boris_vallejo_wingsofthenightLet me set the tone of my Saturday mornings and afternoons…

A simple soundtrack that played on repeat in the reservoirs of all memories on Saturday from my life’s beginnings…

Michael Jacksons beat it, gave me confidence…

Jody Watley became a fantasy with don’t u want me…

Madonna made me want to get into the groove while Sade sung her sweetest taboo…

Shelia E spoke about the glamorous life, causing me to look at my plastos; aka plastic shoes and visualize converse, Adidas, or British Knights…

Alexander O’Neil made me wish I was anywhere but here tonight because Hulk Hogan and the Road Warrior was fighting in the morning and we have no tv so dam this is about to be boring…

So like the Mary Jane girls, I was stuck in my house tonight…

Me and Banana Ramma knew it was going to be a cruel summer, im wearing dress pants and long sleeve shirts every day, plus the suns beaming and we still have no tv…

Janet Jackson just rocked me to sleep, whispering to me her pleasure principal…

I must admit if love was a house I’d be at Janet Jacksons like Force MD’s, since we shared the same last name among other things…

Pat Benatar taught me that love was a battlefield…

So like Cherrelle, I couldn’t wait for Saturday to get here to feel that Saturday cartoon love…

With a talonous grip, I held on to these ancient things…

Willow, Legend, Red Sonya and Conan the barbarian

Ancient memories of childhood mirages of peace, smiles, and laughter…

I bottled them up…

Enthralled in my moments of escape…

Caged them up…

Hid and stored them away to use on demand…

A childhood filled with Voltron, Thundercats, and transformers…

Born in the 70’s but an 80’s baby will infinitely be my heredity…

My point of adolescent origin…

The music and the culture raised me…

Gave my still forming brain a level of symmetry…

Like racing my sister to the tv to watch cartoons every Saturday morning…

That is unless my mother felt she was backsliding and then that small tv resting on that kitchen chair had to go into hiding…

Only she knew why her lord said she was backsliding…

We were kids, we just wanted to watch cartoons…

G.I Joe, JEM, The Smurfs, and Gummy Bears too…

Dark wing duck was cool, but Dungeons and Dragons made me drool…

Even to this day I still watch Lone Star and Silver Hawks, Transformers with the Dinobots, He-Man and She-Ra…I watch it all with zero fucks…

These toons gave me an illusion of tranquility…

Tranquility wasn’t really my reality, but on Saturday mornings I had an out…

I had an escape…

I could travel to other worlds…

Be other things and people…

With my eyes closed, I could control the force like Darth Vader, make him submit and say, “You are my father”…

No room to sulk when I could just grow green and strong like the hulk…

Memories are fleeting they come and the go…

But my subconscious won’t relinquish the hold on those Saturday mornings in the early 80’s…

My sanity found solace there, planted large roots deep into my psyche like a backbone there…

I need those memories to breathe…

I need them to say I’m me…

Those Saturday mornings in the 80’s is my soul…

So I thank wolverine of the x-men, I closed my eyes used my imagination and healed…


FAAther Time Neteru

Friday, March 24, 2017




The master inhibitor

The great wall that stunts us all

It removes the gene physiologically that prevents us from achieving our true divinity

It is the great shadow that prevents all vision

It’s quicksand to the mind

A black hole to the soul

Oceans 1000’s of feet deep it swallows you whole

Invisible handcuffs and shackles it uses to hold

It’s the immortal that begs life to release its eternal grip

You lost the race because you never started

To caught up in what ifs that your courage departed and left you there

Your fear was too much for courage to bear

Fear in the presence of a lion while holding a gun got you ate alive

It’s clouding your judgment the simple remedy is to open your eyes

Fear created the gravest of all grand larcenies

It stole your heart

It replaced it with doubt

It stole your ambition

It replaced it with second guessing

Preventing you from learning a dire lesson

Fear is not real…a mental illusion

You give it power because u choose to listen

Stop think and look for a second

You are the supreme moderator of all your endeavors

The Capitan of your own team…

Tell me again what’s greater than supreme?

Faather time Neteru

Monday, February 6, 2017

its only practice


When I knock on doors they don’t always involve hinges or locking mechanisms created from wood or metal

These doors often times reside on the fringes of science and temporal cognitive psychologies

Pardon me but sometimes my vocabulary escapes me verbally

But resurfaces cerebrally giving the appearance of an individual speaking fluently the English etymology.

So obviously, I digress, if and only to relive myself and others of the stress of surmising and comprehending the cute little rhyming sequential verbs and nouns in verses that im seemingly regurgitating

But im just practicing

See I wanna be a rapper one day

So this was a little way for me to establish word play Similar to western cowboys practicing gun play

The clock strikes 12 one bullets hits its mark the other flew off target

Probably hitting an innocent by standard Sipping a dirty mug full of warm beer at the saloon/tavern

Resulting in 2 coming to the realization there really is no hell or heaven

Im simply following a lyrical pattern

No aim, plan, goal or stratagem

Im Just exercising a gift while displaying a talent

Virtually multitasking

I often do so without asking, or being asked just depends on your point of perception

How u chose to view it

Either way I tend to say it, with little discretion I utilize my vernacular

But easily you will determine that I care little if It ofend him them or her

The force of veracity that expels from me has me feeling along the lines of Obi Wan Kenobi

Yes the force is strong with me

This was only practice…and now im ready to get this rapper money.

Now all I got to do is speak about bitches and hoes, selling drugs and killing folks

Of course these are the only things record execs want to hear from black folks

Change my cloths to wear skinny jeans, skirts, dresses, act androgynous to infect the minds of millions

Mislead the children have them looking up to me when im only a puppet and tool to push an agenda to have a whole generation looking like fools

The music industry will have the youth’s life and common sense going up like smoke from guns and drugs

So calmly…and humbly I part this with thee

Written by FAAther Time Neteru


i don’t like to dream

My cerebration it appears is in need of recalibration,

I stay reminiscing of days past

Days my eyes never saw the light of,

Days when my people vigorously perused freedom and sought for,

But the days I’m walking in ain’t the days I dreamed for…

Opened up my lungs and breathed for,

So I must be sleeping

This nightmare is not a dream I want to keep repeating,

These days can’t be the days my elders bled and sweat for,

We don’t want unity no more?



What for?

I hear a generation of snores

The sound is booming…thunderous…shaking the earth’s core

All in sync shifting the balance of polar caps and axis’s,

What on earth have we magnetically attracted…?

Or more like contracted

This sickness

What is it that has us held captive here?

Hold on im glitching

Certain thoughts keep on repeating…

We don’t want unity no more???



What for?

We love filling America’s prisons?

We love our communities being infiltrated and exploited by foreigners?

We love being pimped out of the nearly 2 trillion we spend annually?

Most of which not spent with anyone resembling you her or me?



I know im bugging,

Aint no way in the fuck this mess is anywhere near a reality…

Wake me up

I give permission to shock me electrically

I don’t like this dream

Wake me up!!!

We really created a sub culture where it’s cooler to have as many sexual partners as possible rather than having families?


Ask yourself why?

We really accepting feminizing men and masculizing women?


Ask yourself why?

We really accepting homosexuality as a normality?


Ask yourself why?

How are we going build communities if the men like men?

And the women like women,

And the men can’t bond with the women

And the women can’t bond with the men?

That means nobody is reproducing

And yet we stay dying

stay having abortions…15 million and counting

Us, the police is steady killing,

US, the police got filling prisons,

Young thugs have no compassion for people who look just like them,

I guess that was the meaning behind Hitler’s verbal sin,


He had a vision when he framed us as the great imitators of the west…

Now dam… I digress…

The Klan killed niggas

Young black males kill niggas

The Klan destroyed black communities

Young black males destroy communities

The Klan hated, raped and beat our women

Young black males hate, raped and beat our women

Fighting this racist system, and the Klan for freedom justice and equality took us from our women and children

Now young black males voluntarily disappear on our women and children…


Ask yourself y?

But again I digress,

I think I see a door opening and some light in the window of the 3rd eye…

I think im about to get out of this mess because this dream aint right

Aint no way in hell this is really life.

Written by FAAther Time Neteru


god of destruction

where does the time go

i go on a quest for the stars

my mind wonders and bumps into stars

my mind wonders and commit cosmic blunders

god of destruction

ripping negative galaxies asunder for encroaching on my positive frequencies

if i can say to a thing BE

then i wont be taken off my axis

all infractions must exit left into that super massive

i keep in my back pocket just for rainy days like this

filled with rain hail snow and earthquakes

days when i woke up for the sole purpose to slay shit

sword in hand and just as grand as my mental state is

god of destruction

you must understand my complete and utter function

ignorance is not in my prime directive

i slay that shit

the universe is vast

i dont have time for that shit

at the center of my universe my crown is high

my eye’s reach is everlasting

on either side of me i found that path that led to knowledge and ignorance

the magnetism of knowledge was too massive

in knowledge i found the true master was self personifying the god of destruction

on a war path

i did my duty purging all ignorance from me….



all rights reserved

Memories are fleeting



Memories are fleeting

They come and they go

They travel with purpose through time and space shrouded in a benevolent grace

They tip toe in and out of dimensions never asking for permission

They come and they go

Finding clever ways to ride the storms of emotions

Begging to be let go

While others cling to the atoms of your mind tethered in anger and pain

Threatening to ignite if their grip ever fades from synaptic light

How can one fight a memory?

It possess no physicality, yet remains deeply rooted like an oak tree encompassing the total of your mentality…

Memories are fleeting

They come and they go

Some hide from the light

Carrying decades of secrecy and misery

Poisonous and toxic diseased things these kinds of memories are

Born in tragedy they seek to infect you mentally

Replication of their birth is all they perceive to be worth

Tricky little parasites who possess no physicality, yet remains deeply rooted like an oak tree

How can this be?

Memories are fleeting

They come and they go

You would chase them across billions of oceans to grasp a ghost long past

Stuck to the back of your eyelids resting on a bed of pillows forms your heaven in which you would proudly close your eyes every second just to watch the cinema of your life’s past.

This vision you cannot let go

It envelopes you like a bottomless sea but in this memory it’s ok because all you want to do is see

But the past is tricky

You no longer live there, therefore it’s impossible to exist there

You have to come back

In fact, you should probably run, and not leave your mind there,

Your physical self is here

Although we are multi-dimensional beings our presence is first and foremost present

Let memories inspire you but remember they are fleeting

Don’t let them leave you stuck in the past chasing flowered meadows blanketed by warm and beautiful sunshine while singing and playing

And then…

And then they are gone

Who craves being stuck in the past unable to escape the grave of all graves?

Each level carries the burden of 100 deaths

Leaving you in darkness buried under the universal void of forgotten and unknown

To never exist is the same as being forgotten

To be forgotten is to be unknown and erased from the cosmos

And this is the premise in which all memories fight

We give them life and all life fights to remain alive

Memories are fleeting

They come and they go

But honestly though

Sometimes it’s best to smile when they come

And let go when they go

By FAAther Time Neteru


there is a difference

the_phantoms_of_the_brain_by_richworksTHERE IS A DIFFERENCE

Part: one


FAAther Time Neteru


You walk up to the door of a house where a small house party is being held. You open the door and see somebody you know, and then say, “What’s up my negga … what it do?”

As you walk through the door, you see a female to the left and one the right, both of them sitting on couches. You then see your negga Dell, and then he looks at the female to your right and tells her, “That’s a real nigga right there baby girl”.

You find out a little later that her name’ is Aaliyah. She takes heed to what Dell told her, so now she is checking you out from head to toe. You see her checking you out, so you walk over to her, and then say, “What’s poppin? They call me Sneed.”

She smiles, and then extends her hand, “I’m peace … ” She says, ” … My name is Aaliyah. How you?”

You respond by saying, “I’m good ma. Just trying to figure out why a fine ass female like your self is sitting all alone.”

She smiles, ignoring the compliment and then says, “That’s funny how you say you was doing some figuring because I was doing some figuring too.”

You jokingly reply, “Naw baby … I ain’t easy, you can’t take me home tonight. Ain’t that what Monica said, ‘I wanna get down, but not the first night’?”.

She looks at you, not hardly impressed by your humor, but to not appear rude she smiles and then sarcastically replies, ‘Yeah …that was cute.  And here I was thinking I was about to get some… you got jokes”.

You are so caught up in yourself that you can’t even hear the sarcasm, so you foolishly think you are getting somewhere. You ask her “what’s on your mind ma?” She responds by saying, “You must be reading my mind, and I got a lot on it too. But, I’m just going to start with some figuring out. Remember that?”

You nod your head, not really knowing where this is going. But she doesn’t give you a chance to dwell on it to much before she starts to speak. “When you came in here, yo boy called you a “Real Nigga” … why he call you a real nigga? ‘What makes you a real nigga?” She says smiling.

You take a closer look at her. She was sitting by herself in a house full of hard legs. She smelling good as fuck, looking good as fuck, no makeup, no perm, everything is just right. The only jewelry she is wearing is a gold necklace with a funny looking cross you had never seen before with a loop on top of it. She also has matching dangling earring. Looking in her eyes is both intoxicating and intimidating. It almost feels like she can see right through you, which in turn makes you want to look away periodically to avoid her stare. Trying to maintain the eye contact just about makes your eyes water. You soon notice that when you look away she follows you to maintain the eye contact.

You sit all the way back on the couch, and then she scoots closer. You take a deep sigh, and then say, “Shit … I’m just a real nigga. Flat out. Ask anybody that shit. I keep it all the way trill. You feel me?”

Looking a little disappointed by your response, she responds with, “I hear you, but I don’t feel you. You didn’t answer my question. I wanted to know why yo boy called you a real nigga. Why—are you a real nigga? What—have you done—that qualifies you—to be a real nigga? I mean … did he call you a real nigga because you play with hammers? did he say it because you been to the joint? Did he say it because you fuck a lot of hoes? Did he say it because you push work? Did he say you a real nigga because you a jack boy, you like layin niggas down? Is that what qualifies you to wear the title, ‘Real Nigga’. Boo … you gotta break it down to me”.

You are shocked to say the least, which in turn sparks this response from you, “Damm … you a muthafucka! But I like a challenge though. But what kind of shit is you on? You talk reckless as fuck!”

So, while you sit there dealing in emotion, she sits there cooler than a fan in wintertime chilling on a deep freezer checking you out. She not feeling your swag, and never was.  She thought you were cute, so she indulged you. Never once seeing you as an equal, but more like a mouse trapped in a maze being trained to hunt cheese.

Looking in your eyes she says, “If I offended you, I’m sorry, though I’m far from being sorry. There is nothing sorry about my divinity…I’m just trying to figure you out”.

You stare at her for a second, and then it hits you.  You start to feel it. You’re starting to think to yourself that you may have bit off a little more than you can chew. But, you are by no means a quitter. And, even though you couldn’t figure her out, you decide to take another crack at it. So, you tell her, “Yeah … that’s why I’m a real nigga. But, that ain’t the only reason why I’m a real nigga. I take care of my neggas. If shit need to get bodied, or laid down for one of my neggas, then fuck it, that’s what it is. My neggas will do the same shit. If neggas look out for me, I’ll look for them. If neggas show me love, I’ll show them same neggas more love. I take care of my sister and all her kids. I pay my momma’s and my sisters bills. That’s why I’m a real nigga, cause real niggas do real nigga shit.”

You stare at her while she quietly sits there nodding her head. But she doesn’t nod in agreement.  She nods because she told herself that all niggas sound like broken records repeating the same ole ignorant nonsense as if they were born with a manual of dumb shit to say. So, with a deep sigh, she replies, “I heard some of what you said, and I was feeling some of what you said. Taking care of your family makes you a real man, not a real nigga. I mean think about it … what does negga mean? The dictionary defines the word nigger or niggardly as ignorance or derogatory term for black people. I could go deeper into the etymology of the word nigger, but i dont think you would understand. So, do you really want to associate this word with yourself? What are you saying about yourself or others saying about you when you or they say, ‘I’m a real nigga,’ or ‘I fucks with nothing but real niggas. These same real niggas saggin they pants, showing the world they ass by robbing, and killing their people, by selling that narcotic death to their people, and by giving the opposite sex incurable diseases. If you ask me, I think these so called real niggas got being a real man confused with being a real nigga. They are not the same. There is a difference. Real niggas need to understand that. Real niggas need to understand that real men take care of their families, real niggas don’t. Real niggas play with hammers for dumb reasons, real men don’t. Real men have a problem with taking stuff from people that don’t belong to them, because they worked too hard for their own. Real niggas don’t give a fuck. So boo … there is a difference. A man—ain’t a slave, because he’s not a negga. A negga is a slave, or should I say, that’s what the slave master used to call his slaves. And since the slave master wasn’t big on teaching his slaves how to read or speak properly … slang and Ebonics were born. Or, should I say the word negga was born. So, a man who refers to himself as a nigga or negga aint really a man, because he is telling the world ‘I’m ignorant because I say I am and, ‘I am a slave who will do masters job for him. Can’t have massah bruising his hands and feet walking all over and beaten up on us poe niggas. I has tah do it fo him. I has tah rape and beat black women fo him. I has tah rob and kill neggas fo him’. “Do you feel me or am I trippen?” She says leaning toward you, her face is like 12 inches from yours. All the while she is reading the confusion and anger in your face. It’s almost like she is enjoying it.

From reading you, she thinks to herself, “I hope I ain’t made this brutha wanna run to them she devils. Oh well if I did. They can have all them real niggas. Let them fuck they lives up instead of ours. Let them get turned out young and dumb, drinking, smoking, fucking and dropping out of school thinking it’s cute or cool just for some dick…I ain’t the one”.

You mad as fuck. You want to slap sparks out this bitch because you know she just disrespected you in ways you don’t even understand. So, you stand up, and then say, “Man… I’m feeling some muthafuckin kind of way!”

She looks up at you, while pulling you back down by the hand she says, “You asked me what was on my mind boo. I just assumed you really wanted to know, or why else would you ask?!”

Now you really pissed, because you feel like she just came at you like a straight sucka. You know you ain’t never been that. So, the first thing that comes out your mouth without thinking is the word…


AAliyah shrugs her shoulder as you walk away. She’s use to getting those types of responses from what she considers to be weak men, little boys wearing the skin of a grown man. But she says one more thing to you before you walk out of hearing range. “I’d rather be a bitch then a real nigga”, she says as she starts singing and grooving to the Keri Hilson song ‘slow dance’…

Got you in my element

 Time to represent who you wit…

The whole world staring at the both of us

and I’m giving you all my love.”

You walk over to yo negga Dell and notice he is laughing.  You say, “Negga … that bitch is fried. Negga…I almost punched that hoe in her shit.”

Dell is now laughing so hard that he got you wondering what the fuck is so funny. So you ask him, “Negga…what the fuck is so funny?”

It’s at this time that you pay attention to the female that he had been sitting with since you walked in the door.

“My negga…” Dell says. “That shit funny because you like the fourth negga to try and holla at that bitch and leave salty as fuck. She been sitten right there all night shitten on neggas…lol.  Me and her cousin been sitten here betting on how many neggas go over there and leave salty. This bitch just got me for another fifty bucks”, he says laughing.

“I ain’t betting no more. I just knew yo pimpin ass was gonna knock her off. If you couldn’t knock that bitch, it’s a wrap. Shit…if she don’t fuck with real niggas, what kind of neggas do she fuck wit?



“The moral of the story is perception and projection….how we perceive ourselves is what we project to the world of what we think we see in the mirror. Most of us have been brainwashed and conditioned on what to see as a real nigga, and because of that conditioning we break our necks to project it. It has become a culture all on its own. A culture we aspire to and think we are supposed to be. We view any behavior contrary to it as corny even though our quests to be real niggas has and always real result in the same negative results; prison, fatherless children, death and a whole slew of other consequences. It is imperative that we change how we perceive ourselves. We must see ourselves as divine beings so that we may project our divinity and change our condition in the world and then change the world…we must remember that we founded every ancient civilization in the world and it technology that can’t even be replicated even today.”