Visionessence: Young Prophet

Keep your eyes,

Watch your feet,

Heed your staff,

Sharpen your knife:

The hood upon my head does shade me,

Walking upon the sands of time through dusted air,

I sing the songs of native heritage,

Reverence my power, the Most High;

Through a barren land of concrete towers,

Strange affections and enticing evils I stare,

A glow of light within me,

My white oak staff glazed with the sweat of my palms;

For who am I to the system but an anomaly?

Some say "He is homeless," and others "He is indeed a bum,"

Yet through the ages of my beard and afro hair,

Wisdom is my ally, and a sharp sword of Word be my compass;

As I walk among the monotonous grey crowds of rushing individuals,

Smothered zombies with electrical plugs squirming from their brains I see,

Choking on the air of complex and integrated statistics,

Spewed forward by the mouth of the false ProphetOS...

I grimace the system,

Approaching the mechanical giant that towers over all with its poisonous wires,

Plugged in, turned on, powered up,

"And he had power to give life unto the image of the beast..."

And indeed I stand against it to fight it;

ProphetOS says that all should partake of his gifts,

Indulge in all desires of one's heart,

Let no one tell you that you do not deserve the rewards,

Of what you did not labor the ground for;

But with staff in hand I strike the ground,

That thunder fall across the sky and reveal the LCD High-definition projection,

That covered up a scarred, rainy atmosphere of horror,

Unveils the naked atrocious underlying members of the beautiful buildings,

Strips down the plated synthetic gold and silver that covers the roads and railings,

And removes the pumping perfumes that were once meant to mask the odor of deception;

Then with the Most High's authority,

I stand before the ProphetOS,

The false prophet and liar,

And I speak;

What does he say of me?

That I am narrow-minded and old-fashioned,

That my words, not attached to fancy letters like Ph. D. and M.D., are worthless and invalid,

That for me to think on my own is a crime and thus I am crazy;

And that whatever I say must be a lie because I am not filled on the feed of the system,

I am supposed to be an inferior animal who runs the streets,

Unable to commit and think of long-term goals,

That my dark skin was a curse that came from nothing and therefore will never be anything;

I do not have the mental capabilities to lead or think for myself,

My only goals in life are sexual pleasure, riches and vain treasures that will all soon burn,

Our women are to become toys of other men unless ProphetOS sees potential in her body;

My children and their children will be the product of a generational curse of fatherless sons,

Violence and deception, poverty and narcotics,

And once we have destroyed ourselves,

ProphetOS will come for my head;

What do I, a prophet of the Most High say?

All that is said of me is a lie, and I will surely destroy you,

Your defeat is written in stone that is over 2,000 years old,

I will hew down your pillars and altars with my knife and sword,

And beat out your oppressive arms with my staff,

That you may know the name and power of the Most High,

And learn that He has sent me for your head,

As well as the heads of your daughters worldwide;

Those who heard me laughed at my wisdom and mocked me,

Gathering their verbal stones till I be buried beneath them,

A rock monument that to this day stands untouched by those who heaped it,

And my staff stands defiantly across from the tower of ProphetOS;

Remember those statues and words spoken,

They shall not return void for the hour has come,

And as the ProphetOS shakes with the quake of the ground, I shall rise from the stones,

And gaze upon his destruction;

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