I was born
in the eye of a storm
with no moon in the sky
between midnight
and dawn.
When I was young
I studied the transits of the planets
with sky watchers on Atlantis.
I saw alphabets
taking flight
from the winged silhouettes
of birds against the sky.
I wrote odes
to Osiris
on the very first sheet
of papyrus.
I was the only man allowed
on the Island of Lesbos
and each morn
Sappho would pin a poem
to my bedpost.
I went miles past the last
known fringe.
I drank psychedelic fluids with Druids
at Stonehenge,
then battled devils
on nine different levels
of hell,
that were made in
the crater when
Lucifer fell.
I’ve been on binges
smoking ganja by the Ganges
with some ninjas.
I’ve seen evil men do
I couldn’t begin to
I’ve prayed with Hindu
and the shamans
of every tribe,
from Israelite to Shiite, Greek or Celtic
to Zulu to Zuni to Saxon or Toltec.
I’ve seen whole armies
commanded to wait
while I taught tactics
to young
Alexander the Great,
and the fact is,
when I think of my life,
it’s hieroglyphics
to hip hop
in the blink of an eye.

I’ve had lifetimes
to write rhymes.
I’ve had lifetimes
to write rhymes
and get my game tight,
then waited to be incarnated
’til they invented
the mic.

…and life
twists and fades like
smoke in the stage lights…


(Excerpt of “lifetimes,” from love letter to the milky way.)