Friday, 16 May 2014


Love is an unconditional condition that suffers no competition,
When mind meets body and soul at its epicenter 
there's no stopping the energy in motion, 
The circle is pure and free from vicious practices, 
portions and deception, 
 Love is the place two become one without subtraction,
Rather the numbers merge into completion 
and desires come to fruition,
Love is the fire and the heart its hearth,
Begetting nothing but more love:
Its offspring are full of virtue and untainted from birth,
Know love and know nothing but mirth,
In it you should bath and drown your wrath.



I am the inside man,
They all know who I am,
They know I know their every plan,
And that makes me the troublesome one.

I am the inside woman,
My man knows who I am,
He knows he's my only man,
But that doesn't stop the fun.

I am the inside one,
The soul knows that we are one,
I am the voice of the daughter and also the son,
Our secrets aint for everyone. 

I am the inside man,                                            
The silent one, the troublesome one,
I am the substance in the existence of every man,
Let's talk more tomorrow, for now am done. 


The Dawn of Alkebulan

Wake up from your sleep oh I-free-CAN child,
Wake up from your sleep and slumber no more,
For too long you have slept in unperturbed oblivion,
The Dawn of Alkebulan comes but once in a million,
  Sleeping Beauty must now awake as a giant beast;

One possesing gigantic opinion.

Centuries have come and gone and your brilliance missed,
Watching from a distance the gods are pissed,
The philosopher must arise and his masters appeased,
His lips sanctified, by fire kissed.

Roar from whence you lie and announce your return,
The air must once again be permeated 
by the sounds of drums, shakers and warrior chants,
The complacency in enslaved minds must be replaced 
by wisdom from the scrolls that didn't burn,
Those whose imaginations would have endeared 
to touch the sun if it hadn't been for the gun.

Rise up for your ilk,
the children of those that shed blood as one,
'Divide and rule' was always part of their master plan,
Even as you accepted gifts from ships and a thorny crown,
The peace in the 'tomb' is of no reward 
when the spirit is restless at rest,
Cotton in your ears, nose and mouth -a cotton clown.

Rise up or stay down and forever hold your piece,
Idiocy is bliss and also disease,
Too cozy in the bed of roses,
One that is of no more comfort to you or your clan.

Pardon me for going in too deep beyond the briefs,
I am here to arouse your monstrous potential,
As a child of the soil you have it exponential,
Abundance, none of which is preferential,
Open your eyes and arise, 
before the birds and the worms,
What was once ignorance the bed of roses, 
is now a bed of thorns,
Arise from your sleep, Keep vigil and never slip up,
Big Brother says it's time to keep up 
or keep down though for the most part it's made up,
Made up by the deviant that wants to keep trapped, 
whatever hangovered consciousness you still have left.
Wake up!

~ ALsHaVeRb
"Men are callous creatures,"
her grandma said.
"They are only after one thing."
That, she did remember at the beginning
and the end of each fling;
Each 'phallusy' more phenomenal than the other,
in lust and never lasting;
Loose lips sink ships so they might as well just sing;
She figured if those hips could pay heaps then she might as well just sin;
Drove them crazy with her curves and drove them crazy in their back seats; 
Wrapped them round her finger like Jerry curls, incoming, outgoing;
Summer boy,
winter boy,
rebound boy,
Running towards her goal post to score shots, charming!;
Until the wind started blowing and the fire started burning;
Then came the coughing and the choking, yes! the fire was spreading;
Isolated in the left wing;
Thinking about her last will;
Thinking about her coffin;
Thinking about
the wine,
the whiskey
and the dry gin;
All it took was a couple nails and she was hammered in;
Forever shut away from life's din;
A tragedy mistaken for a quick win.
Black poet,
White poet,
Red poet,
Coloured poet,
United as one in a quest for knowledge,
Entangled in chains of thought free of bondage,
Born to serve through the pen, to the craft we pay hommage,
Linguistic dreams keep us alive and even through strife we somehow manage.
Short poet,
Tall poet,
Fat poet,
Thin poet,
Different in the physical,
Together in the spiritual,
Fascinated by the mystical,
Philosophical and lyrical.
Rich poet,
Poor poet,
Opulent poet,
Down-to-earth poet,
The words themselves are in a class of their own,
Their value immeasurable, their power renown,
Self-expression the only currency we've ever really known,
From way back when we were kids and our little lights shone.
Singer poet,
Rapper poet,
Writer poet,
Spoken-word poet,
Same platform, different stages, perform for a fee,
2pac be like: "All eyez on me"and sometimes for free,
Sometimes they hear, sometimes they see,
Though one thing is for sure, they could never be we.
Smooth poet,
Rough poet,
Fine poet,
Coarse poet,
Textures refined through space and time,
Like fine wine to be savored by both your pallet and mine,
Wordplay is the fine art we practice in rhyme,
We tell it like it is and it is not a crime.
Village poet,
Town poet,
Country poet,
Urban poet,
Sage poet,
Pilgrim poet,
Still poet,
Moving poet,
Preacher poet,
Rabbi poet,
Sheikh poet,
Guru poet,
Master poet,
Apprentice poet,
Gangsta poet,
Victim poet,
Rebel poet,
System poet,
Rasta poet,
Bald-head poet,
Male poet,
Female poet,
Transgender poet,
Child poet,
Straight poet,
Gay poet,
Random poet,
Precision poet,
N.B poet,
E.G poet,
P.S poet,
E.T.C poet,
We are all poets and by now you should know it,
If you got love for AlshaVerb then you should show it,
If you got something to say then you should say it,
And if you love nappy hair then you should grow it.
I am a poet,
You are a poet,
He is a poet,
She is a poet,
Once a poet,
Always a poet.

I wonder what Jesus is up to and what He could possibly be thinking; 
It's the supposed celebration of His death and mankind is down here partying, philandering and drinking; 
The cleaning ladies' noses twitching coz the vomit, booze,
illicit sex and sheets be stinking;
While sinners sin without blinking  the sin city is sinking;
Hungry men drive by red light districts, their windows open just
enough  to see the twilight girls winking;
Tomorrow they will sleep through it and Come Sunday they will be driving their families to church, their colognes reeking and their pockets tinkling;
That pocket change a gesture of absolution for their sins washed away by the Son of sorrow:
Some can't help but doze off while the preacher's speaking;
Monday marks the end of a long weekend
and life proceeds like nothing happened;
Year in, year out, I wonder quietly
but today I cant help but wonder out loud about what Jesus could be thinking.

~ AlShaVeRb

                                                               MY TEACHER

 My teacher deserves a beating for beating me up while teaching me lies,
For lashing out on my delicate behind with no good reason and then enjoying my cries,
For crossing out my views with a red pen and still expecting me to revise,
For adopting a superiority complex based on suits and ties,
For having no idea about or respect for my intelligence and still claiming to be wise,
For categorizing students of varied unique capabilities alike: 
thereby gambling with futures like dice,
For forcefully instilling ideologies using a fear-based device,
For telling me that the missionaries came to my homeland to do something nice;
For calling my people savage apes based on Darwin's lies,
For claiming that my roots were uncivilized and ridden with vice,
For all the white writings on the black wall, the children are still intellectually impoverished: 
I call them academic mice,
For sniffing in that toxic chalk from the mines,
a double-edged misfortune responsible for rotting young lungs
as well as jotting down misconceptions onto young minds,
Each dot a point where the Xs meet the Ys,
For the price that shall be paid once the sleeping dogs arise,
Once the lies are frozen in time and if need be in ice.