4:41 PM - Kingdom of Free Dumb
Category: Writing and Poetry

When I discovered that the word "freedom" is no longer an entry in Webster's Standard Dictionary, I was somewhat troubled. This book is billed as "The New International" English dictionary. On the bottom front cover it sports flags from the United States, Canada, Great Britain and five other English-speaking nations. It boasts of more than 30,000 entries, but 'freedom' is not one of them.

I thought perhaps it was a part of the new standard. Maybe the definition of "free" ([adj.] 'not busy or in use; independent, unrestrained; without debt or obligation; without cost' [verb] 'to release or make available') was all that the book required. So I researched a word of similar structure - I looked up "king" ([noun] 'a male sovereign; one superior in a particular field' [adj.] 'pre-eminent' {'rising high above others'}) and "kingdom" ([noun] 'the domain of a king, a broad domain, as in the animal kingdom'). Okay, if 'kingdom' had an entry, why not 'freedom'? Maybe it had to do something with the suffix -dom: "domain" ([noun] 'one's sphere of influence or control, territory controlled by a person or government'). It didn't make sense.

Eventually, I found the word 'freedom' as part of the definition for "liberty" ([noun] 'freedom from restraint or restriction; certain rights granted by custom or legislation'). "Certain rights"...?! Granted by custom"...?!

"The words of Thomas Jefferson came to mind:

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3:18 PM - Meant to Be (something from awhile back)
Category: Writing and Poetry

MEANT TO BE

I always knew we were meant to be
Because I have never felt so deeply
For a lady whom I knew felt the same for me
And even the pain and shame
We cause each other in this game
Could never diminish what you meant to me
For I have always known that
You and I were meant to be
Me for you, and you for me

Meant to meet each other way back in high school
When you were aiming for college
And I was training to be a fool
Yet, despite our differences in backgrounds,
Outlooks and side views,
We always managed to stay closer than just cool
I felt so guilty when another had my baby
I always thought it should be you, see
For I have always known that
You and I were meant to be
Me for you, and you for me

One thing I could never understand
Was why you waited so long to admit
That indeed, you wanted me to be your man
The hourglass was quickly wasting sand
But I don't think you were really aware of us
Until the day I put a platinum band
On another woman's hand

As your interest in me conflicted with the reality
Of my unavailability
There was a gradual change between she and me
It degenerated into incompatibility
Until the day divorce set me free
And immediately I cast mine eyes to thee
Because I still believed you and I were meant to be
Me for you, and you for me


When our turn finally came it felt so pure
Other bait, to me, was no real lure
But somehow, you still felt insecure
The poisoned thoughts in your mind
Were too potent for the antidotes
In my heart to cure
And love that carried us across so many years and so many miles
Suddenly could no longer endure
In spite of all the storms we withstood
It seemed we just couldn't handle the Fair weather
Because there was more comedy than tragedy
In our disharmony
So much, I guess, that we forgot that little promise
That our thing would last forever
But even today, I still believe
You and I are meant to be,
Me for you and you for me,
But not meant to be TOGETHER

© Jahaka Mindstorm

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8:34 AM - UpSwing
Category: Life

Thanks to everyone for their good wishes, prayers and spiritual support, especially after my last blog, which didn't reflect happy thoughts. Perhaps this one will be better...

There was a job fair fest going on two days ago, or more accurately two job fairs. In a small city like Rochester, that's a job fair fest. I needed to get copies printed with my updated resume, so I swing by SWAN (SouthWest Area Neighborhood assoc) where my good friend Stephanie agreed to let me make copies. She asked how many I wanted (oh, maybe a dozen...) - she said: "No, you'll need more than that, Jah. We'll run FIFTY."

On the first run, the copies came out two thirds normal size. Stephanie apologized and insisted that we run off 50 more. These also came out reduced, then a toner error popped up I told her I could work with the reduced size copie ("It will force prospective employers to look more closely at my qualifications," I quipped), but Steph wouldn't take no for an answer.

The third time was the charmed one, and the copies were indeed perfect in size and clarity. I was happy enough to purr, and of course I took the 100 reduced-size copies as well as the 50 'good' ones.

You never know, right?

To make a long story short, I used only one copy. The first employer with whom I parlayed hired me and I start Monday. Isn't that awesome? I'm still keeping the 50 good copies (Like I said, "you never know") but the 100 reduced are now scratch paper for Shannon's doodles. Kewl.

So Monday I'm officially back in the tech support game for the first time since my NYC days. I'll be able to pay off the kind folks who extended loans during the dark days (especially Roger B, who is no less than a saint).

Meanwhile, I once again want to thank all the well-wishers. My God, I really have some wonderful MySpace friends. Hope we can all get together one day and throw back beers, or apple juice, or whatever it is that we do.

Meanwhile, I wish peace and prosperity to everyone, smooth and inspirational writing and shopping, the Merriest of Christmases, The Happiest of Hannukahs, and the most Satisfying of Kwaanzas.

One LOVE.
Uncle Jah

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6:58 AM - 2 Gil Scott-Heron pieces VERY AFROCENTRIC

My reading of blogs lately has been non-existent. I'm just two worn out after each succeeding (and seemingly futile) day of job search concludes. In too much of a pessimistic frame of mind to sully the comment fields of my talented MySpace friends... Instead I've been vegging out on computer games and Bond videos. That's just my coping mechanism.

As Thanksgiving steadily nears, I am ashamed to admit that reasons to be thankful this year are harder to recognize and itemize than reasons for frustration and bitterness. To that end, I want to post two pieces by Gil Scott-Heron, my favorite Spoken Word artist and the REAL father of Hip Hop.

I hope his words bring reflection, and I hope all of you have wonderful weekend in safety, comfort and surrounded by loving family and friends.

BLACK HISTORY
By Gil Scott-Heron

I was wondering about our yesterdays
And in digging through the rubble
I have to say that, at the least,
Somebody went through a hell of a lot of trouble
To make sure that when we look things up
We wouldn't fare too well
And we would come up with totally unreliable
Portraits of ourselves
But I compiled what few facts I could
I mean, such as they are
To see if we could shed a little bit of light
And this is what I got so far:

First, white people discovered Africa
And they claimed it fair and square
Cecil Rhodes couldn't have been robbin nobody
Because he said: "Hell, wasn't nobody there!"
White folks brought all the civilization
They say wasn't none around
'Cause how could these folks be civilized
When they didn't see nobody writin nothin down
And just to prove all their suspicions
Well - it didn't take too long
They found out there were whole groups of people
- In plain sight! -
Running around without much clothes on
That's right!
There were men and women and young folks and old folks
Well, righteous folks just covered their eyes
And no time was spent considering the environment
They just said: "Naw hell no! This just ain't civilized!"
And another way they knew folks was backwards
(Or at least this is how we were taught)
Is that, unlike the various civilized groups of Europe,
These black folks actually fought!
And yes, there were some crude implements
And, yes, they had primitive art
And yes, they were masters of hunting and fishing
And courtesy came from the heart
And yes, there was love and medicine
Religions and inter-tribal communication by drum
But no paper and pencils or other utensils
And hell! These people never even heard of a gun!
So this is why the colonies came:
To stabilize the land
The Dark Continent had copper and gold
And the discoverers had themselves a plan
They would 'discover' all the places with promise
You didn't need no titles and deeds
And they'd appoint people to make everything legal
To sanction the trickery and greed
And back in the jungle, if the natives got restless
You called that 'guerrilla attack'
And you never descried that some folks might have got wise
And decided they was goan fight back
But still, we are victims of word games
Semantics is always a bitch
Places once called 'underdeveloped' and 'backwards'
They now call them 'mineral rich'
But still, it seems like the game goes on
With unity just beyond our reach
Libya and Egypt used to be in Africa
They've both been moved... to the 'Middle East.'
There are examples galore, I assure you
But if interpreting was left up to me
I would ensure, every time, folks knew this version wasn't mine
That's why they call it HisStory

(Note: when Gil first performed this, he alluded to the blues poets of the Harlem Rennaisance and said that some of them were his inspiration for Black History)

THE REVOLUTION WILL NOT BE TELEVISED
By Gil Scott-Heron

You will not be able to stay home, brother. You will not be able to turn on, tune in and cop out. You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and skip out for beer during commercial breaks, because The Revolution will not be televised.

A lot of time people see battles and skirmishes on TV and they say: "Aha! The Revolution is being televised." Naw. The RESULTS of The Revolution are being televised. The first revolution is when you change your MIND about how you look at things; and see that there might be another way to look at it that you have not been shown. What you see later is the result of that, but The Revolution - that change that takes place - will not be televised.

It will not be brought to you by Xerox in four parts without commercial interruption. It will not be brought to you by Schaeffer Award Theatre or Miller Lite, starring Natalie Wood and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia. The Revolution will not be televised.

The Revolution will not be right back after a message about white lightning, white tornadoes or white people. You'll not have to worry about the dove in your bedroom, the tiger in your tank or the giant in your toilet bowl. The Revolution will not get rid of the nubs. The Revolution will not make you look like you lost five pounds. The Revolution will not be televised.

There will be no pictures of you and Willie Mae pushing that shopping cart down the block at a dead run, or trying to slide that color TV into a stolen ambulance. NBC will not be able to predict a winner at 8:32 on reports from 29 districts. The Revolution will not be televised.

The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb or Francis Scott Key. Nor sung by Tom Jones, Glen Campbell, Johnny Cash or Englebert Humperdinck. (Nor none of the other little Humperdincks, should there be any.) The Revolution will not go better with Coke. The Revolution WILL put you in the driver's seat. The Revolution will not be televised, will not be televised, will not be televised. There'll be no re-run, brothers and sisters.

The Revolution will be LIVE.

Happy Thanksgiving. May god grant peace to the souls of the 30 million or so victims of the Native American Holocaust.

Peace

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11:40 AM - MIND TO MIND
Category: Writing and Poetry

MIND TO MIND

What if you and I could speak mind to mind?
How much would that change our points of view?
We would be born with wisdom beyond the ages
Totally free, because it's hard to keep sages in cages
If I knew your thoughts as well as you
I'd be fully in tune with everything you do
If you and I could speak mind to mind
There'd be no more problems; Indeed, life would be sublime

What if you knew every feeling in my heart?
And I knew your heart just as well
We would always be together, no matter how far apart
And each of us would better understand
Simple requests that now seem like complex demands
You want this as much as I do - I can tell
Peace will follow wherever we dwell
For the perfect place for love to start
Is when all is known to the heart

If we never had need of mouths and ears
To exchange information, thoughts and ideas
Nothing about man would be unknown to man
And, therefore, no man would have fears
If I could look deep within you, past your face
Surely I would be spellbound by your grace
At essence, we all are one of a kind
Clearly revealed, communing mind to mind

What if my soul could touch your soul?
In a way that merges two souls into one soul?
Is that too hard too imagine?
Is that idea too bold?
We could wield an incredible amount of force
If all our power came from the same source
And our greatest wishes would all be real
If your soul could feel what my soul feels

I believe we can communicate heart to heart
I believe that in the flame of love
You and I are part of the same spark
I believe your heart can soothe my fears
And when your heart hurts, my eyes will shed your tears
The glow of life will banish the dark
When we start speaking heart to heart

I know you and I can vibe mind to mind
Mental ecstasy ... a soulgasm for all of mankind
The concept isn't really all that hard
Nor is the thought of telepathy so odd
I know we can hear each other, mind to mind
As long as we first master

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11:36 AM - HER FACE IN THE MORNING
Category: Writing and Poetry

Her Face in the Morning

Serenity and peace
Her closed eyelids
And dreaming, trembling lips
I brush with my own
Eyelids closed no more
She wakes

Her face in the morning
The envy of fashion magazines
Her smile in the morning
Smiling because she enjoys
Being awakened by touch

Warmth and softness
Her mocha breasts
Crushed against my chestnut chest
The dragon returns
To his lair

Her face in the morning
Makes me happy to wake
Her heat in the morning
Her glow as I take
What she gives me
And lips that whisper:
I love you

© Jahaka Mindstorm

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8:58 AM - PANDEMIC INSPIRATION
Category: Writing and Poetry

Pandemic Inspiration

Poetry is rising, poetry is rising, poetry is rising...
Did you get the news? A whole new generation of Maya Angelou
Paul Lawrence Dunbar and Langston Hughes
Poetry is rising like the sun on lysergic acid
Psychedelic lines, lyrics multifaceted
Humanity questions and God answers
Removing scales from our third eyes
No surprise - how could it be otherwise?
Poetry is on the rise, on the rise, on the rise...

Poetry is falling like rain on the street, swirling in the gutter
Being licked up by social victims, who spit it back like butter
You can hear the thunder of truth in every word they utter
Like little babies who must have drunk inspiration
Straight from the milk in the breasts of their mothers
Angels of hope who pull our minds in tow
Don't keep quiet - people need to know!
Poetry is on the go, feel the flow, feel the flow...

Poetry is on the rise, on the rise, on the rise...
I can feel it in the vibes, see it shine in the eyes
Of poets and patrons and innocent bystanders
Peace-loving doves and hawkish commanders
Form the drum lines for the magic of dancers and chanters!
Tonight, let's invoke the spirits of the ancestors
Poetry is going and flowing and blowing...
And glowing and growing - just exploding!

Spreading like wildfire - pandemic inspiration
In every alley on every corner
Of every city in every nation
Poetry's rising and I can't let it slip me
Seems sometimes the words spit from my lips
Try to linger, form their own lips, and kiss me
Nothing but pleasure, lyrical treasure
Whenever the inspiration hits me
Change is on the horizon
And poetry is rising, rising, rising...
I'm determined rise up and catch that ride
I just hope that you all rise up with me.

© Jahaka Mindstorm

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8:47 AM - HOUSE MATES
Category: Writing and Poetry

HOUSE MATES

There once was a house; big beautiful and old
Inhabited by three characters: Indifferent, Timid and Bold
Each with his own strengths and weaknesses
Each an actor with a specific role

Bold is infected by two powerful spirits
One is Greed; the other Dispassion
Overall, he cares only for three things:
Sex, drugs and fashion
So Bold acts like a thug; ballin' and mashin'
Stealin' folks cars, joy-riding and crashin'
Bold identifies two kinds of people -
Slick Creepers and Sorry Sleepers
His only motto of note is 'Finder Keepers'
But (keeping it real) here's the deal:
Bold seldom respects the difference
Between 'find' and 'steal.'
Always on a caper for more paper
Bold is considered a compulsive law-breaker
In the big old house, Bold is cool with his role
He doesn't mind being The Perpetrator

The second house mate is very young (or very old,
Depending on how the story is told)
Timid's life is one of Confusion and Fear
Always suspecting disaster lurks near
Timid is happy in a drafty corner of the basement
(Well, not exactly happy, but at least he's complacent)
He plays no childhood games - others never pick him
Timid doesn't really have a motto,
But 'let's go along to get along' is his dictum
He's nothing close to Stupid, yet people always out-slick him
Under the roof of the beautiful house, Timid is always The Victim

The third resident is seldom even there
And, when present, always has his nose in the air
Just doing his time, but he has no time to spare
They call him Indifferent, (but he doesn't care)
Little concern, even for his personal work
Indifferent eyes watch The Perpetrator treat The Victim like dirt
(None of it matters, as long as Indifferent remains unhurt)
His personal motto is: 'I mind my own business'
And Isolation grows from Obsession to Sickness
Yet nothing in the house escapes his attention
For Indifferent is The Unseeing Witness

Bold, Timid and Indifferent; three strange house mates
One crazy destiny, one common Fate
Capitulator, Dominator and Spectator
The house trembles; its foundation shakes
As disjointed values create a spirit-quake
In this house, so perfect from wall to wall
Bold, Timid and Indifferent are three parts of one All
When it acts together, the big house stands tall
But if it remains divided against itself,
Like any other house,
         that soul will fall...

© Jahaka Mindstorm

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1:23 AM - The current state of Jahaka
Category: Life

Lately, I've fallen behind on writing, reading books (and blogs) and just keeping in touch with friends and family. However, I feel that (over all) I'm getting ahead. How is this possible? Well, I'm still unemployed, but Pastor George has put me in position to be on the team doing the youth program, and that will bring in a few dollars. People are finally starting to buy some of my books and CDs instead of just perusing and listening. And most of all, I have a new poetry spot.

Few people know what happened at Julius Café and I'm happy to keep it that way. That might change, though, because the proprietors insist on giving disinformation to patrons who ask why Jahaka Mindstorm no longer hosts the open mic on Fridays. Now Harold Simmons is complaining about the blog spot I setup to promote his café in better days (before he was handed a city-funded web site), saying it slanders him. I resent that untruth enough to live down to it, but not right now, because I am busy.

We started doing a poetry night two weeks ago at the Underground Railroad Café and it's picking up pretty nice. I never liked Wednesdays for Open Mics because a lot of people like to go to Bible Study. (I like the bible but I don't like Bible Study. Too much opportunity for people to spread existing confusion. If you feel like you need to STUDY common sense to get a good grasp of what it means, that's your thang - I ain't hating.)

My daughter broke her hip in basic training and she doesn't have her phone or computer access, so that means I have to write snail mail which I despise. My nephew is doing 90 in the clink for DUI, so he's been on my mind. My Earth seems to be on the verge of another major sickle sell episode and that's a concern too. So no - I haven't had time to write very much and I haven't had time to read very much either.

But my estranged performance partner reached out to me yesterday and I think we'll be working together again soon. That will be potentially lucrative as well as spiritually healing. The new poetry place is getting pretty popular already, despite competing with two open mic venues in the Rochester (and of course competing with Bible Study). My grandson is walking and trying to talk, my grand-nephew is trying to crawl and smiling broadly; and the writing that I AM doing seems clear and purpose-driven. Best of all, my fantasy football team broke a six game losing streak with two straight wins. (FIST PUMP!)

So in short - no - I haven't dropped off the face of the earth, forgotten all my friends or broken my MySpace addiction. I'm just growing/going through simple life stuff. And that's the current state of Jahaka.

Much love to everybody and special thanks to those who inquired. All is well with me. I hope all is well with you, too.

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7:25 AM - I Thought of You
Category: Writing and Poetry

I THOUGHT OF YOU

Today, I woke up and
        I immediately thought of you
I did that yesterday, too.
So I guess it's safe to say
        Me thinking of you is nothing new
That's just what I do
But when I thought of you this morning
        My vibe was rather blue

I guess much of that was due
        To yesterday
Sometimes I'm not quite sure
        How to take the things you say
How we communicate
        Sets the tone for how we relate
Whether or not we date
        Or interest evaporates
I remember telling you:
        "I have no games to play:"
You listened and said "OK"
        Because you didn't like games anyway
In my mind, this conversation danced through
        As I lay there this morning
                As I thought of you

I thought of your incredible body
Enough to knock a man
        To his knees
And I wondered truly when it comes to me
        Is your intent really to please?
                Or do you get off on the tease?
You see, my definition of playing
        Fits a lot of these
I wanted to venture through
        The depths of your forest
Yet, you've been busy planting new trees
Still, I thought of you
        Like I said, that's what I do...

I thought of you and how
        I felt so blue
                And I had to conclude
This ain't cool
I can see myself playing
        Many roles with you
But not one includes playing a fool

Nevertheless, when I woke up this morning
        I immediately thought of you

But if today looks just like yesterday
        Tomorrow morning...

I may think of something new.

© Jahaka Mindstorm

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6:48 AM - Another blast from the past - DATASS
Category: Writing and Poetry

I was inspired to post this oldie after enjoy Je' Maverick's Booty Fever. Guess I'm missing summer already...

DATASS

You can call it the Can, the Beef, the Ham, the Onion
You can call it the Junk in the Trunk
But if you ask any Brother, he'll swear "Word to my Mother"
There ain't nothing like a sista's Bump
His girl will look him in the eyes and he won't blink when he lies:
"Yo! I was NOT looking at that shorty's back!"
The one in question smiles with Pride and throws more motion in her stride
(Ass looks like two basketballs, wrestling in a tight sack)
I'm saying God wasn't playing and brothers must have had a say in
How The Creator Designed the glorious Black Female
Stars in her eyes, Thunder in her thighs and (you'd better recognize) Erotic, hypnotic Power in that tail
Now sistas have some attitude and, true, some are downright rude
And that's understandable, in light of her probable past
There may be crow's feet near her eyes and her smile might be a disguise
But Good GAWD ALMIGHTY! She can't disguise DATASS!

DATASS ain't nothing to play with
It must have some kinda lips, cuz it SPOKE
DATASS must be on fire
I swear! I think I'm smelling smoke
DATASS is round; DATASS is fine
To keep it from getting too proud, God stuck DATASS behind
DATASS is the Mother of Mankind
DATASS will make you lose your ever-loving mind

DATASS would make me act a fool even back in high school, where I thought I was acing the class
It seemed to happen every day; the teacher's voice would fade away... And there I was, thinking about DATASS!
My one-track focus on the Bubble soon would land MY ASS in trouble, 'cause I was treating DATASS like a toy
Mother Nature started working on DATASS I went berserk in and DATASS squeezed out a baby boy!
DATASS can pacify a fellow and make his whole vibration mellow or DATASS can awaken his deepest fears
DATASS can cause an accident or cause his money to be spent; DATASS can make a strong man shed tears
Him might meet she at da club and dem dance -- dem rub-a-dub;
she leaves her digits 'cause the night was a blast
Although he drunk a heavy taste and her face he can't quite place, he could never forget DATASS!

DATASS must be on fire
I swear! I think I'm smelling the smoke
DATASS ain't nothing to play with
It must have lips, 'cause DATASS spoke!
DATASS is round, DATASS is fine
To contain its Pride, God put DATASS behind
DATASS will make you lose your ever-loving mind
DATASS is the Mother of Mankind

© 2005 Jahaka Mindstorm

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5:34 AM - JUST, BECAUSE...
Category: Writing and Poetry

JUST, BECAUSE...

We try to be fair and Just
Just, because goodness resides in us
Just, because the concept is nice
But the reality is cold and blind
Because Justice is always 'just us' -
        - the chosen
Except for when it's 'just ice' -
        - cold frozen
Yet, we really try to be just
        Just, because of what Just is
                Or maybe just... because

When accused of being unjust
    We lose our smiles; we damn near BUST
But we don't bust out of national denial
    No one welcomes self-disgust
        Yet self-truths are seldom mild
And just because we try to rationalize
Ways to view the unjust as justified
No treats as bittersweet as sugar-coated lies
But asking 'why' is a waste of time
When the answer is just... because

Can we be Just because that's how we want to be?
Because that's how we choose to see WE?
Or just because to be (or not to be)
        A land of liberty and a fortress for the free
                Takes more than a bunch of 200-year-old clichés
To change possibly into reality
Does it matter what we believe we be
    In the comfortable blanket of patriotic self esteem
        If the rest of the world perceives
            That what we be is beastly?
For what reasons? Is it just... because?

Yet even when we make our wars
We, the people, must be convinced
Our government has just cause
    Probable cause...
        Hell! Any kind of cause!
Because to have no cause not only violates laws
    But exposes our flaws
Exposes U.S. as the uncivil beast
Getting our way just because
    We have the sharpest fangs
        And the longest claws

We try to be just because 'Just' means 'fair'
'Just' means 'right' - 'Just' suggests we care
We want to be Just, as in synonymous with 'true'
Common decency insists it's the right thing to do
So while our high-flying legislators
Pull strings and flap their jaws
        Think about it!
Are they up there making Justice
Or are they up there just... because?

© Jahaka Mindstorm

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5:28 AM - QUIET AWAKENING
Category: Writing and Poetry

QUIET AWAKENING

Thought I was alone, all my brothers asleep
    Wondered how they could slumber
        In spite of the thunder;
The loud voices of poets like me
Yet a mind touched here and a dream stretched there
And, despite massive odds against it,
    People gradually grew aware

Thought I was walking all by myself
    The only pilgrim on the hill
But there was movement in the sleeping,
    Slowly creeping forms
        I had believed to be still
They said The Sleeping Giant was Asia, was Africa
    Was some other place of rebirth
But the giant I felt waking
    Was all the Humanity of Earth

Let the awakening commence in silence
    To thwart authors of hate and violence
Truth attends the most beautiful nuptials
    The marriage of religion and science
Behold the glorious Utopia we're spiritually making
    Behind a mask of stillness
        As minds are quietly waking

© Jahaka Mindstorm

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4:06 PM - All Saints, All Hallows
Category: Writing and Poetry

All Saints, All Hallows

A pregnant moon, a gloomy sky
The haunting howl of a wolf nearby
Suspicious noise, fearful pause
Twisted roots that grasp like claws

Hallows, ghouls, zombies, djinn
Tortured shrieks ride restless wind
Swirling gusts are hurling leaves
(Gust that blows or ghost that grieves?)

Eve of Spirits, Day of Saints
Night of masks and thespian paints
Bowls of glucose, hard and thick
("Grant my treat, or risk my trick!")

In the bowels of darkest night
Rituals performed for evil's might
Despite the revelry one may be seeing
Beware the powers called into being...

© Jahaka Mindstorm

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6:53 AM - DARK REWARDS
Category: Writing and Poetry

Dark Rewards

What do you value? What's important to you?
How much will you spend to achieve it?
Do you find fulfillment in the things you do?
Do you recognize a Blessing when you receive it?
What do you, above all else, cherish and hold?
Your car? Your house? Silver and gold?
The Dark Rewards for ill-gotten gains
Are worse than being merely defeated
You don't even know you've been cheated
Until you discover you've lost your Soul

"For a million dollars I would..."
So often begins the mantra of the lost
Would you work to save your species
        If it meant being tortured
                And nailed to a cross?
If money were offered for works of ill
How much would you charge your boss?
How much does your honor and loyalty cost?
Earthly rewards might mean eating and living well
And some believe the foulest deeds
Are rewarded with positions of power in Hell
Well... I personally don't know how that works
And none who I suspect may reside in hell
        Have ever returned to tell

For each drop of blood that is shed
Must not the offender then one drop bleed?
As the math of Karma would suggest
The Darker the Reward, the darker the deed
The marking of a soul that never will be freed
O Misery! When you face the Great Judge
        Who Already Knows, indeed ..
How will you plead?
O Misery, how will you plead?

Dark Rewards, we need be taught,
Begin in the mind, with Darkness of Thought
Priceless spiritual treasures
        Cannot be sold or bought
But the greedy are lured
        By promises of Dark Rewards
Then, suddenly ("Gotcha!")
                They're caught!

Caught up in betrayal,
They quickly give their brothers up
Caught up in lies and denial,
Suppressing Dark Deeds with cover-up
Starvation is the Dark Reward
For invaders seeking crude milk and cash honey
Poverty is the Dark Reward
That deserved by the inventor of money
Ignorance is the Dark Reward
Of those who reject the Truth
Bitterness and infirmity are the Dark Rewards
Of those who waste their youth
Lord, Keep me focused,
And as strong as Ironwood
So when I'm tempted by promises of Dark Rewards
I can respond with:
     "Naw, no thanks. I'm Good!"

© Jahaka Mindstorm

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