Black & White

I’m glad to see you’ve all joined me here tonight,
I’ve invited you to this place to discuss the black and white.
I’m not talking about race (altho that could be easily segued),
I’m talking about the motivations of people throwing shade:

You see, it’s easy to inevitably get swayed,
I personally, have occasionally gotten played,
By the vacuous systems of distraction on the web,
Which appeal to us in moments of weakness as if we’re plebs;

But the key point, that on this evening I’d like to make,
Is that assertions of dichotomous absolutes are just fake.
No single thing that’s right means that it’s opposite is always bad;
As if having two moms being okay means that it’s wrong to have two dads.

It’s like thinking that if chocolate’s good, vanilla’s gross;
It’s like thinking you can never again have something doughy because you like toast;
As if someone who’s usually wrong can never be right,
Or the night time and darkness are evil because we like light.

You see, I’ve said it before in many platforms but I’ll say again:
Duality is nature’s reality, my good friends;
And I’ve yet to discover enough ways to sufficiently say,
That in between the black and white are a billion shades of gray–

For that matter let’s discuss even that black and white,
Because I betcha I can find a shade darker, and more light,
That an average observer out of context would confess,
Is the same name of the different shade which you suggest

Is called “black” or “white” as I hold up a tinted tile,
And even let you stare and ponder on it a while.
Yet in this regard I confess I’d do no better,
Subjected to the very same test right down to the letter,
The only thing I could say when proven wrong in the end,
Is “There are billions of shades of black, white, and grey, my friends.”

Another Sleepless Night in Bed Alone

Hell,
I feel like I fell in a cell,
I never was mentally well,
Least not since the age of 12.
Delve,
Deeper inside my fire,
You may wanna call me a liar,
But there are purposes ever higher
That I desire.
Inspired,
I cry like I’m singin’ a choir,
My pain is a funeral pyre,
We soak ‘er in gas and then fry ‘er.
Two-timer.

Gang-signs.
Rewrite midnight framed minds.
Mind-frame stagefright blind games, Continue reading