17 May 2008

Are you single file?

An innate tomb/opaque spaces between us/ beneath lurking, tempting renditions of remembrance/ clearance for the thought/ permission to count cells/ permeating the mist/ if eyed/ must be today for releasing them dreams/ caged up without hope/ drifting this way/ then the other/ by midnight , mass is all confused/ density is wrapped around your warped chest/ sounds huddle/ All embellished a napalm clock/ cloaks the sequence/ Offer me to the moon/ she has pained to birth a twin/ coral of times endangered cousin/ the found nation of stairwells/ close for refurbishing/ refusing/ recollected the day for speculation/ light fits a size exhaled for plasma to collect/ stolen tissue/ All in all, like Russian dolls/ we abstained from futile steps/ We went from A-Z as though they were tied to a string/ who's asking/ no one/ not a damn thing/ a crisis / a chrysalis/ set sail/ months ago/ across the moons labyrinth/ I watched the second had steal precious jewels from the circular distraction/ twelve angles hand-glide without assistance/ Now I'm all over this graffiti/ grateful to the few/ late for funeral/ they're not fun at all/ Minus the chill in the room/ capitals land blurred edges/ upside always wrong/ cab driver telling the wrong story/ I wish I'd never wrung/ I should have ran/ I did because I didn't/ I ran into a pastor/ a preacher/ he was delivering a sermon/ trumpets/ waking people/ fire from the sky/ angels/ battle/ evil/ and i sighed/ Trapped in his speech bubble/ for being / he had spoken with a burring hot needle and burned the next five years of my life with insanity/ Drowning in his speech bubble/ My every idea burst into argon/ My ideal answer wept beside me also/ Filling the bubble with tears/ When your soul comes out of another mans mouth/ I wonder at the dimensions collected every Thursday/ The beings that take them away/ They laugh at our unfinished melodies/ our melodramatic aquamarine sensibilities/ They speak about these things/ Un-eton letters/ So much can be told by a man's waist/ There are ways to seek truths by asking/ What have you learned by standing?/ mushroom clouded in mystery/ rooms crowded masterfully/ wise as the man who stood/ sour as the hand that feeds you/ until you bled/ The migrating epidemic/ The forgetful genocide/ The comfortable killer.

3 comments:

cocaine jesus said...

rap runs like poetry into prose that spits wounded bile.

Robert said...

this was deep dada

Robert said...

this was deep dada