A Poem by Rico X

From the dust I was made
Out in the open beneath the
Sun, no shade
Made in the image of he, me
And I him
He breathed life
Into my nostrils
According to the gospel and
After the pilgrimage
To the
Valley of the dry bones
My maker realized
That I was alone
They believed
That I needed a help mate
Because the weight
Of loneliness
Weighed heavily on me
So in order for me
To progress
I had to digress
As the future would see, me
He; Us
Ingest the forbidden fruit
Our downfall
He would call
So my story begins
As I became a nomad first
Looking for souls to hurt
Searching to and fro
Minute by minute
Hour by hour
Seeking whom
I could devour
Not knowing another creature
Was made explicitly to deceive
Those who believe in him
And he in them
As they all
Will reap the poison from
The tree
A multi-generational curse
That came from the dirt and dust
A sinful
As the nomad
Became mad
Defying his purpose
Lying against the truth
So now nomad becomes
Forging weapons from stone
Refusing to leave the other
Creations God made
Again he roams
This time
Looking not to
Fill his
Stomach with berries
As the future
Becomes scary
As his soul
Became sore
As he needed more
This would later
Be the basis
For war
As his desire for
Meat turned him
Into a carnivore
As the taste of blood
Changed his
Vegan existence
His persistence
In defying G-O-D
Shattered his morality
As he now was the enemy
Of he that created him
And him he and
On that day
They soon
Parted ways
His discontentment
Grew in increments
As he was hell bent
On murdering the land
By his hand
At first
His thirst
Could not be satisfied
As he lied
About why his brother
Had to die
But his creator knew
That he was Abel too
After all he was made in
His image, his likeness
His self-righteousness
Would be felt for generations
To come
As historians will examine
What he has done
Citing that the progression
From plants to being a
Made him hungrier
For war
While discoveries
Like fire
Fueled his desires
As he became a deity
A demigod that made
It hard for him to obey
His master
A disaster
As his desire for flesh
Had him fixated
On war and conquest
As he now beats
His chest
To profess
His Exodus became
A symbol of his
A main ingredient
In this thing
Called sin
And just before his story
It just begins

© 2014 Rico X

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Added on December 30, 2014
Last Updated on December 30, 2014


Rico X
Rico X

Politically InCorrect, LA

I have been writing since I was 9. I specialize in freeverse poetry and have cut my teeth on Political and Socially Conscious subject matters. My poetry is not for everyone but anyone who hungers and .. more..

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A Poem by Rico X


A Poem by Rico X

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A Poem by Rico X

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