D.Greaves

Well Veresed. Never Rehearsed.

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    A QUILL AND MY WILL

    Give me a quill and my will

    and I will extrapolate from my membrane a cogent thought,

    my style not influenced, but a confluence of tributaries

    from the diasporian dictionary, I pay tribute

    not to dignitaries or illuminaries, but the subsidiaries of the Sub-Saharan slave trade

    in my D.N.A. is  hereditary, based on my pigmentary, to be the beneficiary

    of my anscestors blood spilled on the soil in which I was planted,

    a common seed, not a dignified breed, but still I refused to concede,

    felt the need to exceed, at godspeed, and proceed to supersede,

    the glory of the Luxor Temple built at Thebes

     

    Give me a quill and my will

    and I will, like my parents immigrate, then integrate

    into a new black conscience, not the con science

    that says blacks need to be reliant on European gifts,

    but the Great Valley Rift, from which I emerged, and added words

    to the Song of Solomon, people ask me what do I plan for the future,

    brother I'm gonna be Obama-in, meditating on the Shaolin,

    finding sacred ground that I can consecrate with the authentication

    of my creative deliberations, I will take into consideration, reciprocation

    and give like Jesus during His Transfiguration, and if I die due to a proliferation

    of negativity, I will still be D'ee in spirit, because I've seen the Promised Land,

    saw a black man go from slavery's tribulation to an inauguration

     

    Give me a quill and my will

    and I will remain alive even during those days I want to die,

    at three years old I arrived on this shore, and through necessity

    developed a personality contrived, based equal parts on Bajan heart,

    book smarts and ghetto jive, yet still I continued to fertilize

    this seed of creativity, eventually I knew it would seperate me,

    from the masses yearning to be free, within the cauldron,

    Philly at times resembling the Balkans, still I felt emboldened,

    had many aquaintances but only one true friend,

    the quill and my indomitable will to surivive,

    to those who tought I would spiritually die,

    well..SUPRISE, and still I rise

     

    THE QUILL AND MY WILL

    NOTHING ELSE NEEDED,

    THE KORAN AND THE BIBLE ALWAYS I'VE HEEDED,

    AND EVEN AT TIMES WHEN MY MENTAL IS DEPLETED,

    SOON AND VERY SOON I'M GOING TO SEE THE KING

    AND CHILL WHERE HE IS SEATED

     

    Give me a quill and my will

    and I will achieve, though I belong to a party sometimes aggrieved,

    I never asked to be relieved, of the stereotrypes that soceity perceived,

    maybe that's the spirit of the Congolese, or the Sudanese, or Greaves,

    dictating what I write on papyrus leaves, with expertise I will continue to retrieve,

    the blessings of creativity I received, from the Creator, this rock I will build upon,

    become a spoken word Don, not naive enough to remain on my kness,

    but running the black intellectual Mafia like I'm Vito Genovese

     

    Give me a quill and my will

    and I will present undeniable proof of my prolific roots,

    not Roots like Kunta Kinte, but resembling Mali in the heyday

    of the African dynasty, not the primacy of the Peculiar Institution's impropriety,

    but the psychiatry of my reasons behind the variety of styles I file

    when I'm feeling the anxiety, to seek supremacy,

    I don't ask nor desire to seek amnesty, I just want who reads me,

    to know I am unmistakably D'ee, a man with the capabilty, to retain his privacy,

    yet allow you to feel the intimacy of my spoken word vibe periodically, feel me?

     

    Give me a quill and my will

    an I will simply refuse, to be reduced to refuse, a.k.a trash,

    I will outlast those seduced by the enthused, light my fuse

    and I will transfuse the Muse, give enough light for everyone to use,

    real talk, when I am temporarily removed from my writing groove,

    I feel withdrawl symptoms, I don't look to these hooks, for income,

    but rather an each one, give one referrendum, use these words

    so those in Allah's Kingdom, know that the gift of wisdom,

    wasn't wasted by me on some winsome charm, but rather to sound the alarm,

    that though D'ee has been harmed, still I remain armed,

    with God's Sword, and let them know I can absorb,

    copious amounts of punishment, because my soul wasn't sold on consignment,

    my blood spilled I can afford, because my pride is distilling

    where the grapes of wrath are stored,

    Glory, Glory, Hallelujah, Jah Rastafari,

    I'm marching through Zion, relying on my Lion,

    spyin Judas in Judah, so let my words prove to ya,

    with my 3rd eye, I see right through ya,

    until the inkwell is dry,  I will refuse to die,

    to those who predicted my demise,

    well..SUPRISE, and STILL I RISE

     

    MY QUILL AND MY WILL

    NOTHING ELSE NEEDED,

    THE KORAN AND THE BIBLE ALWAYS I'VE HEEDED,

    AND EVEN AT TIMES WHEN MY MENTAL IS DEPLETED,

    SOON AND VERY SOON I'M GOING TO SEE THE KING

    AND CHILL WHERE HE IS SEATED

     

     

    • 2 September 2011
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    Thanks for stopping by and visiting my site. I hope you enjoy the poetic works shared here.Please feel free to leave a comment and subscribe. You can also find me on Facebook under Darwin Greaves. While there, stop by and like my fan page. Listed under D.Greaves the Poet.

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  • About D.Greaves

    Thanks for stopping by and visiting my site. I hope you enjoy the poetic works shared here.Please feel free to leave a comment and subscribe. You can also find me on Facebook under Darwin Greaves. While there, stop by and like my fan page. Listed under D.Greaves the Poet.

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