Three Poems Some-Sum
OG Edmonton Snap Back
My OG Edmonton snap back Been wearing it for close to 4 years now how about that? Wearing it to performances festivals and Cypher Wylds’ kids getting lit on the side lines all the while, I was sober, it had been almost as long as me. Edmonton etched into it’s make just like inside my genes. Born and raised in a city where it’s fun to play OG like EZ not afraid to put in work the same way. I don it like armor a samurai wears, A caricature of where I’m from demons beware. Black and white just like my philosophy, Most of the time it’s either that or this unless its combined then it’s time to restructure my strategy. Gray Jedi trying to maintain the balance of the force, There’s enough evil being done so to be good is my discourse. Black like the clothes kids wear to a funeral, White like all colors my code not strictly numeral. I don’t need to crack crossed or slang pebbles to say yabba Ima do what is right for the world, now how about you? Where were you the first time it was available to cop? Think back to when life was simpler, crown on the side reminding me not to stop. Rise up every day, hold your head directed to the sky because to Edmonton and OG is the definition what it means to be fly.
Cannibal Cloth got me remembering that these fools with my wit and intention I should be dismembering. Taking bites of flesh even if only metaphorical, Always come correct even though not always allegorical. It’s full of the dust blood sweat and tears, the green paint a reminder of what I was up to last year.
Now I be wearing his twin but a bit smaller in the cap because his ego be less swollen, spending my time focusing on this lap. It serves as a reminder to stay humble and what it is to begin. To walk a path of speaking truth and realizations, new hat, new era of the creation of true sanctums. I continue to create my path because as I rebel I choose to chalk them and with focused sensibility do I choose to walk them. By them I mean the words I’ve decided to speak, don’t usually require emblems and logos but I figured it was time I used my shield to deflect those ideas I may not have considered.Â
Instead of deflecting I choose to use them as a reflection of my sphere of influence and of perception and of analytical conceptions biting bars from The Fugees because we were some for the first to ever teach me these lessons and also to speak on the way I felt and still feel.
Now we be ready to do battle with eye opened zeal. So get real with yourself if you think I weat this as a gimmick this hat is a part of my identity just like these experiential alloys getting forged into my lyrics.
So have yourself a seat and get comfortable for this session because I am about to show what it is to use peace to combat aggression.
What can I say about this, Having been forced to sit on the racial fence. Looked at as if I was native instead of being white, looked at as if I was white instead of being native. When really, I didn’t know the difference.
I was raised in a home where racial identification didn’t occur. I was a human and that’s all I thought there were. I’d give a confused look when the cree kids would ask me my spirit name and I’d get the same expression when the white kids asked what it was like to hunt game.
I grew up in the city of Edmonton. A melting pot of multiculturalism. My dad taught me that it didn’t matter what colour you were, if you were an asshole you were an asshole. And I had to decipher on my own which path that I would walk.
Memere took me to church where I soon learned how to talk, Of Catholic rhetoric and dogma, It didn’t take me long to figure out I didn’t want the, body of christ or the burden that went with. I was still in the process of building my forge let alone having enough experience to pour into it. I found I got along better with the people who were paler than me. It seemed I threw them off at first because they had misjudged the clothes that I would wear the long but curly hair or the length of time I would give my dark brown stare. I had to come to embrace all that I was but I still had no introduction into my native culture. No real way to break through the ice until my dad went off to treatment and I was able to experience a sweat ledge for the first time. I saw a green orb in the darkness. It flew around the hut. That same day four hawks appeared as the number of the rounds continued to grow 1, 2, 3, 4 and as the last of the steam poured out from underneath the hides they flew off in the four directions as I watched them disappear into the sky.
At the time I didn’t know that this was unique but as my experience grew I realized then that was when my interest was piqued. I’ve had strange things to do with birds happen multiples of times throughout my life especially black ones.. they seem to be near me and almost always flying. I was once told that being drunk or high Would send my spirit away from me. I’ve been experimenting with different plant medicines. And I’ve noticed that the more I pay attention the more the raven and the magpie seem to visit me or enter my field of vision or caw as they swoop past to get my attention. I can’t speak on what this means. I’ve always considered myself an agnostic.
Never really able to ascribe as my belief would always falter.
Never able to fully call God my Father. Never able to believe that I’ve lived lives before this one. But I can say the most powerful spiritual experiences I have ever had have been with animals and with the smell of sweet grass in the air. With my focus on the positive as I voice my appreciation through prayer. Or maybe just through vocalizing my thanks.. over and over and over and over..
The Bus Stop
Artisan with an artists’ hand. Hammering down rhyme schemes with my yammering slam. Putting these speakers through their paces solely with the vocals. Subconscience Renegade in it for the I told you not so so’s. Making sense of things that don’t, Doing it to disrupt the status quo bro’s. I won’t accept reality as it is because I mostly live without having to show those. Deeper feelings and thoughts that I always write about. Checking my space realize my place is filled with ancestors routes.
One stop closer to my reality change, Don’t have enough to get on the bus of the “it doesn’t matter” pain. Enough coal in my hearts furnace to make burning steam out of the rain, Forget it. Most don’t listen deep enough to truly get these, Words I stream like dialogue in movies from the 60’s. Crackling with sounds of overloaded microphones, feed back whine and turpentine enough to soak the proverbial cloaks of blokes who’ve told enough of the back then jokes that the metaphor can truly abhor when thrown into galactic spokes. Do you catch the meaning? If so it would impress me just the same. As the looking glass that turned so fast that the rhythm of the speaking tongue got turned on those who claim. That to look for lessons in the past is just more of the same, Lessons that we’ve been taught before but now require a name, So we don’t forget the knowledge passed by the experiences we’ve obtained.
The Bus Stop
Your last stop is on the north end of the park. You know the drill, Foundster!