the 4400

my imagination is dry right now,
but i want to write/right.
i need to write/right... the self-imposed abduction
is the impetus for such thoughts.
searchin' outside of myself for the answers
that lie comfortably inside, correspondin' exquisitely
with the subconscious in need of more space to reside

the future has captured my responsibility
and obliges me to communicate to the now
the corner. the so-called foreigner. the dilapidated zoos
that we call our communities all cry out for our attention
but we stand still...stale. like the heroes and heroines of past,
we leave nothin' more than inspiration behind,
what's left after we can longer relate?

i've found my abilities, all these years suppressed
by the distraction that we call life
i have identified the enemy, the politic is clear.
i am now lookin' for my comrades to construct tomorrow,
armed with weapons that can longer be compromised
by aggression and manipulation
so that we can create a world that will save our children
a world that allows us to be...out of love and justice

time has delivered the message, no more fuckery
no more bitches and niggas or dick-suckin' crackheads
that hell below which curtis said we'll go has pervaded our reality involuntarily.
impregnating the season, these new moments with liberation

who will remind the world of our humanity? the 4400. the we that is unconsciously, subconsciously, consciously strugglin' to be free.