The Crucifixion


There is a rotting of a soul
I’m the people’s King yet to be enstooled.
I tried to crucify my own soul,
But nailing the unseen is for the confused.
Friends think it will be a fraud for me not to make heaven,
Mama thinks if God doesn’t deliver me soon
the devil will have my name tattooed on the lining of his tongue.
My mind is in every dumpster across the city,
In the pit of the soot used in making darkness,
And in the bright light that blinds your vision.
I want to unlearn this world and start anew.
I keep finding fresh wounds in places I thought had healed
And bruises in places I didn’t know existed.
You said “I love you” as compensation
for all the ways you failed to love me.
I said “I love you” as an antidote to raise the almost dead.
I have been forgetting names of everything;
Names of old school mates and new faces,
Names of places no matter how many times I visit,
Names of drugs that take 40 days to complete.
But I cannot seem to forget the name
of that which is yet to exist.
My sanity is in knowing I too am mad.
When I stare at myself in the mirror,
It is the brutal truth of my nakedness that stares back at me
I have started looking for warmth outside of myself;
I wave at strangers just to see if they will smile.
I tried to crucify my own soul,
Nailing the unseen could only be done by the confused.
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Tired Jesus


If Christ was alive,
fleshed out right before your eyes
Will he be black?
Will he be committed to perfecting his swag?
Will he judge?
Smile in your face and behind your back paint you black like a hypocrite?
Will he condemn? Will he ostracize the gays?
Will he shove the word down your throat? Or in a subtle nuanced way press you to join the boat?
Will he equate Facebook likes to your chances of making heaven?
Or will his refusal to share Christian posts make him a heathen?
Will he carry an std?
Or do I blaspheme daring to put Christ and sex in the same scene?
Will he finally have pictures of himself captured saying cheese?
Or will he precede his every word with a please?

Christ on a billboard
Christ on the bare streets
Christ sang in hiphop
Christ in your every deed
Christ on a big stage
Christ on a dope car
Christ remembered only on sabbath days
Christ on the lips of boys in between thighs on a sofa
Which one of him are you?

Will he groove with the hommies
Or will he disapprove and call them unholy?
Will he teach them how to pray
Or will his rod be the way through which we can see his face?
Will he speak in tongues on the regular?
Chanting down Babylon in any random space?
Will he still be a carpenter’s son, sawing wood in the hood?
Will he wake up daily staring down at morning wood?
Will he be a humorless boy with no time to play
Dedicating his whole life to the ministry and chastising everything you say?

Christ on a billboard
Christ on the bare streets
Christ sang in hiphop
Christ in your every deed
Christ on a big stage
Christ on a dope car
Christ remembered only on sabbath days
Christ on the lips of boys in between thighs on a sofa
Which one of him are you?