My Soul’s Callin

By Malik Hampton

hold up, my soul’s callin, hello?

Name a loss I took that she know  Then I’ll name a hundred she don’t, matter of fact let’s chat like this and let’s see how it goes

Calls off screen are the quarrels turned into wins, shino

I know how things get when they talk about how things look and I know how things look when they talk about how things get

Half a decade in I been pennin, the same amount of time I been in nature listenin’

Since then the masks I’ve worn been shedding and the lies I told been dwindling

Unless I didn’t explain to her the rationale for my decision and she run off with some plot holed fiction

2am, 3rd shift, scheming on my piranha infested moat to put distance between me and them, because let’s face it, it’s me or them

Before then I need to manipulate some jurisdictions like a statute misrepresents a witch’s well hidden intention

My pace is like a pastor’s who’s begun to second guess his decisions, needs to release tension, but then who gone lead the congregation out these spiritual trenches?

Who gone tell these niggas they been led astray, coveted after, and life set up for disarray?

Who gone tell these niggas some pond and years don’t separate us from the first man, how can we not be born in our own image?

Who gone tell these niggas that some niggas Gonna get left if they don’t get right, the roster positions fillin’, you gotta make a decision, time’s tickin 

We got time to spend, but investing it wisely will come by making better decisions

What the fuck is wrong with me that I let doubt stop me from picking up the pen?

What the fuck is wrong with me I chase paper more than passion and wonder why I feel like my soul’s spent?

What the fuck is wrong with me my Appearances appear distant because the soul warfare I’m submerged in started way before my mom first held me in this dimension 

Chasing autophagy to uncover the prophecy that vices have distorted and said greatness was not for me

Be that as it may, the charge is the charge and the mission is the mission, let’s see how far these pen strokes go

This is simply a fasting poet’s call with his soul

By Malik Hampton