Truth is my Compass, & Wisdom my Helm.

I have known demons who had crystals for teeth
And wore glitter for spiritualism as their wreath
But my wisdom is too sharp for the conniving sheath

To clone
Is to own

Without consent —
I lament and resent!

Seeds, DNA, essence
Humans, in a state of obsolescence

Under the firmament
The aura is turbulent

This parasite is insidious and septic
For the future, consider me a skeptic

I was an undercooked boiled egg
My shell cracked too soon
Low heat for seven years
Neither immune or adequately attune
Had to renter the cocoon

Sped up, had to wait for my platoon
Been paying off energetic arrears
Wrote five books, they my soul’s souvenirs
Spirit got me smirking with a sneer
I’m ready for this season of destiny’s premiere

May she who persevere
Reap what no entity dare interfere

Does a pig tell its butcher to bear more humility? Does a sex worker expect her John to value her humanity? Does an indebted post-colonial nation seek to convince the International Monetary Fund that the loans invalidate their sovereignty, and wait for political compassion?

Then why would a doctor care about the side effects to medications that could easily be supplemented with herbs and medicinal nutrition? Like when your doctor says you’re dealing with internalized fatphobia as your psychiatric medications push you towards 300lbs.

They so woke they sleep walking, gaslighting you, and smiling in your face.

The trifecta is Oscar worthy.

But it’s all in your head. Don’t dread the bread, very slowly, the system waits for you to become dead.

Mind, Soul & Flesh…

We are collectively caught in a demented psychic mesh.

If your thoughts are a browser,
Abeg, click refresh!

With my spiritual loom, I weave dreams like a wool sack made of all the wombs that bore my womb, and interlace the threads of destiny with majesty.

I rebuke the compulsion to make a parody of my earthly tenancy.

When you are your own child, what is a pregnancy?

My soul is a mother’s recipe, when all that was served was born of enmity.

I savor my daily feast
Because I became the priest
Who conquered the beast.

Adapt or die!
Where’s the lie?

Crawl or fly?
Unknot ya soul tie!

Discover your marrow’s rings
Unravel your wings

There is wisdom in every cell
We are living pastel

For whom the God’s foretell
In your speech, govern your spell

Whip your tongue upon the sky
Listen for the thunder no man will defy

Your angels sprinkle divine confetti
For you are both regal and zesty

Goddess, you are your own fairy in this tale
Decoding spiritual braille, leave a trail

The truth you shall not curtail
Thine own shadow, one must assail

You conflated a flicker for my concession?

Although capitalism entices evil as a profession, hell is in the midst of a recession!

I merely took a breath to gather my peace for a devout intercession.

You make me cackle!

Although I cannot refute the ponderosity of earth’s demonic shackle, you cannot fathom the rays of light within God’s tabernacle.

Behold, the spectrum of divinity remains beyond your tackle.

Stockholm Syndrome has an allegiance to intergenerational trauma
Propaganda and daily psyops is modern-day political drama

Erasing history?
Turn truth into a mystery!

Playing in my face?
My humor got a tart taste

You goofy!
This a galactic movie…

We playing tennis and you keep moving the net
I am a reserve sniper, no longer a cadet

Then you wanna gaslit and act fret!?
Overriding the programming

You could charge my grave
But it’s my soul you seek to enslave

After realizing that you made a habit of fumbling yourself, you mock God by mumbling a prayer to thyself:

Lord, I am your most favorite child! As such, I am committed to self-correction for it is you I seek to beguile.

In my soul, the magic you have bestowed, the world taught me to revile.

Consider me born again, for I know the workings of the spiritual conmen. Indeed, I have risen— Amen!

‘A leaf headed to heaven;
True is the holy procession’

I implore you to not craft me into a villain in your story. But if you must, please know that when seasons fade we mustn’t become full of jade. Together, we planted seeds with intention, and shared the bounty of our harvest. But in our rapport, I began to experience a vibrational shortage. For there was deep love that could no longer sprout between us. Like stems on a branch, I had to migrate trees. I trust that you will be safe, no matter how turbulent you may find the seas. And as I paddle towards a greater truth and resonance with the divine, I am glad that you and I were once of the same vine.

“The internal dystopian complex supersedes yet complements the ruins our hegemonic system breeds; while collective gaslighting precedes our resistance to accept that which heeds.”

-Zisa Aziza

It’s rather myopic for an individual to steadily climb into a burning tower. You’d be best suited learning to swim with the sharks, your soul you must scour and not deflower. Within you, light the spark and become the ark.

                                                                <|>

Women craving swamp
I never made it in the wetlands
Imma have to trespass, got rerouted by my compass
Declining with reluctance, the dullness is no longer lustrous
Turned me into a spiritual archaeologist
Looking for the healthiest wand
Upon destiny, I paid a bond

Self-inquiry: Ancestral curse necessitated birth control. My vulva, spirit had to patrol! Did all them sick niggas, an antigen, in proximity to my child-body force the production of love’s antibody? Did they embody a spiritual virus, has the womb of my psyche gestated a retrovirus?

                                                                <|>

When the psychiatrist roofies you with an antipsychotic, ensuring your social compliance and docility:

I am spitting out a delusion of tranquility
Adjusting the degrees of my malleability
And redetermining the boundaries of my negotiability

There’s an encoded entropy embedded within hegemony
Call it heresy, but there ain’t no clemency for an otherworldly supremacy
Their secret invasion is guided by a demonic persuasion
The simulation ain’t malfunctioning, deviance is their vocation

I can’t even front
Been underground
Gon’ full circle
Wisdom is round

Liberalism is a sphere
On a rotation, can’t no logic steer
If we sincere and seek to persevere
There’s an air of grandiosity about being queer

Feels like a cheap veneer
A bootleg souvenir
Why I feel like my truth is sought to shear
Got my skin looking raw for the sear
With all of trauma’s gear
I’m laying down my spear

I been clearing my vision
Healing my psyche’s incision

I’ve given medicine to so many parts me
Embodied in the essence of those who share an aspect of me

I have found sharp edges in shallow connections
To identity commodification, respectfully, I announce my defection
Because matching pain or illusion has imperfections and infections that misguide direction

It’s hard to admit, that being black,
And being confused about the time of the clock
Makes it hard to decipher if my anger is a flock
That is manipulated for me to submit
To an agenda that deems me unfit

Upon the racial hierarchy of capitalism,
I waver between spiritual cannibalism and Afropessimism
But being a wombman, who loves the essence of a healthy soul, I don’t believe in fatalism
My divine metabolism craves deep deliberation with nuance and multiplicity
Because authenticity flourishes in interactivity and is rooted in reflexivity

It’s the nonlinearity of truth and how easily it becomes displaced
In group dynamics, where there seems to be an impulse to erase the complexity 
Of existing within the structure of a pyramid scheme, to survive, that we collectively repulse

We each hold a fragment of the key to the next person’s chains, but we must desire to become free, because when the sky rains, it nourishes all terrains.

We playing spades
I was sentimental
But the phony fades
Nonjudgmental, purely elemental

Life is an arcade
A camouflaged crusade
Our acquaintance was a blockade
Imma have to dip, to match my upgrade

“No more puff or bluff, I was always enough. I rebuff every attempt to scruff. To love, I stay cuff.” 

-Zisa Aziza