In the beginning was the Word 
and the Word was with God

And the Word was God, 
God was with Him in the beginning

God- 

the original spoken word poet 

spittin’ prophetic parables 
from the palms of His hands

scribin’ scripture in cumulus clouds 
reigning proverbs on the barren wombs
of infertile mothers

When I die-

I want to be resurrected Jus' as Christ

For God so l?ved the poets of the world 
He gave His only begotten Son 
in iambic pentameter

to atone for the sins 
of Poetic Pharisees

As they stood on Saturn’s shores 
shooting craps
for scraps 
of His tattered clothes

Attempting to conceal truths
of Gnostic gospel heresy 
in the form of nursery rhymes

As the Israelites painted signs 
and formed picket lines 
as they marched on Mt. Zion in protest

I cried...

I cried the night 
they suspended Habeas Corpus 
and crucified Christ 
for His political beliefs

Lynched with His own mic cord 
from the same weeping willows
drenched with the blood 
of my ancestor’s tears

His corpse dangled
like strange fruit 
from platinum chains 
as they spoke my Saviour's name
in vain

With echoes of hallowed praise,
they sacrifice blemished offerings
to false deities 
in the name 
of Hip Hop

In the name of Scott La Rock 
they spoke with forked tongue 

Spinning vinyl scripture 
while break dancing 
in the streets of Babylon

to the beat y’all 
and ya don’t stop

to the beat y’all 
and ya don’t stop

to the beat y’all 
and ya don’t stop

and ya don’t stop 
and ya don’t...

Stop!