Religion Has Nothing To Do With God: RastaFarI Know!

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henry york

What the dickens has religion to do with God?
(Dickens meaning instrumentally inspiring imagination)
Seeing there is not one iota’d epistemological connection
Countless rumination’d cajoled interpretation reveal
Negative ontological conscriptions; religion constructed
By man’s scientific, decadent mind, maintains unveered
Coursed human destruction; defiles our souls, breeds
War inclusive damnedable’d murderous insurrection

Christ intoned unmistakable distinction
Pharisees and Saducees develop carnage
Dwell under devilish jurisdiction: worship
Money, denied existence of angels
Exhort laws phoney, supplied resistance
Invoke magic and spells. JAH is single
Spirit; religion applies myriad bad habits
Ask any pope! They once extracted fees
Exchanged forgiveness for cash; devoid of hope
Displayed avoidance, distracted pleas
Sustained attitudes sore and brash

One maintains, whilst protecting souls
Proffered through heavenly adhered Truth
That other pertains to stumbling blocks
Setting devious traps in place, from youth
Using laws to cull and trap the blind
Herding sheep toward depleted ignominy
Falsely rused salvation’d diatribe
Cradled to the grave via material Gethsemene
God is eternal, religion man made
Truth subliminal, church worship is trade

Henry York (Levi, 2012: for Clarke, who has not the slightest idea)

Experiencing The Future: “yes I! It stink”

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henry york

Mildew wear’in government clothes
Curfew construct crawl road
Vice illegal crawl all tightrope
Level playfield as human’ned-kind grows

Mildew ‘mantroll’ govern’tment robes
Vice ill legal roam: all abroad
Levelled playfields as human-kind glows
Narcotic cash-‘galism’ run street hard

“Empty!” Said, yet street pockle: teem
Look good! See assertive shadows
Countless pseudonym’d characters flow green
Abuse now spent hungry tomorrows

‘Livity’ ‘pon Babylon thin wire crossed line
‘Mengle’ metamorphosed ‘psychedic’ insomnia
Throw infallible essenced NyahbinghI divine
Mixed past-cum-future innovation arena

My head n’ar worry I dread
By plaster red sky spread
Must ha’ f’e reach ‘Ights sight
In Zion is notsoever night

From whence ‘Ining ‘Ight
Bright as ‘powerest’ might
I-magined sensually crystal real
When: see! Truth and Right revealed

Hol’ still what I tell you a’ready
‘Til me no haste f’e tell wha’-g’waan
“Hell removed,” fell swoop, ” yous comprend’e?”
JA’SON ‘ceives perpetual move-on

Henry York

Poe’s Lice: vice trapped – Rachab: near-fifty-year hook-a-mother!

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Poe’s Lice

June 11, 2012

Hounded, goaded, openly harassed Us

Record handed-out barbed sweety

Many double-figure sentence plus

New Babylon parlez dog stink pussy

Complained hook-a-tute activity

Arrest handcuffed aggrieved resident

Face laughed: “choice, want to be.”

Vice, drugs: non-criminal incident

Stationed, indictable offence joke

Sargeant, super, chief all there

Dole merchants ‘monied old rope.’

Lawful protectors incite: don’t care

Ridiculing Ras; accept local pollution

Continued abuse: Our future

Hoodlum, civil servant no distinction

Lock-up any slight misdemenour

‘Orange’ behemoth of a place

Cut-price money-serving variables

Condoned unwarranted disgrace

Hooked sex reward stricken despicables

Children frequented vicinities

Internet – phone – sattelite connected

Punters, whores, pimps cull cash certainties

Polytheistic ungodliness reflected

Poe’s lice, Premier, sundry taxi-firms

All mixed: sex-for-sale drug-in-trade

Extract powdered crack loan

Button-pinned-lips sore afraid

Boy-blue enmeshed, sly abuse The Social

Easy to fathom vice-drugs corruption

Official feeding beast known felon

Better dead! N’ar pander soul’s destruction

Goes out to ‘innocent’ Stephens

Chief Inspector Dibble: case of the footworship whore: Rachab cashfinder

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Weakheart working sex-motivated elephant god

Immersed in those garlic-wreaked feet

‘Dreadlocks’ Rachab for money’s so glad

Kissing, licking, praising toes so ‘sweet’.

Poet!  Inform world ’bout foot worship

And that sad near-fifty-year fool

On her knees with crack-wreaked lip

Trapped in mouth, sole slurping school

Buying money, paid tongue and spit

Bowing, caressing stinking extremities

Whoredom life now regulars habit

Cursed innocent children: futured calmities

D’utty, stinking, wrenking ass

Taken anywhere: concrete and dirt

Modelling Rasta; pretending class

Drinking, swallowing when ready to give birth

Of You!  There can never be another

Chief Inspector Dibble; Chapeltown listened

Him la-la officers take time abuse her

Clean up that racist whole; so well seasoned

You lock-up The Dread; collude Diesel Red

Bidding crooked wiles convicted spoor

Now poe’s lice can’t control evil they fed

Come!  Come breakdown my innocent door

Once More

Rasta Is!  True, and Living JAH/ God: they ALL have to bow.  King Haile Selassie I

Cat ‘Pon Cash-Tap: Sainbury’s Rachab 2011

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The Scream:

Resistance, now a joke in mind
Reduces simmering whimpered
Servitude; cravings transform
Unrequited addiction: to non-responsive
Suppliers. Fresh virginal skin diffuses
Worms seep, crawl from pores
Teeth lose uniformity, portraying
Blighted appearanced jagged-edged
Mouth corners eternally weep tainted
Saliva, dripping pus continuously
taking on properties
Reminiscent of a rampantly abused vagina


Hark this near-fifty-year fool

Currying young fritter bounced zeal

Still Walk riddled crawling mobile darts

Prick-in life etchin’s ridicule

On West through North; celebrated

Notoriety glints, glows incandesce

Since ’tis You: bow intermittently

Trace lip outline on full sat bus

Face-in-face, swallowing field camp disgrace

Feared, blind terror expertly concealed

Surface poe lice support dis-relationship

Orange big-house secured manpower

Stalk wanton cash hungry pussycat

Forever, from now, past tomorrow addict

Punter-colluded SMS- cum- GPRS

Fly-in orange file

Like heat-seeking magnets

Puss reneges close under observation

Cutely bawling-cross child; distanced

Hungry-beast read: vile, cruel

Disrespectful to a child signal

Cradling aisles, positioning close

Pillow-heads; reputedly, they supposed money

And, crucially, sexually wanton

Absolutely no respite: nipping to

Cornershop, knickers convieniently forgotten

Blustery wind bites protruding cheeks

Premier lurk obsessively, and at the park

Awaiting Moortown regular

Short-leased teeth soon bite

Bust release; sporting vagi-stunk

Yellow stone-crusted stains

Crumpled worm-ridden chin

Blind-eyed misdemenour goes begging

Babylon keep ‘schtum’, haranguing

Age old – now innocent – adversary

Aid pimp-led recorded whoredom

Not naming, knowing secretly

Shamed flesh purveyor: festering disease

Accepting murderers paradise

Not acknowledge hated life-long

But bible and True foe

Give licensed powered mindkillers

Go!  Out to and fro

Chief Dibble, inspector Stephen

Sublime evening CPT and those left behind

Stole Our blues made illegal, legal

Fostering crime, keeping Us down


Still I & I will glorify


The everlivin’ King

Them ‘bwoy’ ‘de see HIM

(Morgan Heritage)
































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