A call is a call as a body will fall,

And all through it all the men will stand tall.

To service the call is to liven the brawl.

On their bellies they crawl while the others may stall.

We remember them all whose names paint the wall.

My big brother was shot and killed late night October 17th

At a house party just relaxing trying to do his thing

Got into an Altercation but decided to walk away

But the oppose continued agitating all out of his rage

The congregation; working actors, writers, dancers, and painters looking for inspiration

The ministry; museum curators, storytellers, and teachers that spread the word

The saints; those who made sacrifices for art’s sake and are forever embedded in history

How do some falsely proclaim to

lie down to sleep in prayer, with a

right heart and mind.

And yet they arise with anger and

strife. Storming with hatred, even

though the sun is bright and shining.

Their soul is black as night.