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The 8th of December

from Legacy Materials by Sankofa

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Tim Dunn
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relentless bars

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The blade is rusted with blood, so fatal the clutches
Day to day is aiming to make my labors something weighted with justice
Endangering others, mothers evading the brothers engaging in war
Playing the dozens with razorblades changing the subject
Raising a sword, making the gore glorious, mi amor is conflict
Sleek velour crafted by the godless
I have the face a passerby will never recognize
Breath arrives, weaponized upon intrepid tides,
step aside, I’m supplying the pessimism, with death arisen
I made my circle so small, you’ll never step within it
Impressive innit, I didn’t make it to make you proud of me
A treasure chest of death, it seems that they have found the key
And now they’re fading faster the moments mean more
Feel the undertow call you from the sea shore
I am the way of the wakening making sleepers stumble
Beneath the tunnels the rats are running, diseases double
No grief, just rubble building a throne that I rest upon
A kingdom of none when the rest are gone, select the song
A wretched throng of all imagined threats, dance before me
Shattered mirrors for my 7 year selfie, plans for glory
A man that’s storming inside of himself, provides the hell
Wear the tattered title belt, battered, I might as well
No time to spare, my mind is racing and the track is gone
I chase the night insane, in vain to seek to crack the dawn
No magic wand, I just imagine trauma, mastodons
Playing telephone by myself, a path I pass along
The map was wrong I’m in the place I never sought to be
Fall in a colossal heap an awful scene of loss indeed
My arteries they thought to bleed upon a plaster canvas
Splattered stories and categories and that’s the status
I add the madness to the other pieces, start to cry
Tears soak into my wizened shell, spelling the dark goodbyes
A martyr vibe without a cult to spread the word of mine
Would rather lose than add the blues, the vapid earth declines
A taciturn tactician playing chess alone
All the rest are left as bone, connect the threat that’s less a loan
Domestic zones stand as homage to the conquest
Onslaught of relentless inventiveness of the bomb threat
Raise my hands to the sky and then my palms bled
Dripping down upon the fallow ground the calm tread
There is nothing but nothingness in this place that I rendered
Advent calendar stuck, the eighth of December
Faces disfigured, a taste that’s embittered, hastily written
Maybe imprisoned with evasiveness, graves to the digger
I’m made of this moment a remorseless sadist’s atonement
Fate that I’ve broken, forbidden tasted the trace of a token
Making a molehill out of the mountain I began clearly
Signed sincerely, merely the only one that I fear, me

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from Legacy Materials, released March 25, 2022

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Sankofa Fort Wayne

My rhymes kick in like a turbobooster.

Fort Wayne.

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