The flood's screeching melts the earth, and the typhoon bastions break from the south blue cloud. Torrid water up to the neck and still, we went to see the deluge.  We went to see the monsoon that could have ended Noah and his flock and fleet, and we saw him, we saw him and his blood soaking bone wet and bewildered in devotion.

Ha, devotion! Ha, love! Unending anguish. Death is calling upon the mighty hand and we are drowned in the storms.  The sea sings, crying in its grief and chained in its shackles, beating  against the unyielding stone its fists, its foam, its spittle, and the bodies of the drowned ones.  My thirst is not quenched by unbending Time, my thirst is not quenched by the unending torment of the sea.  My thirst is not quenched by my own love strangled.  

Who is the devoted? Who are the living ones?  When Divinity is dying into its smallest atom and the mind's lotus flounders black and blue in the pond of autumn, we find ourselves lost in the darkness of our caves, and leave our shelters to seek the colors outside, unfounded and false.  The leaves of the trees shudder in the wind as God's breath sighs at our ignorance.  The Raven shrieks, calling:

O small ones!  O runts of the world! Find your caves.  Burrow in the corners of the earth or in the hallway of the sea.  And see that the floods escape you, and the torrents abate at your cries. And the drowned men shall throw you pearls, salted pearls as wedding gifts within the whale, for the little ones, the afraid ones, the ones who do not fight but drudge wearily to carry  the planks of the ark.

For it is these that are the weights of God- fear, obedience, patience, and prayer.  This the tempest whispers within the eye of the storm.   And when it is finished, the little ones, the newfound strong ones, the delirious ones, move forward foot by foot to stagger from the edge of the tide and gaze in wonder before them;  for above the stars gleam the hint of dawn, and  behind, in the watery footprints, glimmers the evidence of the Sun.

On A Bad Day, Cover; Joanna Newsom

Go Forth, Feminist Warriors – Various Artists

my will is pure. 
live bedroom recording while lying on my bed (April 2014). 

Hold On, We're Going Home (Drake Cover)

mothers cry enveloped in sirens
the long robe don’t speak tongue to tyrants
nowadays we don’t run from violence
and don’t forget that
fuck wit us you getting hit back
a chicken on the path with a gun in hand 
cuff the king, he fooled the masses 
and fuck the queen too, bruise the bitch snatch
to take it all back like we warrant that shit
on my way to these cages thrashing
away from the high times made of magic
a black cat paw caught inside the law jaw
coward with a pistol couldn’t battle cuz of brawl flaws
fam in the field, riding for the chief cause
wolves at war, martyr me on tree log 
the fear of god was the cause for his actions
without a badge youz a bitch and a half nigger

aint a need to b alarmed cuz we don’t sleep
talk back to the law get a jaw full of broke teeth
tossed at the feet of the police
raw is the meat from the bones to the street

aw, aw, aw
ghetto, ghetto

gone, cuz your scope of vision
was bought off when u lost your emotions picture
me g-slide on the top ocean mirror
a brand new world from the broken children
a sun left me all hopeless in it
so I burnt down crosses and broke ecliptics
(spit), fuck real why rely on the truth
a blunty brew just to vibe thru the music
deep in the hellhole
i dripped from my elbows
walked with the heretics ran with the devil
mama kept calling me yelling
while a nigga in the field I can’t pick up the cellphone often
see that midwife was telling me I’m guilty
somehow i knew nothing pure could be filthy
it always was and maybe it always will be 
every cop got a license to kill me

Wolves At War

An old sketch of Black Rage, done in my living room. Strange, the course of things. Peace for MO.

- MLH

Lyrics: http://mslaurynhill.com/post/95329923112/black-rage-sketch

Black Rage (sketch)

It has been more than a year since I last uploaded any music, so here's a cover of Yann Tiersen's well known Comptine D'un Autre Été. I hope it's worthy of your time and I'd appreciate your feedback.

Performed and produced by: Ahmed Emad

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpDUlLjy9NnVeGsECf-7_oA
Twitter, Instagram & Tumblr: @Emadoforte

Facebook Page: www.facebook.com/AEPianoProductions

Comptine D'un Autre Été - Ahmed Emad - Piano Solo

River bank

And when I'm following my pride
to find my way back home
I know, no matter how hard I try
It's like I'm stuck here 
on my own

Everytime I speak
It's the devil that answers me
I know which way to go
but desire won't let me be

Salt's what I get when I'm looking back at you
And I've lost you once again
Like everytime I've thought of you
honey, it's true

Standing at the bottom of a staircase 
that I've built
and I hope and ignore reason
but there's a man I might have to kill
and I swear

I'm trying but fighting's not so easy for me
and I've looked so hard
I think of that I've done
and I get tired

god

hailstormpixie

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