Author
Poet
Screenwriter
Hoodlum
Breeze Vincinz
BREEZE LOVE SOUL
ACOUSTIC ECCLESIOLOGY
© Breeze Vincinz
Who should I praise
if what he says
is not in my gaze
killing me like a-b-c
destroying me like 1-2-3
If I am not beloved
then why even bother?
Why even put in the effort?
What a brutal world this be
Maybe it’s a beautiful girl we all need
Maybe if the hands of each soldier
grew an individual conscious of their own
they wouldn’t dare kill their brothers
just because they are attached to the
pawns of
senators
adulterers
racists
cannibalists
capitalists
the famous ones
we call sir
lucifer
And who will you give your soul to
Do you even know their name?
Do you freely offer it to the most famous one?
Do you know of any other game?
Energy to energy
When did “reality” become
the atheist mantra?
Sunlight to twilight
When did we forget
that God has a momma?
There is loam underneath the city streets
and there is soul in that loam
There is a need in the dirty sheets
like there is shame in these foreclosed homes
Brutality is not masculinity
When did the subtlety of life
get lost?
From cradle to the grave
With our half won equality
dignity was the cost
Maybe if the hands of each soldier
grew an individual conscious of their own
they wouldn’t dare kill their brothers
just because they are attached to the
pawns of
senators
adulterers
racists
cannibalists
capitalists
the famous ones
we call sir
lucifer
And who will you give your soul to
Do you even know their name?
Do you freely offer it to the most famous one?
Do you know of any other game?
I wrote this poem at the height of my “Spoken Word” era, where I was hitting several spoken word spots around Los Angeles at the same time as well as hosting my own Spoken Word night at Jewel’s Catch One. I produced a lot of work at the time, and a lot of it was stream-of-consciousness pieces that didn’t make a lot of sense unless you just happened to be on the same wavelength as me at the time. This was a piece that vacillated between pulpit-inspired preaching and whiskey with friends on a Friday night pontificating, all hovering around the ideas of God, government, and humanity. I was a little taken aback by how Suno interpreted these lyrics. I always felt the piece had a certain chaotic strength to it, but hearing this interpretation definitely blew me away.
Writer's Notes
Writer's Notes
I wrote this poem at the height of my “Spoken Word” era, where I was hitting several spoken word spots around Los Angeles at the same time as well as hosting my own Spoken Word night at Jewel’s Catch One. I produced a lot of work at the time, and a lot of it was stream-of-consciousness pieces that didn’t make a lot of sense unless you just happened to be on the same wavelength as me at the time. This was a piece that vacillated between pulpit-inspired preaching and whiskey with friends on a Friday night pontificating, all hovering around the ideas of God, government, and humanity. I was a little taken aback by how Suno interpreted these lyrics. I always felt the piece had a certain chaotic strength to it, but hearing this interpretation definitely blew me away.
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