Open Season On Hearts

It's open season on hearts 

and your emotions are fair game.

It's open season on hearts,

so be careful who you claim.

Cause you may fall victim to a sweet lad or dame

who captures your heart with a smile and a kiss.

Imprisoning it in a cage of temporal bliss. 

But when hunting season comes to an end,

you will be left quite cold and heartless my friend.

Empty and hurting, weeping and lonely.

Your stolen heart now broken 

by that beautiful phoney.

Bloody Love

Love bleeds,

a strangled cry escapes her lips

as in an ocean of hatred her blood it drips.

Her tears are smeared across her heavenly face,

Charity it seems has lost her grace.

Love's seed are dug up from their nesting place

scattered to the winds

gone to waste.

Love weeps, for hope has died,

buried deep, but long lives pride.

From these evils none can hide .

Poor love has drowned in high tide.

Battered and broken

tormented and strained ,

Love's chaste name has now been stained.

Doubt kills Faith and Fear consumes,

our once kind Love , she needs no room

for truth or trust or perfect plans.

Love's heart lies broken in her hands.

CUT

MY VEINS OPEN
WIDE OPEN
SPILL MY SORROW
THAT RUNS DOWN MY ARM
AND DRIPS FROM MY ELBOW
AND FORMS A RANCID POOL AT MY FEET.

RUNAWAY

RUN AWAY CHILD.

RUN AND DON'T LOOK BACK.

MAKE HASTE AND MILES OF DISTANCE BETWEEN YOU AND THIS PLACE,

AND TAKE WITH YOU YOUR BROKEN DREAMS.

RUN AND MAKE TIME MEAN NOTHING.

LET YOUR FEET AND THE NIGHT AIR CARRY YOU AWAY,

NO LUGGAGE;

JUST YOUR BAGGAGE AND YOUR THOUGHTS,

AND  THE CLOTHES ON YOUR BACK.

RUN AWAY CHILD, AND DON'T LOOK BACK.

RASTAMAN

I am a Rastaman,

I belong to the Rasta clan,

I wear no shoes and I wrap me head

I carry a staff and I grow me dreds.

I am a Rastaman.

Bun Bablyon is me theme song

bun battyman is the creed long

bun Jesus and the government

bun school and catholic sacriment.

He told me he was a Rastaman,

Bongo dred, who listen to Bob Marley.

Twelve Tribe whose name start wid "i"

Ignorante.

Lost sheep, and he high.

He claim he is a Rastaman

but he don't know what is Rastafari,

what is love and peace and justice.

he blinded, his life is a lie.

He ain't no Rastaman,

just a child searching for a home

like a dog searching for a bone.

He lost in the ocean

sinking like stone.

Rastafari is not ignorance.

It's the truth and the search for the Almighty plans

Walking in the ways of the Most High's commands,

For rightousness and justice a Rastaman stands.

Meditating on the scriptures

love and a strong lion heart.

And for the Rastaman knowledge is the start.

The school will teach you to count and read

Rastafari will teach what really counts to his seed.

Respect and love for yo fellow man.

never afarid to lend a helping hand.

But brimstone and fire fo Bablylon.

Hard work and honesty with yoself and Jah.

Pride in yo race,

hope in Africa.

Cleanliness, and love fo nature,

Prudence in the use ah ganja.

Each man have to search and find his own way.

But yo family and His Majesty come first everyday.

learn humbleness in thoughts, words and deeds.

forget about vice and hate and greed.

One Love, One Aim, One Destiny.

A real Rasta search for truth

so let him be.

For King Jua

my daddy...my teacher