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Royal Freshness (Josh Evans)

I’ve been to the mountaintop and beheld His glory…
Got a dose of real life, this ain’t a Toy Story…
Comin’ at you with that fish speak, not whale like Dori…
Followin’ the 1 of 10, having no other gods before He…
I’m all brand new, and my forehead’s all shiny…
Because He reached down and anointed me, and totally redefined me…
I can see clearly now, no specs – no surgery…
Just a Holy Spirit touch that makes the scales fall away from me…
He put His words in my mouth like the prophet Jeremiah…
Only thing coming out is edification about the Messiah…
Pen is mightier than sword, so I’m doing battle as a writer…

Throw some wood on, cuz I’m the place that’s got that fire…
No pride, just armor, got the Word like Micro…
Not me, just prayer, it seems crazy – iPsycho…
But now I’m owning it, and teaching it wherever I go…
Going big like Kryptonian haircuts – haha – SuperBowl…
No point in opposition, just get on my team…
Not in the NBA, but I play for the Kings…
And we’re more than All Stars, we’re also an army…
I fight with weapons not of this world, plus thunder and lightning…
The gloves have come off, and I’m takin’ no captives…
You need to anchor yourself in Christ, lest you be taken by sin’s rapids…
I’m leveling up like a video game, bro I’m so Active…
Finally letting His light shine, and owning life, no longer passive…
I’ve found my good thing, that P31, that of whom SOS speaks…
You can call her my Padme, my Tiana, or Nala from Lion King…
And I guess you can call me Woody, because I found my Bo Peep…
Both walking in our calling, pursing the lost sheep…
Buzz Lightyear – to infinity and beyond…
I’m like an injection in your arm to cancel out all wrong…
Taking a line from Sho’s mouth, throw ya L’s up and give a big Lion shout…
It’s grind time now, I’m like an explosion in a room… 3,2,1…

Can’t Blame Her/Don’t Blame Me (Sunday Morning Free write)

by Sean King

I opened the door
and she stopped
and she looked
and she clinched her belongings
getting in her defensive stance
like she was gon’
have to fight me off
Can’t blame her
They don’t meet too many like me

I said hello
Good evening Miss
and she shifted her head down
like she was throwing her body
into another gear
you could hear the rhythm
of her toes pressing down
and her heels picking up
as she race walked past me
no eye contact
no response
Can’t blame her
They don’t meet too many like me

I asked her
is this seat taken
and immediately she flashed
her engagement ring
from a ceremony
that never happened
and a boyfriend
that she had left so long ago
that he was barely a distant memory
she says
I’m married
not that I asked
all I really wanted to do was
rest my feet
Can’t blame her though
gotta be careful who you trust these days
lot’s of unsavory characters out there
and besides
they don’t meet too many like me anymore

We just met
natural connections
based on reflections
and deep dialogue
on life,
and love,
and what it means to live in this world
time flew
to the cha-ching
of light libations
fantastic conversation
kicked over a light melody
and the hypnotizing glow
of the moon
I offered to walk her to her car

she paused
before grabbing her bags
looking me in my eyes
and saying
I’m parked just right up the street
I’ll be fine
and she proceeded to walk away
carrying with her
a lifetime of history
with games
and people trying to take advantage
and brothers with ulterior motives
and hidden desires
and aggressive tendencies
and rape

Can’t blame her
For wanting to take her chances with the
unseen monsters of the dark alleys
rather than letting me into her space
I looked like the baggage she was carrying
and even though the dark alleys
had their danger
they weren’t as dangerous as the horrors she
had already come to know

They don’t meet too many like me

I only saw her
once more
it was in the morning paper
a story of a sister
who never made it to her car
I only vaguely remembered her name
but the eyes
the eyes I saw in the photo
were unmistakable
they were the eyes of the sister
I had just met the night before
the sister I let walk to her car alone
my sister

now I carry her memories
like gorillas on my back
those eyes, her eyes,
staring into my tortured soul
into my emptiness

so don’t blame me
for holding the door open
or speaking
or conversing
or being real
or treating you like a woman
or offering to walk you to your car
or worrying about you
just know that we all have baggage
and love
is a lighter load to carry
than the burden of what if
or what we should have done