Happy New Year to all and much love! I hope you all have a great 2025! This is the first post on my new Substack, Youngblood Elixir. For those who are subscribed to my Chris’s Substack, I’m just a tad bit lower alphabetically in your Reading List. Thanks for being here! Told you I’d be back.
This new title of my Substack represents what I am and about. I’m starting this new publication with a poem, spoken word style. Going forth, some of my poetry will be under the name Youngblood Elixir. When this is the case, I’ll begin with Poetry by Youngblood Elixir.
I have plans for what I want this to become but honestly, just taking and giving life one day at a time.
This one is called the 8th Sphere.
Poetry by Youngblood Elixir
You thought I disappeared into a hole with no trace,
I’m Building 93, not Flight 93, just readjusted the base.
Eye had cause to put writing on pause. Increased the Lion’s paws and like Chuck D I’m a Rebel Without a Pause.
A philosopher who rhymes like KRS, well my name’s Chris so that makes sense.
Like breath it’s effortless cause I performed the Exodus.
Raised the serpents in the desert, my ancestors healed.
Carried the staff through the tumultuous water
Left my enemies drowned underneath the spirit of my Mater (MAAT/Matter)
Harness body electricity, was tough but I was emphatic,
Talking Edison vs Tesla static.
No snake handling charms, no tent salesman circus,
They frying chickens up in there, why you think they call it churches?
They acting like they got a License to Ill,
like MCA buying medical haze in his last cancerous days
Or any government phase.
They perform their own controlled demolition when they step to this one,
Cause I’m the Dome of the Rock, infinite 8th Sphere run.
De Lubicz Anthropocosmos cultivated,
So I’m not dominated by any Native to Canaan.
I’m not feeling their shaming while I’m chilling with shamans.
Cause this Youngblood Elixir, life vitality, not adrenochrome.
I said life, not spreading death like Obama with the drone.
My words are like borders, you might be imprisoned but I’ll get you open,
No UBI though, I want you free, not coping.
Devils hoping I’m choking on Faustian slogans.
That’s too easy, can’t snapchat the ocean.
Don’t go against the grain, I’d rather raise it, an elevator.
Raise that recipe through the seven,
Then rain it down,
Manna from heaven.
These words wrapped deep in meaning, coffin texts.
Double entendres, like sex that’s androgynous.
Pre creation formlessness
Coming forth into the light like Lazarus, oh my bad, Osiris, twice born as such.
Reverse Aging like Wise Asians,
Life meets death in reverse,
In the womb, there can be complications.
But I made it out with blood and water on the altar of my temple,
My own Transubstantiation.
Many travels with key stops on the way, funny, those stops always called Union Station.
Helped develop the virtues, code and lessons,
I worked it all out like a Biggest Loser Contestant,
Cause life can be Jillian Michaels, not always pleasant.
The lesson is not to lessen, extend like the God Min.
Extend but still holding it in, that’s why I walk with power.
I see it in the Queens stare, cause they see the glare.
Endurance like the turtle with the push of a hare.
Dissolved and joined, like a red substance in water,
Set Up Caldron, the fire thruster.
The same fire I mustered for the funeral pyre crusher.
And dipped out on wings, not the fried kind, you know Churches.
But the Phoenix, the Zenith ever expanding towards the one I leaneth.
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