flower.

flower.

Update: 2025-11-28
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Gotta love [hatred];


Single mother raised a surfer


Caught the california coast


And all the love of mother–


Dontcha know it takes a whole village


Don't you know


You killed my whole village?


I, mother, grew up there a sawdust Choctaw,


I walked across mountains and


Draw sandcastles on all antarctica?


Dontcha know America the beautiful


from day one wanted all us Sumwuns


Homeless?



I yearn for the coast,


But all i got was motorcycles


I'd die for the surf


But all i got was homeless shelters,


Project housing


No, don't talk back, but on your conscious


Are all the drugs you swallow


Just to hold the thoughts back


Of the sons and daughters slaughtered


For your coastal homes on water


From that old money in boston


To the college that it funded


But you're under the impression that you earned it.


Never was a live lived any easier than these and he's and hers


With blue eyes;


Live on autopilot unless otherwise decided


Undeserving of your turkey


Put machines to work for war, with every word you wrote


An order form to be ignored


From old man tom


On turkey day;


You never would forget that he was red


Till he regrets to get the President a gift


Of sacrificial and indigenous proportions


So much for portion and/or guun control


The model girls are throwing up their supper


Passing over butter on the cornbread


Never apple cider, only water


Meanwhile in africa,


It not has rained a drop


No more the currency prints pennies for your thoughts


no store bought penne for these staten island italians either


Lets just react to image over Islam;


Can the taliban afford it?


A four door?


Guess not.


Each day at 7 o clock


They use a corvette as a gun


And kets just hope this judge sits highly on her honor code


Beyond nazi enforcement


endorsements for internment camps


And turn it down;


You tried your very hardest


But they want you in a dungeon


Or the projects,


Where its much worse


Marcy houses


But no more the rappers platinum come from


Broken home;


The trappers are all planted


Have a plate or more of shit you can't afford


Unless you're working late


Adore commercial holidays for profit


ignore the purpose of the slaughter


Punish all the poor, but right after you rob them


Take a snore and pour your water over corn atop the cob,


And in another world just hope your boy comes home from war,


Or door-to-door insurance sales


You might as well just heads or tails


To whether you will live or die


to tell the tale


Of black or white


Over your pecan/pumpkin pie.



I don't think i'm really supposed to celebrate “thanksgiving” this year.


It seems even my ancestors were forcefully evicted and tortured simply just for existing.


Why should i expect in this day and age it should be any different?


I'm being targeted simply just for attempting to exist in the United State of America as an African American Indigenous.


Perhaps, just as in the days of the great genocide–were I perfect and young with light skin I would be left alive, to marry and make good children.


But instead I am seen as a thing, and left out easily in the street–


Perhaps because they haven't use for me.



It is easy to torture ugly things–from which some even draw enjoyment.


And so it seems my time in the world is coming to an end,


And if today i am thankful for anything at all, it is this.


The end of a torturous and pitiful, wretched life.




THE MISTRESS coils an emerald stone and tumbles it into her expanded palm— it momentarily transforms into an equally as emerald SNAKE before becoming once again a stone inside her palm.



Enamoured, she looks it over with amusement, but still sighs with the dismissal of boredom.



—oh look at that, I do have a snake.



What do you know!



She grumbles.



Not much of snakes but they do, at the least, bring dreams to nightmares…



Don't they!



How posh.



{Enter The Multiverse}



L E G E N D S



flower.


Unreleased — TBA 2026


Prod. By -Ū.


DBA Blū Tha Gürū



Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025


The Festival Project, Inc. ™


All rights reserved.



Chroma111.


Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025.



[The Festival Project, Inc. ™]


All rights reserved.



UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR


DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW.


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flower.

flower.