Poetry by Edgar Pitts

Grandma
By: Edgar “G Bam Xango” Pitts

My Grandma came to me in my dream; in which I was sleeping. She woke me up by calling my name, “Pun Pun wake up.” She had nicknamed me “Pun” as a newborn and it carried more significance and love than my official name; especially when it was her calling my name in her sublime Caribbean accented voice.

I open my eyes to see her smiling face. Her hair was grey, natural and corn rowed. Her black skin had a beautiful glow. I said, “I’m up Mama.”

She said, “I come fi tek yo to the market with mi. Yo wa go?”

I answered, “No, Mama, mi no wa go”, which was strange because as a child I used to throw a fit when she would refuse to take me to the market with her. I loved the tropical fruits like gold plum and mango that she would either buy for me, or that I would receive from the vendors who were my Grandmother’s friends of a distant relative of some sort.

My Grandmother asked, “Yo sure yo no wa go?”

“Yes, Mama, mi sure mi no wa go.”

She said with her usual beautiful smile, “Alright then baby.”

She then asked me, “Yo like mi dress?”

Her dress was white, sleeveless and reached right below her knees. It was covered with designs of various colors of flowers, which complimented her angelic and joyful presence.

I answered, “Yes, I like yo dress Mama, it’s pretty.”

She replied gleefully as she walked away into paradise, her afterlife, “Thank yo baby; I gwine now, so don’t forget to take care of yo self Pun.”

Crossroad
By Edgar “G Bam Xango” Pitts

My brothers and I were all standing at what resembled a crossroad. We were all talking about something that had our complete attention. There were four of us standing there.

But for the streetlights that were off in the distance, the night was dark.

Then, suddenly, out of nowhere came this person wearing a hoodie and dressed in all black. His face was concealed by darkness. He had handguns in both hands; running toward us with great speed, shooting as if he was an assassin, a messenger of death who was paid to wipe us off the face of the earth.

At the sight and the sound of the gunfire, we immediately ran our separate ways, with the assassin giving chase to me. He was firing his guns in quick succession but missing his target. Unable to hit me, he gave up chase and ran in the opposite direction, away from me.

With the safety of my brothers in mind, I went searching for them. I found one of my brothers lying in the alley, dead. His body was cold and stiff as if rigor mortis had already set in. I grabbed him and began to cry with anger.

I then woke up in the ADX cell I was caged in.

Prison
By Edgar “G Bam Xango” Pitts

I had a beautiful vision that made me smile. While sitting in the prison cell that I was caged in, a picture suddenly flashed in my mind. In this picture, the prison that held me captive lay in ruins.

The gun towers were all collapsed as if a giant had kicked them over. The walls were all broken down as if they had bowed in submission to time. The glass windows were all shattered as if someone had deliberately taken aim and stoned every single one of them out. The barbed wire fences were all covered with grass, vines and bushes that defeated their purpose. The bars were all rusty and appeared brittle as if they could be crumbled with bare hands.

Instead of prisoners roaming the prison yard, there were deer, wolves and birds everywhere. What was conquered by the injustice of man’s ambition was being reclaimed by the justice of nature. The prison that made man do time, couldn’t escape time’s wrath.

This vision made me smile; then it made me laugh, then it made me realize that the prison’s life expectancy far exceeds mine. So, I couldn’t wait for my vision to become a reality. I started to buck the program, to hasten its demise.

The Funeral
By Edgar “G Bam Xango” Pitts

I had a dream I was sleeping, and my brother woke me up. He said, “Pun, wake up. You’re gonna be late for the funeral.”

I asked, “What funeral?”

He answered with a sense of urgency, “Just hurry up man.”

I got dressed. I then walked to the car with him. I got in the passenger side.

He then drove us to a church. When we got to the church, he parked the car and we both got out of the car and walked into the church. When we entered the church, I saw a casket in the aisle directly in front of us. The church was crowded with a lot of familiar and unfamiliar faces and as we walked down the aisle toward the casket, all eyes were on us. The preacher was in the pulpit eulogizing whoever was in the casket.

As we reached the casket, I looked in it and I was shocked to see my brother’s body in the casket, as he stood beside me. I turned and stared at him standing next to me, then I turned and stared at his body in the casket again, trying to make sense of the situation. Then I started to cry and for the last time I stared at him standing next to me. He said, “Man, you cry too much.” He then disappeared from my side, leaving only his body in the casket. I stood there crying.

Other Dimensions
A Collection of My Dreams,
Visions, and Nightmares

A Vision
By Edgar “G-Bam Xango” Pitts

While meditating, I saw a vision.
In this vision a man was standing behind
A large steel gate and it appeared like
he was trapped behind the gate and
was trying desperately to escape.
But the gate was impenetrable, like a cage
so he couldn’t escape.
He then became disturbed and started
to pace back and forth like a caged
lion who wanted to be free.
Then I heard a loud thundering voice
screamed out from heaven,
“He is lying.”
The gate then suddenly burst open
And the man ran away with great
speed where he disappeared into
the distance.

The Earth Quaked
By Edgar “G-Bam Xango” Pitts

In had a dream in which I was walking among buildings that towered into the sky above. I was all alone in what appeared to be an abandoned city.

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, I saw a lady walking towards me. She was dressed in a black dress. But she was too far away so I couldn’t recognize her. As she got close, I realized that she was my mother, which made me smile because I was happy to see her.

At that very instant, the earth started to quake, and the buildings that surrounded me started to crumble. I immediately started to run towards my mother and away from the falling buildings. But I couldn’t reach her because the earth started to open up and she was swallowed by the earth. I tried to save her, but I could not grab her hands. So she disappeared into the hole while everything else continued to crumble around me.

I then woke up, disturbed.

The Snake Pit
By Edgar “G-Bam Xango” Pitts

While meditating I was thrown into a trance in this state I lost all control of my physical body. I couldn’t talk or move.

While in this state, I saw a vision. In this vision I was walking on a road in what seemed like the middle of a jungle. But for the clearing of the road, I was in the midst of tall trees. The sun appeared to be setting so the jungle was getting dark.

While walking through this jungle a giant snake came out of the bushes and began to travel on the same road I was on and was heading in the same direction. The snake was moving faster than I was, so I couldn’t see its head.

With caution I continued on my journey. But I remained on the opposite side of the road to avoid direct contact with this beast.

Then I came to a point on this road where there were many smaller snakes. There were so many of them, that this place resembled a snake pit, which made the road impassable.

In horror I immediately stopped. And as I was about to walk away, the giant snake reappeared. But it was wrapped around and constricting a screaming person that resembled my brother.

Lying beside the road was a shovel, so I instantly ran and grabbed the shovel and ran towards the snake to kill it and save my brother. As I confronted the snake it tried to bite me several times, but it missed each time it tried. I was eventually able to chop and stab the beast with the edge and the point of the shovel until its head finally parted from the rest of its body and rolled away.

I then started to remove the remains of the snake from around my brother’s body. But my brother’s body turned into a snake and swiftly tried to bite me. But it missed. I then instinctively grabbed the shovel and began to stab the snake until it was dead.

And as I looked around to see exactly what was happening around me, I saw all of the other small snakes, along with the giant snake, intertwined into a huge ball rolling down the side of a mountain into what looked like an abyss where they all perished. The road was then cleared of all the snakes, so I was then able to continue my journey.

Child
By Edgar G-BamXango Pitts

Children are so
Amazing; I can’t
Believe that I used
To be one.

Mournings
By Edgar Pitts
March 31, 2022

Wrong decisions
Based on miseducation
Took me down this road
to perdition
Now I’m trapped
in this prison
Of my own making
A true test of my
forbearance
I was forsaken by my
own parents
From a child I’ve always
Asked why
Because I see my peers
With tears in their
eyes
Dying by the hands of
The guys with crooked
eyes
My comrade’s life
I tried to revive
But he died in my arms
with his eyes wide open
And devoid of all
he had hoped in
soaked in his blood
I closed his eyes and
gave him his last hug
His demise opened my eyes
to the lies that streamed
through our minds
like venom
Life is an ultimatum
And I’m alone in the
trenches
In defiance of the injustice
Of my life sentence
But I’m not a victim
of circumstance
I’m a victim of my
own ignorance

So mourn me
while I’m alive
And rejoice with joy
when I die
I see you smiling at me
But I can see the
guile behind your
smile

Physical scars left
Deep psychological
Wounds
I escaped the doom
Of the tomb
But I’ being haunted
By the trauma
I hate msye;f
Because at times
I don’t love my
Mama
So I surround myself
With myself
Like a fortress
I’m in the furnace
Of affliction
Being afflicted
With a psychosis
So excuse my
Approach
If I just sound
Antisocial
I’m just trying
To regain my focus
This is my life’s
Portraint being
Painted on the
Pages of this age
With words of
Pain and rage
I survived the demise
Of my peers
But I’m left with
The heartache and
Tears now I’m cursed with
Survivor’s remorse
That can’t be reversed
By prayers
So this is therapy
Not vanity
Life has cheated me
But I couldn’t escape
Fate’s wrath
Now more than ever
I realize I was on
The wrong path
And my wrongs are
Not yet past
So I’m still in the eye
Of the storm
While trying not
To make the storm
My norm
Another lesson learned

So mourn me
while I’m alive
and rejoice with joy
when I die
I see you smiling
at me
But I can see the
guile behind your
smile

This apparatus that opposes
me is unholy
It holds me captive based on
false testimonies from
flunkies who don’t even
know me
Reality is very lonely
Most folks are superstitious
So they live in fantasies
of religious promises
while the savages
are living lavishly
in palaces
With malice I envision
the destruction of
this dominion
My opinion is lethal
It will outlive me
and liberate my people
There will be no sequel
to this evil
My body is only a vehicle
But within resides
the spirit of a rebel
that is immortal
I’m an eternal Souljah
out to take or be taken
over by the evils of
this new world order
which infrastructure
is structured with
the nature of a
vulture
I’m being held hostage
in the torture
chambers of America
My back is against
the wall like the
brothers in Attica

So mourn me while
I’m alive and
rejoice with joy
when I die
I see you smiling at
me
But I can see the
guile behind
your smile

Lucky Strike
By Edgar Pitts

In Belize the nights
Have no rivals
The sun welcomes its approach
And gracefully retreats
To fulfill its other treaties
Leaving the moon and the stars
To compliment the darkness
That blanket the land
With uniformity
Bringing a feeling of serenity
To the residents of this
Lucky Strike
Community
Where my family tree
Have its roots
The moon and the stars were the ones to set the mood
Because there were no electric lights
Just oil lamps, fireflies and flashlights
And bonfires to repel the mosquitos
Grandpa waited for the bolero
While sitting with my Grandma
On the Veranda watching us children play
In the twilight around the bonfire
Until we were tired.
Then we would sit next
To our Grandparents
And imbibe their Lullabies
That was coded with lessons
That gave eternal blessings
All reminiscent of Mama Africa.

Mama
By Edgar Pitts

As a child I lived on a farm
In Belize where the breeze
Have motherly instincts
With lips
And she used to kiss us
With it like my grandma
Would do
Where the fruit trees have
Spirts and when the breeze
Blow on their leaves
We could hear them singing
Praises to the ages
Where the sun has eyes
And the moon does too
And together they kept
Caring eyes on us like our
Grandparents would do
My Grandparents had many Grandchildren
We lived in a little house
That was too small to be
Called a building
But too loving not to be
Our mansion
My Grandma had the vision
My Grandpa had the mission
They sat us children down
And made us listen to their wisdom
They gave us chores to strengthen
Our morals
We reaped what our Grandpa sowed
Gave it to Grandma
And she turned corn into porridge,
Fritters and bread
And made sure the whole family was fed
There were eight heads
With only three beds
Yet we slept deeply
And dreamt greatly
And rose daily to find Grandma
Already in the kitchen to greet
Us with kisses that were more
Nutritious than her delicious dishes.

Neglect 
By Edgar PittsNeglect is like a noose
Around the neck of a
Relationship
As the neglect increase
The noose tightens
Hope dims
Efforts fade
As the sad reality slowly
Cascades and drench your
Lonely mind with truths
That can’t be concealed by desmans
Because love progessed
But not invested in
Amount to neglect
That suffocates
The relationship with contradictions
That only magnify the distinction
Between love and hate
So once the alienation is realized
Love subsides and hate is elevated
As the relationship slowly suffocates
As it is left hanging by its neck
And all attempts to revive itself
Only hasten its demise by the
Strangling effect of broken promises
And deceptive apologies
All cloaked in lies
To justify the neglect.Bird
By Edgar PittsPut my soul in a bird
And let it fly away;
Let my flesh remain in
This atmosphere to decay.
Put my memories in a bird
And let it fly away;
Leave my physical possessions
Behind.
Put my consciousness in a bird
And let it fly away;
Throw my trophies away.
Put my spirit in a bird
And let it fly away;
Let all my appeals and prayers
To live another day fade away.
Let my soul,
My memories,
My consciousness
And my spirit be free.
Why should they suffer
Because of me?
I would rather live the life of a bird
Than to be a prisoner always.
I would rather spend my days
Soaring the heights of the sky
Than to be waiting
In a prison cell to die.

American Carnage
By Edgar Pitts

Trump is all about the rubles
He doesn’t give a damn about
The people.
Trump is the stripper
And Putin and the oligarchs
Are making it rain;
While Trump is bending over
And genuflecting
In acrobatic postures
To refrain from speaking
Truth to Power to his spy
Masters in the Kremlin.
So much for American
Exceptionalism.
Trump’s secrets give Putin
The leverage
Putin is now holding the
Leader of the Free World
Hostage
Now that is what I call an
“American Carnage”
Trump may be vulnerable
But he is definitely
Not a virgin
He has always been open
For business
He doesn’t hold
Anything sacred
He would even sell the
Declaration of Independence
If the price was right and
He could get away with it.
Because he has a fetish
For the profit; so he defy
The teachings of the
Prophets and fornicate
With the nations; yet in
The name of the prophets
He professes to be the
Healing of the nation.

Trump is all about the
Rubles. He doesn’t give a
Damn about the people.

Isn’t it ironic that it was
This Siberian Candidate
Who demanded that Obama
Produce his Birth Certificate
But the irony only revealed
The masquerade
Because whenever there is
A crisis of ideas Patriotism
Is always trumped by
Finance so the
“Make America Great Again” merchandise
Is being made in China
While in America
The irony is more obvious
Than ever
Because Trump is now
Using the American flag
To divide and conquer
So Colin Kaepernick
Was scapegoated as being
Unpatriotic for speaking up for the less fortunate
Trump’s hypocrisy is now
Evident
Because Gold Star parents
Sacrificed their children
For the country
While Trump and his
Children are sacrificing
The country for their
Country club.

Trump is all about the Rubles
He doesn’t give a damn
About the people.

White privilege gives Trump
The leverage to be treasonous
While masquerading to be a
Patriot
Because Patriotism is the Perfect
Trojan Horse for False Prophets
And all False Prophets needs a
High Horse to ride while
They deride others to divide
Each from the other to become
Their puppet master
So Trump’s voters look at him
And see a Savior
But Trump look at them
And see nothing but peasants
To be used like puppets
Because in Trump’s eyes
Peasants don’t qualify
To be members of his
Country Club
Yet members of his Country
Club don’t put the country
First.
Instead they want to turn
The world into their golf
Course without borders
And wall us in with the
Racist mantra of
“Law and Order”
To prolong the racist saga
Of the prevailing order
But this Trump scam
Will begin to crumble
With Trump defecting
To Russia right into
The hands of handlers.Solace
By Edgar PittsYour mind is as enticing
As you’re attractive appearance;
It’s curvaceous features are intriguing;
Like the pages of a suspense novel
With it’s alluring adventures
Waiting in the shadow off your every word.
And I feel like a soldier
In your presence;
Eager to explore your essence;
Eager to unveil your soul;
To behold the delight of its depth;
The charm of its dimension;
And the comfort of its warm embrace.
But not to linger on its edges;
But to plunge into its core
Like an explorer;
To vibe mind-to-mind with you.
And invite you to ride my mind’s vine;
To climb its length with your curiosity;
To squeeze its with with your desire;
To embrace its entirety with your passion;
And be enraptured by its climatic
Release of enlightenment.
So that we may treasure
Each other’s full measure.
And there will be no regrets
In our endevors;
Nor any guilt in our pleasures.
And like a feather blowing in the wind
We’ll be carried away
By this sweet occasion;
Our soul vacation.
And like refugees
We’ll take refuge in the Oasis
Of each other’s mind;
Where we’ll find solace
In the midst of this
Desolate world.
BeliZean Food
By Edgar Pitts

I remember your
Beautiful body like
I remember my way home
And like home
I reminisce about
It’s tenderness/
About its sweet caress
That use to leave me
Breathless whenever
we use to be in each others
warm embrace;
It’s a warmth that I miss
Like I miss my favorite
Blanket;
The blanket that we use
To cuddle under as we
Enjoyed each others
Treasures with hugs,
Kisses and pledges of
Love that climaxed
Into our mutual pleasure
That I now yearn for
Like I hunger for my
Favorite dish;
And like that good home
Cooked Belizean food
That is prepared from scratch
Baby I have a taste for you.
Because like this prison food
My life has been bland
Without you.
So I need your spice
To excite me;
I need your pepper
To revive me;
I need your ginger
To make me stronger;
And I need your honey
Because I have a sweet
Tooth for your.
So at the end of my
Odyssey we’ll
Rendezvous like Okra
And plantain in a pot
Of stew;
Then I’ll indulge my
Taste buds
In you.

You
By Edgar Pitts

I want to tell you something
That means the world to me;
But it might mean absolutely
nothing to you.
It is something that I value;
But you may have a different
View of it.
You may even say that it is
Inappropriate to be expressed;
But we both know that’s just semantics.
Because denial of it can’t
And won’t change it’s essence;
It is spiritual and flawless
It takes rest and erase
All prejudice;
And sweet lady that is never
Inappropriate to express.
I’ve been dying to talk to you,
Not the you who they
Pay you to be,
But the you who you truly are;
The you that shines from beneath
Your facade of protocol
Like a star;
The you that illuminates
My dark and dreary days
And turn them into sunny
And tropical moments
Whenever I see you.
The you that speaks sweetly
To me with your silent starr
and your inquisitive gaze/
The you that sets off flares
In my mind whenever
I’m near you.
The you that don’t comply
With your mouth;
Because what your mouth
Refuse to say,
Your enticing eyes
Your seductive body
And your electric vibe
Reveals to my receptive mind.
Because your presence
Fascinates me;
And your soul delights;
And your eyes have me
Mesmerized by signals
Of your yearnings
That can’t be concealed
By denials.
I don’t mean to pry into
The sanctum of your mind,
But your vibe is telling me
“Seek and you shall find”
So I want to tell you
Something that means
The word to me;
But it might mean
Absolutely nothing
To you …

Malcolm X
By Edgar Pitts

Who did what
Who called the shot?
I just don’t know
All I know is that it
Shouldn’t have been so
Malcolm should have lived
Until he was a thousand years
Old or even more
Some say that it was the cointelpro
Of that I’m sure
But what made negroes
Gun down our hero
And turn around and practice passive resistance against a savage
Who threatens our very existence
While Malcolm was plotting a resistance against the nemesis
These imbeciles was plotting
Against the shining prince
They’re worse than Judas
Because Judas had a conscience
So he committed suicide after
Treacherous action
But after the treason
These Judas are still breathing
Why don’t they just die
And make us rejoice with joy
non -believers disguised in black skin
Sabotaging the struggle
That they don’t believe in
So they use their skin to deceive men

Niggas killed Malcolm X and
Niggas will probably kill me too

You got to be naive to believe
You can determine friend
From foe
Just based on skin color alone
And not by the content
Of the character
I see the niggas
But where are my brothers at
Bob Marley said that they sold
Marcus Gravey for rice
Then they ambushed Bob Marley in the right
They say the eyes never lie
But experience tells me
That they don’t always
Tell the truth
Niggas killed Malcolm X
And niggas will probably
Kill me too
Huey Newton was still an asset
Yet slugs put him in his
Casket while agent
Provocateurs that deserve
Death remain in our midst
Misfits in position of
Leadership navigating the
Lives of the less fortunate
The blind leading the blind
Now we can’t find our way
out of this maze that got
Us trapped and strapped
With guns that we only
Aim at blacks

Niggas killed Malcolm X and
Niggas will probably kill me too

I’m analyzing this self hatred
Wondering why this black life
Of mines ain’t considered sacred
In a blink of an eye a nigga
Would lay me dead on the pavement
But if my pigment was white
A nigga would think twice
Fifty times before he contemplates
Homicide
I’ve stared into the eyes of
These boys who claim to be
Real men and I’ve seen the fear that paralyze
The fear that makes them
Throw away their weapons
When the cops hit the intersection
We’re conditioned for submission
So the prisons are full of blacks
Who hate blacks and backstab
Each other because they’re
Petrified of the real nemesis
Life sentences and these fools
are complacent with just being
Jailhouse celebrities
All is vanity
Buy up the commissary
And live good in the penitentiary
While we’re becoming liabilities
To our families
Where is the sanity

Niggas killed Malcolm X and
Niggas will probably kill me too

Through the Noise
By Edgar Pitts

When will this all end?
The experiments, the fences
The evil behind the smiling faces
The guard in the gun tower
Who is watching us through
His binocular with his finger on the trigger
The counts that remind us that
We’re nothing but a number
When will this all end?

The feds took our freedom
Then our dominion based on
Bogus convictions
Then they told us that we
Can’t have a woman
The only thing they left us
With is an opinion that if
We express they will label
Us as a threat
And lock us down at the ADX
And put us on a range with
Derange fools who don’t even
Know their own names
And with fools who try to gain
Fame off a next man’s pain
And with cell soldiers
Who spit venom from the safety
of their single cell
At good men with life
sentences who know who
The true nemesis is
But all through the noise
We remain silent
And restrain the violence
Because the environment
Is nothing but an experiment
By the government to get
Data to use against us later

When will this all end?
The experiments, the fences
The evil behind the smiling faces
The guard in the gun tower
Who is watching us through
His binocular with his finger on the trigger
The counts that remind us that
We’re nothing but a number
When will this all end?

How could it be that I’m
in the penitentiary doing life
While my potential wife face
This cold, cold world without me
I’m suppose to be the man of
The family
The sole provider
The one to satisfy her
the breadwinner
Instead the feds got me
In the ADX
Stuck in a concrete casket
Being fed rotten lettuce
And treated like a savage
The stress is hard to manage
So I try to make exercise
A habit
But some days are worst
Than the others trying to stay away from
The undercovers
The backstabbing vultures
That voted me off the island
Like survivor
Because here at the ADX
The fools who profess
To be soldiers
Be the ones that sing like Mariah
But thoughts of someday
Holding my love again
Keeps me anchored
To my sanity
This is purgatory
No serenity in the midst
Of all the treachery
But these fools aren’t machiavellis
They’re just trapped and
deceived by their own
Vanity

When will this all end?
The experiments, the fences
The evil behind the smiling faces
The guards in the gun
Tower who is watching
Us through his binocular
With his finger on the trigger
The counts that remind us
That we’re nothing but a number.
When will this all end

He was arrested in development
As an adolescent
He never smelled the sweet scent of a woman
He never enjoyed her joy
So he finds it hard to look
A woman in the eyes
His world is porn
A synthetic escape
In prison he is not even
A clone of his full potential
The injustice of this practice
Is intentional
Degenerates in congress
who cross dress
Pass laws to enlarge
The same sex environment
And turn testosterone
To estrogen
And Estrogen to testosterone
To defeat the insurgent spirit
And make convicts complacent
With playing jailhouse politics
The real world then becomes irrelevant

It’s sort of like that movie
The Village
When the Myth of monsters
in the forest keep the people
Hostage to their own ignorance
Some convicts no longer speak
Of freedom
It lulls them to sleep
Instead they would rather
Talk about soaps and play
Sports
Those kinds are doomed
Their mind is their own tombs

When will it all end:
The experiments, the fences
The evil behind the smiling faces
The guard in the gun tower
who is watching us through his binoculars.
With his finger on the trigger
The counts that remind us that
We’re nothing but a number
When will this all end?

Fate
By Edgar Pitts

Dear sweet Lady
Do you believe in fate?
Do you believe that
There is a force at work,
Working to bring complete
Strangers together to turn
Them into friends
Or something stronger?
I ask this question because
I’m sitting here in this lonely
Cell with a void in my heart
It’s a void that I’ve been
Ignoring at the price of
Sleepless nights
Trying to convince myself
That all I need is,
“a crust of bread and
a corner to sleep in,
a moment to laugh
and an hour to weep in.”
But the fact that I’m now
Writing you demonstrates
That I was wrong
Because like it was said
“Man does not live by bread alone.”
So what I’m seeking in you
Is what I have to give
And that’s a sincere heart
And an appreciative soul
And in this cold, cold world
These attributes are more
precious than diamond or gold
So as I unfold the scroll
Off my mind before your eyes
I hope you would recognize
In me what I already recognized in you
So excuse me sweet lady
If I may sound possessive
When I say that there is a quality in you that I must
Possess and claim as my own
It glows like gold
And it has possessed
My own soul
It emerge from your core
To illuminate who you truly are like a star
I know that my claim
May sound absurd because
I hardly know your name
Nevertheless
I couldn’t deny the zest
That you’ve impressed on
My mind with just your voice
So I’m confessing my affection
That was inspired by a desire
That ignited a fire in my soul
That burns for you
Yes baby it’s
“Fire and desire”
And the heat of the attraction
Is so intense I couldn’t exercise
Restraint
So I’m expressing myself to you at the risk
Of sounding like a fool
But whether I’m a fool
Or not
I couldn’t deny the sublime vibe
That have me feeling so alive
whenever I’m able to look
Into your beautiful eyes
I couldn’t resist the magnetism
Of your spirit that captivated
Mines despite of the distance
Between us
I couldn’t ignore the potential
Of the moment that is pregnant
With promises of joy, passion
And satisfaction
And even though I’ve already
Said a lot I could never say
Too much to leave nothing
For your imagination
Because I believe that this
moment was written
In the constellations
So what’s left to be said
Is immense
But what’s left to be done
is even more profound
So don’t take my words
For granted
Because this is more
Than a pick up line
That is designed
To mesmerize you with words
Instead this is a well defined
Expression of my soul
To your soul
Soul to soul
So my answer to the question
Posed is
Yes I believe in fate
Yes I believe that there’s
A force at work,
Working to bring us together
So baby tell me

What do you believe?

Mystique
By Edgar Pitts

What I don’t know about you
Is just as enticing
As what I do know; Because what I don’t know
Is glowing like a star
In the night sky
That fill my mind with wonder.
So reveal yourself to me by degrees
Like a striptease;
Because your mystique intrigues me;
But to keep me intrigued
Baby you’re gonna have to feed me what
I need;
And what I need is for you to reciprocate
The interest and the need that I’m showing
You.
So open your mind to mines;
And invite me into your world
To dignify my existence with yours.

Massage
By Edgar Pitts

Baby let me massage
Your mind with mines.
So close your eyes and open your mind;
And feel my warm hands
Rubbing the stress
Out of your thoughts,
With pure warmth and affection;
Feel my fingers squeezing the worries
Out of your mind with complete adoration
And appreciation of your divine being;
Bringing calm to your commotion.
This is the true definition
Of undivided attention;
Because you’re the sole object
Of my affection.
Baby let me massage
Your mind with mines
Until your body temperature rise;
Until your aches and pain subsides;
Bringing relaxation down your spine;
And opening your mind’s eyes to my truth.
Sooting what needs to be soothed;
Touching what needs to be touched;
Caressing what needs to be caressed.
So let me kiss your mind’s lips with mine’s;
Let me stare into your mind’s eyes with mines
Let me whisper in your mind’s ears
With words of sincere worth
That I adore you;
That I appreciate you;
That I need you.
Baby let me massage
Your mind with mines.
Listen to my whispers in your ear;
Let it penetrate the surface;
And sink deep into your mind
To awaken the dormant joy
That’s waiting to be enjoyed
Baby let me massage
Your mind with mines.
Let me penetrate your depths/
Where you remain untouched
Like buried jewels;
And untapped fuel.
Baby this is what I call
Soul searching.
So baby I wanna explore and adore
What has been ignored;
I want to bless what has been neglected;

I wanna appreciate
What has been taken for granted.
Baby let me massage
Your mind with mines.
Let me pour words like warm oil
Down your spine of your mind;
And massage it into your soft sin
Until it relieves the tension
Deep down in your muscles.
BEcause I know that after a long day
Of the hustle and bustle
You just want to relax
And be catered to.
So baby let me massage
Your mind with mines …

The New Cross
By Edgar Pitts

Democracy is the new cross
For the west
In the past the West conquered
Under the sign of the cross.
But Christianity is now in retreat
And the prestige of the cross is now lost.
So the new cross is Democracy
Where they claim the people rule
But the food
The schools
And the tools of production are in the hands of a few.
Now the people are made to be fools
By the schools
And are kept hungry due
To manufactured poverty
Then they are told what to do
By this few who use democracy
As a tool to rule
It’s a subtle evil
The vehicle they use to rule
Is the ignorance of the people
Democracy is the new cross for
The West

The Gospel According to Nat Turner
By Edgar Pitts

Births hurt
I know because I see the wars
And the blood that pours
When the poor declares that they’re
Determined to be poor no more
I see the women mourning the fruits
Of their wombs at the tombs of their
Doomed children
The truth hurts the one who is bold
Enough to reveal it
So many conceal it like the Pharisees
And use religion as a fig leaf to deceive
The masses with promises that vanishes
Like the morning dew at sun rise
But from among the people only a few rise
While the cry for justice fall on deaf ears
Fears not confronted grows into mountains
But they say that faith moves mountains
So I’m drinking holy water from the fountain of the rock that was cracked by Moses
Baptized to be chosen in the furnace
Of affliction of the middle passage
By a savage people who will never see us
As their equals
They crucified Jesus then change his
Facial features to resemble the creatures
That slaughtered our ancestors

They crucified the Dread
So I’m gonna crucify this verse
With this teachings

This is the Gospel according to
Nat Turner, Sojourner and all the other Souljahs
Who envisioned us before we were fetuses
And taught us through the ages on pages
In and out of cages
From the slave ship to the gallows
About this evil apparatus that oppose us
Judas sold Jesus for thirty pieces
Of silver
And they sold us for liquor
And gunpowder
The similarities are so profound
I can’t be wrong
When I say that I was lost
Now Im found
And I still stand above ground
Behind enemy lines in defiance
Of all the lies
As I watch my foes shout crucify him
I count my blessings then  I scream out
To the heavens:
“Lord forgive them not for they
Know exactly what they do.”
So I violated their curfews
And when faced with danger
I still speak truth to power
Or be devoured like Jonah
By the storm of his life
That’s why I need a Sista like ISIS
For my wife who knows how to face crisis
When the strife gets too hectic

They crucified the Dread
So I’m gonna crucify this verse
With his teachings

Treachery perfected
And taken for virtue
Stains the soul like mildew
The whole world is subdued

And placed under a curfew by a few who have
Allied themselves with the reptiles
The night sky is dotted by satellites
That intercept the light of the stars
Darkness now prevails
And jails multiplies
The senses deprived of human contact
The soul permanently scarred
I see the deceived masses giving applause
To the speeches of demagogues
Trying to quench their thirst
By drinking water from a mirage
Being bombarded with a barrage
Of counter intelligence propaganda
There’s no more vacancy at Hotel Rwanda
The CIA killed Lumumba
They said Jesus said
That we must give to Cesar
What belongs to Cesar
But I don’t believe the preacher
So I say we should get Cesar
And silence the preacher
Unless he’s preaching
The Gospel according to
Nat Turner …

Love Again
By Edgar Pitts

You’ve turned your back on me
And it’s best that you keep it turned
You owe me no explanation
Or apology
Nor do I want any
You had the upper hand
And instead of giving me a hand
You used it to slap me down
Who you are is not who you say you are
But who you are is who you show you are
We can all claim to be stars
But as long as the darkness prevails
We are nothing but shadows lost
In a maze of constant sorrows
The days are full of illusions
Constant deception from those I accepted
As friends
No need to make amends
Because a man like me can’t trust again
My people will always be my people
But evil don’t get no sequel
And I see the treachery in your features
So I just can see you in my future
These words are not to soothe your pain
They’re to release us from our common shame
Then I might be able to love again

Beauty and the Convict

By Edgar Pitts

Beauty and the Convict

She is the Beauty

He is the Convict

She is the Goddess

And he is the Menace

She was baptized

And he was demonized

And criminalized by this society

Two unlikely candidates for love

Brought together by destiny

And sparked a controversy

their rendezvous is taboo

But their love is etched

On their hearts like

Matching tattoos

Her sacrifice is the greatest

She gives more than she takes

She visits him at the prison

Where they speak of their

Vision of love

And past heartbreaks

Their oblivious to the prejudice

Of the world

Caught up in the rapture

And keeping eye contact

Until their visit is over

Her friends don’t understand

Her stand

They’re trying to convince her

To leave her man

But she stands firm and

Unconcerned with their opinions

Her love revives his mind

And it radiates through his eyes

He is now redefining

His way of life

Finding light where there

Was darkness

Love where there was hatred

So he now hold life sacred

At night he writes her love

letters while staring at her

pictures on the wall

He is now rising from his fall

She brings him new meaning

 to old songs he cherish her words and

Read them like psalms

She is so gorgeous

So the prison guards are mad

And envious to see her

Visiting a convict that

Is so notorious

Beauty and the convict

She is the beauty

He is the convict

She is the Goddess

And he is the Menace

She was baptized and

He was demonized and

Criminalized by this society

Two unlikely candidates

For love brought together

By destiny and sparked at

Controversy

His plight keeps here up at night

His fight is now her fight

So the politics of the injustice

Makes her think politically

The Penitentiary is now

Her enemy

The obstacle that is keeping her

from building a family

Like slavery did to Harriet

And Dangerfield newby

She wants to have his baby

And even though she is still

Young she can hear her

Biological clock ticking

Her maternal instinct

Is kicking in

But the time he is doing

Is too wide to get across

Too low to get under

And too high to get over

So she got a loan

From a sympathetic friend

And got a lawyer

And a private investigator

To uncover new evidence

Of his innocence

At their visit she tells him

About her endeavor

But after so many appeals

Being denied all he could do

Was smile

But he wasn’t surprised

Because he could see the

Sincere love in her eyes

And even though he didn’t

Have any faith in the system

He had faith in her persistence

So he allowed her to continue

With her mission

And in the meantime he continued

To indulge himself in her mind

Enjoying her joy

Because before her his soul

Was on ice

Until he saw her face

And heard her voice

Beauty and the convict

She is the beauty

He is the convict

She is the Goddess

And he is the Menace

She was baptized and

He was demonized and

Criminalized by this society

Two unlikely candidates

For love brought together

By destiny and sparked a Controversy

That evening when their

Visit was over they kissed

Each other goodbye

Then they was dismissed

By a guard with an evil smile

But he held and kissed her

Until the last second

Until their fingertips

no longer touched

Until the steel door slammed shut

With her sweet smell still

In his nostrils he went

Back to the hell of his lonely cell

With her hopes and dreams

She drove off into the

Twilight listening to her

Screaming heart feeling

The pain from being apart

Her thoughts were interrupted

By a police car pulling her over

As the cop got closer she

Realized that it was the guard

With the evil smile

She asked why did she get

Pulled over

He said that she exceeded

The speed limit

So she will get a ticket

But in an instance

He started to ask about

Her visit

And what was a beautiful

Lady like her doing visiting

A convict that wasn’t worth shit

She had to restrain herself

When she told him

“It’s none of your damn business

Write the ticket or let me go.”

He was angry and it showed

But her love for the convict

was real and it glowed

So he realized that his

Mischief was useless

So he let her go

Without even writing a ticket

Beauty and the convict

She is the beauty

He is the convict

She is the Goddess

And he is the Menace

She was baptized and

He was demonized and

Criminalized by this society

Two unlikely candidates

For love brought together by destiny

and sparked a Controversy

          Love is most often a defiant act!

To be continued….

By Edgar Pitts

I could speak with a voice

Thats as smooth as silk;

And just as fluid as milk;

To entice you to be mine;

To invite you into my mind;

Where I too am naked.

And I’m pretty sure I could find

Words that glow like gold

To express what’s in my soul.

But what needs to be said

About love has already been said before;

So I’m not gonna exploit love anymore;

Instead I want you

To reflect on my deeds,

Seed by seed,

Element by every single element,

Strip me naked like a psychotherapist.

And if you find any evidence

That contradicts my love for you,

Then Baby I don’t deserve you.

But I’ve made it quite clear

The moment I declared my feelings

For you that it’s pure, honest and

Without prejudice.

So don’t for one second think

That I’m taking you for granted;

Because I’m no hypocrite.

For me the sex was never casual;

To me it was always spiritual;

Something sacred and immaculate.

Because that’s what I see;

That’s what I feel

Whenever I’m around you.

I see you

With eyes of penetrating

Interest.

So when I have you to myself

Time is never of the essence;

Because joy becomes enjoyment

And time becomes irrelevant.

And undressing you always

Becomes a special event;

To adore your body

That is adorned in the best of flesh;

Tight and folded;

And sweet to caress;

With curves that rises to peaks

And dips into a sacred valley

Of lilies; to soft and hollow places

Of Oasis And I’m like Roses standing

Before the burning bush;

I’m in awe;

And burning with desire for you

And the day after

I’m always there;

Holding you near;

Trying to dispel your fears;

Whispering in your ear that

“I’m not going nowhere.”

Yet you’re still suspicious of me;

And remain locked like a fortress;

And won’t let me penetrate below

The surface of your mind.

You share your body with me;

But not your dreams;

And that’s like dying of thirst

Next to a running stream.

I heard you screaming;

I want to make your nightmares mines

And slay your demons;

But at times you make me feel

Like I’m the demon.

Yes, your body has me dreaming;

But it’s your mind that has me fiending

I wanna enjoy your joy;

I wanna impregnate your mind

With mines; and yours mines;

And give birth to a nude mind/

That isn’t cloaked in self doubt,

Fear and insecurity.

Because to see you naked. Is just a finite act

In an infinite action of who

You truly are.

Particles of stars are in your eyes;

But as beautiful as you are

Stars still fall.

So who are you beyond your flesh;

Beyond what I can touch;

Beyond what makes my eyes smile;
Beyond what makes me lust;

Beyond what makes me explode in joy;

Beyond what will return to dust;

Tell me Baby

Who are you?

By Edgar Pitts

Do you know what hurts the most

About being locked up for life behind bars?

It’s the stars that I see

That I could have reached

I’s the recognition of my potential

That sparkled my ambition

And even though I’m behind walls

That stand tall

My vision makes me see further

In my mind I’m an explorer

But the reality of the steel doors

won’t let me venture into my odysseys

So I exist in a constant state of misery

Dying to be free

In deep sleep I have dreams of making

Sweet love to a queen

It’s so real it makes me oblivious to the obvious

And for a moment I feel like I’m in heaven

With an angel for a girlfriend

Then as the sleep flees I awake to the

Nightmare of my reality

The concrete walls and the steel bars

Make me scream

And the emotional scars are so deep

It feels like I’ve been locked away an eternity

Now I know that a woman is the blessing of liberty

And this isolation makes me feel so lonely

Like a captive in purgatory

By Edgar Pitts

It’s the 4th of July

And I’m not free

I’m sitting here in limbo

In the bowels of this Penitentiary

This is a man minus his glory

Modern day slavery

Schools are not profitable enough

The prison industry is bigger business

The hotel for the miseducated ones of society

Warehousing human beings like commodities

It’s good for the economy

Illiteracy is a tool to make more money

Give the poor lobotomies

And lead them like zombies

Directly to the penitentiary cells

Where cheap labor sells for 20 cents an hour

This attracts corporations like corpses attract vultures

Overseers stand on guard in gun towers

With rifles to stifle all rebellions

And keep the slaves slaving on the plantations

They seek justification for this holocaust

In lost cause of fraud and pass flawed laws

That have clause like hawks

While the sharks racially profile

And round up men, women and child

In a single file line to be confined

Justice in denial

They turn brothers into rivals

To testify against each other at trials

One gets life behind bars

While the other walks the green mile

It’s the 4th of July

And I’m not free

I’m sitting here in limbo

In the bowels of this Penitentiary

This is a man minus his glory

Modern day slavery

A prisoner’s life often depends

On the ink in the pen

That is in the hands of crooked men

Who have their own interest to protect

To remain on the bench

Indigent convicts often fall victims

To this conflict of interest

To society he is the scum of the earth

Who should have been aborted before birth

The whole world debate over his fate

No right to procreate

Stagnated

An object of intense hatred

His life is no longer considered sacred

Strip searches

Vultures feasting off the carcass of the ignorant

Convicts remain under constant surveillance

Getting rushed around like migrants

It’s man minus his glory

A victim of gestapo like policies

Freedom justice and equality

Is only a fallacy in this democracy

It’s the 4th of July

And I’m not free

I’m sitting here in limbo

In the bowels of this Penitentiary

This is a man minus his glory

Modern day slavery

I’ve seen many become complacent

In this synthetic environment

Some try to rationalize this experiment

So they surrender their minds to become

Institutionalized and remain confined

Behind enemy lines and partake in the stereotypical

Behaviours of their neighbors

Some get religious and wait for a savior

Others become jailhouse informants

In exchange for favors from the slave master

Others become jailhouse predators

And extort the weak

They expose the secrets that lay hidden

Beneath and tighten the grip on their

Victims pockets

To them every man is a potential maggot

Human nature is complex

No two men do time like the next

Some play sports every day

Bouncing their time away

A brief escape from the harsh reality

Of time that’s steering them dead in their faces

Others catch murder cases because of jail

House celebrities that put their lives

In jeopardy by being in grown men’s faces

As for me

I study the flaws in the law and formulate

Arguments that’s able to destroy the content

Of the injustice that’s holding me captive

I’m fighting a war to dismantle these bars

And even when my wounds heal

It will leave me with scars

So no matter how far I get I’ll never forget

That it’s the 4th of July and I’m not free

By Edgar Pitts

An education was the justice I never received.

Miseducation was the tool used to keep the truth concealed.

Unable to perceive the reality.

My ignorance had me living a fantasy.

Sex-ism, race-ism and gangster-ism had me living in the past.

While the enemy is preparing for the next century.

Mystified by his lies

Superstition set in.

His religion given an upper hand

Leaving me under the stand.

While they dance on the world stage

Playing music of the new age

While I still reminisce about the old days stagnated

I hesitated to learn

Now I’m burning in the fire of my ignorance.

I’m miseducated

By Edgar Pitts

It wasn’t my intention

To try and make you cry,

I just wanted you to understand

What kind of man

I am

But if you felt like crying,

Baby let your pen cry;

Let it’s tears fall in between

The lines of your tablet;

Arrange your words like an architect;

And express yourself

To make me feel

What you felt;

Like I made you feel

What I felt.

My pen already wept tears

Of ink that swept away

The blank stare of the pages;

And painted them with words

Of hope, pain and joy;

That gave expression to my soul;

Unfolding the scroll of my mind

Before your very eyes;

Hoping you would realize the depth of my intellect

And invite me to probe yours

By blessing my eyes with your own

Words of hope, pain and joy.

So let your pen cry.

Put her in labor;

And let her deliver

The feelings and emotions

That you have percolating

Below the surface of your mind.

And if I impregnated your mind

With something to think about,

Then that child is mines;

So I’m your Baby’s Daddy. (smile)

So give it to G-Bam Shango

What belongs to G-Bam Shango

Like I’m giving to you what belongs to you.

Because you impregnated

My mind with these lines;

So you’re my Baby’s Mama. (smile)

I hope you appreciate

My sense of humor.

Because I’m trying to secure

A place in your future;

Whether it be just as a friend

Or something stronger.

And that’s not just for

The realm of fantasy;

Because even though I’m

In the penitentiary,

I can still do with my interest in you

What a man is supposed to do

With his presence.

Because I appreciate

Your essence.

And it’s at that depth

That I want us to relate;

At a depth that the average fool

Don’t even know exist.

So I wanna bless

What has been neglected;

Appreciate what has been

Taken from granted; and

Adore what has been ignored;

Because I know

That at your core

Your remain untouched

Like a virgin.

So open your mind

And let me in;

And let me message your mind

With mines;

Until your cherry pops.

And when you do cry

It will be tears

Of joy.

The old tree in the prison yard blocked the view of the guard in the gun tower. The prisoner saw it and took advantage of the hour. He jumped up and fell back down, he got up and tried again, but the wall just kept getting taller, so he couldn’t get over.

A weak prisoner saw his attempt and happily went to inform the guards. The guards came like a stampede of wildebeest and subdued the freedom fighter and took him away. What a shame. Now he’s isolated to a cell behind many steel doors and bars in the segregation housing unit, better known as the hole. This is a cold world.

In the meantime the guards needed someone to blame for the prisoners attempted escape, but the tree was the only one standing around. So they did their estimation and with no hesitation came to their diabolical conclusion. “The tree must go.” The tree that gave calming shade to the prisoners must go. The tree an enemy to captivity and a friend to liberty must go.  The tree that gave calming shade to the prisoners must go. The tree that was the house to varieties of pretty birds must go, the only diversity without violence that the prisoners know.

The birds can’t serenade the prisoners anymore. The tree must go. The birds must now relocate, what a terrible state, but the tree of life must go on.

So limb by limb they cut the tree down.