amusing

enough to entertain.

I gotta let go of extraneous thangz

and folks whose interests do not pertain

at all to

my

well-

being.

Try it sometime…

It is spiritually freeing!

Peeeeaaace!

-HymnAgen

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I Look Away

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Wolves in Shepherd's Clothing

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THIS Muhfuka Here

We all know him –

at least, we’ve seen him.

Shoot, many of us have even been him

on rare occasion.

His name is…THIS Muhfuka Here.

This dude (or chick) magically appears

implanting something in your ear

as if it has validity

when in truth it’s utter stupidity!

Makes you shake and nod your head

simultaneously.

When you say his name it will be

paired with a side-eye instantaneously.

Amazed by how inane he can be.

How can he say that sh!t plain as can be?

While you’re scratching your temple;

briefly even questioning the state of your mental

faculties.

Seriously doubting the accuracy

of your own perceptions for a second.

Then try to act like you don’t care,

but whenever he is near

you draw attention to him saying,

“Look at” or, “Listen to” THIS Muhfuka Here!

Yes, we can try, but we cannot deny

his rightful place among us.

-HymnAgen

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Gray Skies

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On His Terms

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Her Smile

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My Brotha's Pain

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Stirred By Her Touch (Redux)

The cauldron

containing my spirit

bubbleth over

with poetic lyric

when stirred by her touch

after long separation

simply amazin’

Wicked witch still draws my lusts

out of me like a restless legion

Breathless

Fiendin’

for a sweaty encounter this evenin’

Supple skin caught in my clutch

Digits seekin’

erogenous zones

causing knees to weaken

to a soundtrack of moans

condoning

man-lip-ulation

unleashing sensations

that quell frustrations

pent up for durations

unknown

leaving cerebrum

and cerebellum blown

torso receiving

impulses of arching

and heaving

the top of my dome

alternately receiving

shoves and caresses

of lust manifested

on the physical plane

of reality

throws ebbing gradually

“Don’t touch me”

“Don’t touch me’

spoken emphatically

yet erratically

“Stop laughing at me”

as if she’s mad at me

Knowing she’ll try to get back at me

Every second feels like forever

And I can’t wait for her to dole out justice

-HymnAgen

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FEAR

FEAR

I wrestle with what comes

across as effortless to some –

with finding words

that serve me valiantly

when my inner strength succumbs to my fears,

and gallantry

is nowhere to be found

between the heart

that feeds my mind its thoughts

and the hand

that writes them down.

My fears rest upon my balance scale

opposing my will to prevail

against concerns of being judged,

criticized, and shown no love;

vilified

by my self-consciousness –

curtailing the responsiveness

of my scribing guiding limb.

Immobilized

by my fear’s wantonness.

I cannot shake this feeling

of nakedness

when I expose

my private thoughts

and my emotions

before you all within my prose.

So I hide behind a pseudonym

and embrace avatars.

Remaining aloof sharing my truth

has best abetted me thus far.

Setting free my passion.

Sparing me from my noose.

Therapy for anxieties

I have nurtured since my youth.

-HymnAgen

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Technozombies

Technology zombies

all around me alarm me.

Marching like a mindless army.

                                               

This sh!t is beyond me.

They’re plugged in around the clock

being programmed

and they can’t stop!

It’s black ops !

They are under the spell of the cell;

can’t tell what’s fake from reality.

In actuality, caught up in a virtual world –

preferring cyber sex to the flesh of a girl.

Looking at @sses

with 3-D glasses;

Rubbin’ out bio-hazards.

Nasty b@st@rds

walking down the street in a trance;

smartphone sticky from the skeet in they hand.

Watch out! Damn,

another zombie hit by a van.

Fool didn’t look –

transfixed by some tweets and a book

full of faces hadn’t thought about in ages.

Frontin on instagram pages.

This sh!t it outrageous!

We’re helping the man re-enslave us

with the tricknology that he gave us.

It modifies our behaviors

by making us tame.

Keeping us from gettin’ hip to the game

like dilly b!tches,

caught up in they tumblr pictures.

Blowing kisses in mirrors

wearing nothing but britches.

Sh!t is ridiculous!

MK Ultra: no one’s suspicious.

It’s remote mind control

changing humans to drones.

Altering our chemistry.

Fvckin’ wit our memories.

Turning friends to enemies.

Kin folk to foes,

while they’re kickin’ back counting they dough

What?

You didn’t know?

-HymnAgen

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Perfect As U R

All this non-gender-specific-ness

is ridiculous.               

How the hell did we ever get to this point?

Who took the initiative

of erasing the gender line

in trying to close the gender gap?

They’re screwing with the human mind.

How we define ourselves is under attack,

and some seem to believe that’s fine…

I believe this is by design – a fiendish

plot to divide and conquer us

by driving a wedge in between us.

We are a complementary pairing:

vagina and penis

resulting in a birth.

Between Mars and Venus,

there lies an Earth.

Betweens us is something that works,

so why try to make us the same through names?

You’re playing games with your claims

of inherent sexual bias while choosing to retain

the masculine form as the norm –

actor,

waiter,

comedian.

Sounds like hypocrisy to me.

I’m just sayin’.

I love women.

I don’t need you to be like men to see an equal,

or behave more masculine for me to treat you

with all due respect.

I don’t want to be culturally neutered,

nor have you culturally spayed.

Your femininity is priceless to me;

you should always feel free to display it

without feeling naked and objectified,

fully appreciated, as I have testified

in the past.

For when separated from you

I am just half

of my full potential.

I recognize you as being essential

to my very survival.

 

You expand my life span

through your love of your man,

and all that love encompasses –

from your nurturing to your accomplishments.

Why would I ever want you to be just like me

when you’ve been perfected through evolution

in your femininity?

-HymnAgen

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Beautiful Black Woman (Revised)

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Unrequited

Am I complicating matters

by jumping in the batter?

Or do I make the batter better

by being in your mix?

 

I can’t fix what’s going on in your life.

I am torn by the feelings that I have for you.

 

As my word is my bond,

I pretend this other man

that you have in your life

is somehow worthy of you

when this dude is just trifling.

 

In my view, he’s dragging you

through emotional mud.

He takes everything you do

for him for granted.

 

He does not deserve you,

yet I refuse to put him on blast

since that would hurt you,

but eventually you’ll catch his @ss.

‘Til then, I play with silly women

while he plays on a queen,

blurring your vision with his venom

until you put a bullet in him.

Hey, a brotha can dream.

 

Yes, I do hate this player,

but I won’t player-hate.

That is a basic man-law

that I’m unwilling to break.

I’ll just wait,

and tally up all the mistakes

that he makes.

Listening as over time you

recognize he’s a snake.

 

I’ve debated pros and cons

about putting you on,

but refrained from doing so

unsure of how you’d respond.

Would that pull us together,

or destroy what exists?

Then decide there too much risk,

so I button my lips

and keep my peace,

praying that this bullsh!t will cease.

Keep reinforcing your denial

of the fact that he creeps while you sleep.

Never revealing that my feelings run deeper

than you’ve ever known,

because I’m in your friend zone.

 

-HymnAgen

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What is Love?

Love,

what are you, really?

An inkling?

A vibe?

A stirring inside

my being

when my loins

and my third eye

find themselves agreeing

with my heart

instead of seeking

their own interest?

I must confess:

You perplex me,

even vex me at times.

Often stressed me

over the years,

yet I’ve embraced you

every time that you appeared

along my journey.

Although you’ve burned me

more than I care to remember,

I’m that sucker for you

who always surrenders

to you whims.

You’ve coerce me with their skins.

Under duress, I’ve given in

Time, and time, and time,

and time again.

Cleaving to the hope that I might win

at your game.

You sick sadist!

Inflicting pain

every time I sought the comfort of your

pleasure in girls’ treasures!

I guess that makes me a masochist,

enjoying your perversions.

I turned my back on lust for you

when lust never left me hurting.

Lust doesn’t have your pathologies.

When lust leaves, it never bothers me.

Lust has never promised me

happily-ever-afters,

then reneged haughtily with, “Psych!” –

mocking me with laughter.

Still, I always leave

the porch light on at night

and the door ajar –

an open invitation to my heart.

I’m like a Christian still believing

without proof that you exist.

In everything outside religion and love

only the fools do this.

So love, what are you, really?

A gift?

A curse?

A truth?

A lie?

I say you’re all of the above

When felt, you are proof I am ALIVE.

-HymnAgen

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Where is the Compassion?

So what can I say about Ray?

 

Dude fvcked up,

 

but got me thinking about Janay

and all these folks

calling her stupid ‘cause she stayed.

 

Y’all are useless.

 

If dude is truly abusive,

in what way

does calling her stupid support her?

 

Misguided or not

she’s in love with this man. Has a daughter

with this man

who she’s known since they were young.

 

There is NO LOVE for her in calling her dumb,

 

but there is empathy in holding YOUR tongue,

restraining YOUR compulsion to type

some harsh criticism about the love of her life

criticisms that might be true,

 

nonetheless,

they can cut like a knife to the flesh;

I’m sure she don’t need that mess.

 

Homegirl needs time to reflect –

see what’s best for her and her daughter, stressed-less

by instagrams and tweets

from random people who treat

these websites like soapboxes

and preach then go gossip.

Why not instead stick your head in the ground like an ostrich?

(or even your tongue in a socket…your choice, with your phoney @sses! )

 

-HymnAgen

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A Spoken Word piece definitely worth hearing. Check him out

Spoken Word piece by Troy Jones "WHAT?!!!!!"

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The Last Laugh

In my mind

I am defined by my capabilities

not your perceptions and assumptions,

and those I invite to dwell in my circumference

and share in my blessings

have learned the same lessons.

We studied from the same texts;

read from the same handbooks

to avoid the pitfalls

and elude the ambush-es

so many fall victim to…

Implemented resistance to

their propaganda machine and its messages.

Counteracted their brainwashing efforts with

Truth-to-Power tactics –

debunking the manufactured

disinformation their media puppets

disseminate to the public

and expect it to be accepted

as fact-u-al

when in act-u-al-ity

it’s bogus!

Packed with distractions

promoting inaction, acceptance, and fear –

just like that God damn Serenity Prayer

posted in a frame on the wall for years

in my parents’ living room.

Perhaps you know it?

But left to our own,

we discovered Last Poets

while rummaging through their LPs and 45 stacks.

Thank goodness for the advent of Hip-Hop and Rap

that spawned “sample research”

and drove some to sift

through record collections

for new-to-us riffs –

resurrecting the passions of Gil Scott-Heron.

They were inspired.

Those voices of resistance ignited a fire in later generations

who became Public Enemies

that formed X-Clans

to become Righteous Teachers

and support Spike Lee features.

Seeking to regain the right to control our public images,

and be valued for more than our court play and scrimmages.

To project so much more than the gangsta and whore

narratives university studies explore

time

and time

and time

and time again:

What’s Wrong with African-American Men?

I contend – not a thing.

We perform as intended.

Succumbed to the protocols recommended

by the Learned Elders (of Zion) they label a hoax.

Yet we feel the effects of this ruse the most

in this so-called post-racial America.

We strive to fulfill Maya Angelou’s vision

and rise yet again

just as generations of strong Black women and men have done.

From field to the ‘hood,

from blue collar to white,

from projects to mansions

some have risen despite

every effort to keep us imprisoned

through deceptive religions,

unfunded schools

and a political system of two party rule

that behaves as the New Order of the Ages

prophesied in the pages of 1984.

Was Orwell a seer or something more?

A eugenics engineer, perhaps?

I don’t know but what’s clear

is the fears of Rodney King have yet to disappear,

‘cause many of us still can’t just get along.

So shut up with that bullsh!t Kumbaya song.

You don’t love me!

You suspect me of thuggery like it’s simply part of my genetics,

as if my propensity for violence is so deeply imbedded

in my make up I can never wake up from it.

But I assure you,

I am not sleeping.

I’m watching.

Studying.

Intently peeping out game.

Learning the ways of the devil so I don’t make the same

wicked moves when my people return to power again

to destroy false distinctions between races of men.

The Greatest Lie born of the Enlightenment error.

Conveniently told to support a reign of terror

that keeps the few in control over the many.

That transformed the frozen north into the lands of plenty

on the backs of southern labor,

through the blood of southerner’s toil,

for the theft of valuable resources

from conquered southerner’s soil.

But Aquarius is dawning

as Pisces fades to black.

Spiritually and physically,

they feel they are under attack

from Gaia’s great payback.

As the saying goes, “It’s a mother.”

Yet few exhibit any contrition for not embracing me like a brother.

But there is irony in justice.

So as all this comes to pass,

me and mine will laugh best

for me and mine will laugh last.

-HymnAgen

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