the romantic sonic rap
get right into it like the dive of a bullet
telescopic vision shows all angles are congruent
so I reach for the trigger, caress it as I pull it
sight-gluing like the movement of Jennifer Love-Hewitt
shoot the music at whoever demands the most prudent
translucent style till the listener goes the extra mile
savor how it tastes after digging for a while
like the feeling you get after the birth of a child
its like the bang that made the earth, its loud
yeah, the song is fly, has its place in a cloud
yeah, its from the steam from people shaking about
my romantic sonic
rocking the floor with the force of tectonics
I meet your demand with my supply like economics
"in-trig" you like Math "in trigonomics"
but y'all, its simple topics as wishing on a comet
my myth in motion to convince whoever wants it
and tone it down just a notch like this....
Just like am casting a spell
smooth like a body lotion that gels
plus how am designing this well
is like the planning of war from collecting Intel
like looking to the future for where the enemy fell
my wording compels objects that normally repel
to stick together
I tell like the promise of forever
the kind a lover tells when they staring at the weather
on their backs
design a track just like that
its almost truly certain never but for now its sweet as nectar
or craft like a jewel and present it as a lecture
some law of the worlds, some fact defining nature
my tacts are like a stranger so nice they could be danger
raise the heart rate a little then extend a friendly gesture
the world that we live in, the profits and bills
gather until they form music on every paper I fill
with this ink of mine
snapshots of action and freeze the time
classics just breezing by
daily just speeding by
till one of us takes a second with this ink of mine
takes a shot of the moment and freeze the time
for certain things its the air they are hidden by
like the scar on the face of a real decent guy
dissed at hi, every time, wont let him speak his mind
cause its that cover of his skin he's living behind
I tried balancing on wheels with hands juggling balls
tryna fit into cliques, size, manner and all
disguised behind my tricks
the true man at twenty-six
banging his head to hits he don't even feel
i think life is much deeper than how breathing feels
starring upon one another [each] tryna conquer their hill
I am composing that ill propulsion of will that instils
the raw tenacity for odds the gamer normally deals
I write with diligence this magic, design like a report
a tried and true authority, a life's scholars resort
the manual to the sport of chasing dreams of every sort
I consider this the secrets of your competitor's thoughts
perilous plot's unknown
so I pick up the ground phone
ask an older head where the next thorns will come from
he said "ya goals often's the place where they will surround son"
"plus life would empty and nothing without them"
On occasion astound some, when my lyrics surround them
when the beat blends perfect with the rhythm I mouth them
the feeling's like Malcolm bright early and fresh
telling the nation of Islam he's last name would be X
composing exams, then tomorrow taking the test, is how am writing this text
is how am always the best
is how my performance is always head and shoulders above, eying the rest
and then your Judge at the Court house when you argue redress
modestly dressed my looks leave nobody impressed, am camouflaged
like a soldier with the Jungle I blends
put my opponent into trouble before he startles, descend
helpless and eye to eye with the danger he hates
Niels Bohr when the Quantum equates
Einstein when the axis relates
Plato when the scholar debates
Aristotle when the verses describes the immortal
Tony Starks when the future, it sparks out of portal
5-Star General with an Army to face a corporal
but still remain social like Gin inside my Sobo
but yo, despite the beating it seems merrier now
cause this King just told his messenger how...
Monday, 2 April 2012
Concept Write
This is my concept write
before the thought turns to a bar
before the feeling gives birth to a lyric
This is the landscape of my mindset when am thinking
This is poetry from the beginning...
In the beginning,
my hearts pregnant with a meaning
my pens in the next room, fast I need to get to
a quiet spot for these thoughts to break through
am sat on my bed waiting for my next cue
at first is a great blue, like sky and vast too
more colors starting to add till abstracts streets and hills
various ways of how most people feels
now am eyed on the paper for where this ink will spill
its like taking notes, when am relating with thoughts
into schemes, patterns and plots, connecting dots
color riots to scenary,
droughts to spring greenary
my feelings emerging gingerly, developing more clearly
to figures like a gas, to pictures on a glass
reflecting whoever the listener is who may pass
permeating across divides, race and class
my writes are universal like cash...
This is my concept write
before the thought turns to a bar
before the feeling gives birth to a lyric
This is the landscape of my mindset when am thinking
This is poetry from the beginning...
watch this,
bright day, then night, moons and valleys
listening to Bob Marley
and tomorrow will be Sunday
your food for the night, beans, rice, chopped in curry
there are things in this day you would rather bury
yo, its how my write takes you captive
my words keep you active, shook you from being passive
till these images take on life, becoming massive
all in your head's back streets, my words become attractive
instructive like couch sessions without impersonations
no intrusive devastations, just words for recollections
of life, and moments surreal
common to us, I make them real
when I write the rhymes are heavy with plenty appeal
cause its things that all of us feel, on the daily
the fantasy belly feasting daily on the telly
its water after slaughter for the bruised, tired and weary
My Concept Write keeps us merry... and they are many
This is my concept write
before the thought turns to a bar
before the feeling gives birth to a lyric
This is the landscape of my mindset when am thinking
This is poetry from the beginning...
and then,
I need bass, but not too heavy
cause am an emcee who takes pleasure at being wordy
assess the verse if it be worthy for its entry
to the diction of rap, to be a one amongst many
i revisit it, assess each bar and its images
size it up against all kinds of raw skirmishes
refurnish it, then reluctantly I finish it
leave it for a week, then read it, check if I am feeling it
am listening for its greatness, waiting now to witness it
sometimes it feels like its a genuis's
from the feel of the similies, metaphors, synergies
am feeling its strength write in my intestines
its ready to be written amongst pillages, pillars of scrolls
certified to leave folks wanting more
its for y'all minds to cook, I send it raw
my Concept Write is a metaphor... like that...
This is my concept write
before the thought turns to a bar
before the feeling gives birth to a lyric
This is the landscape of my mindset when am thinking
This is poetry from the beginning...
before the thought turns to a bar
before the feeling gives birth to a lyric
This is the landscape of my mindset when am thinking
This is poetry from the beginning...
In the beginning,
my hearts pregnant with a meaning
my pens in the next room, fast I need to get to
a quiet spot for these thoughts to break through
am sat on my bed waiting for my next cue
at first is a great blue, like sky and vast too
more colors starting to add till abstracts streets and hills
various ways of how most people feels
now am eyed on the paper for where this ink will spill
its like taking notes, when am relating with thoughts
into schemes, patterns and plots, connecting dots
color riots to scenary,
droughts to spring greenary
my feelings emerging gingerly, developing more clearly
to figures like a gas, to pictures on a glass
reflecting whoever the listener is who may pass
permeating across divides, race and class
my writes are universal like cash...
This is my concept write
before the thought turns to a bar
before the feeling gives birth to a lyric
This is the landscape of my mindset when am thinking
This is poetry from the beginning...
watch this,
bright day, then night, moons and valleys
listening to Bob Marley
and tomorrow will be Sunday
your food for the night, beans, rice, chopped in curry
there are things in this day you would rather bury
yo, its how my write takes you captive
my words keep you active, shook you from being passive
till these images take on life, becoming massive
all in your head's back streets, my words become attractive
instructive like couch sessions without impersonations
no intrusive devastations, just words for recollections
of life, and moments surreal
common to us, I make them real
when I write the rhymes are heavy with plenty appeal
cause its things that all of us feel, on the daily
the fantasy belly feasting daily on the telly
its water after slaughter for the bruised, tired and weary
My Concept Write keeps us merry... and they are many
This is my concept write
before the thought turns to a bar
before the feeling gives birth to a lyric
This is the landscape of my mindset when am thinking
This is poetry from the beginning...
and then,
I need bass, but not too heavy
cause am an emcee who takes pleasure at being wordy
assess the verse if it be worthy for its entry
to the diction of rap, to be a one amongst many
i revisit it, assess each bar and its images
size it up against all kinds of raw skirmishes
refurnish it, then reluctantly I finish it
leave it for a week, then read it, check if I am feeling it
am listening for its greatness, waiting now to witness it
sometimes it feels like its a genuis's
from the feel of the similies, metaphors, synergies
am feeling its strength write in my intestines
its ready to be written amongst pillages, pillars of scrolls
certified to leave folks wanting more
its for y'all minds to cook, I send it raw
my Concept Write is a metaphor... like that...
This is my concept write
before the thought turns to a bar
before the feeling gives birth to a lyric
This is the landscape of my mindset when am thinking
This is poetry from the beginning...
I "L.O.V.E." WRITE-I.N.G.
Follow me, listen close
I happened to be online, on Facebook, seeming lost
till am taken aback by a freshly written post
you see most people update statuses so that when other folks
read their post, they sound deep, deeper than they're even close
I been guilty of the same,
but virtual reality's a game
so I created a name for the persona I framed
gained supporters, like fans who love the writes I brought up
the thoughts I thought, usually were of books others wrote up
true, there might a fire for what I smoke up
self-introspection is the reason for why I woke up...
I "Love" Writing for exposing all my passion
my fascinations, my place in the congregations of life
Congression, for deeper comprehension
yo, my mind was barren so I employed reforestation
I love writing is like pitching up tent
to circumvent, round-navigate, away from what the world gravitates
to, sober thoughts dilute the drink-and-drunkenness in the plot
place my thinking on its feet where X marks the spot
the four-way, all-way of schools and screwed thinking
the fluid of reality too smooth to stop us sinking
with the heaviness that we carry
false impressions that we marry
my true intentions to study the lessions that forerunning others talli-ed
through,
from Mexico City to Perth and Malibu
am adding color to my old schemes of black and blue
heading to whatever's true; my soul's capital
I love writing for a lack of something more practical
that marks my position of mind while I breaking through
my obstacles,
yeah, acquiring statuses beyond Facebook, and with merit too
Get it?
I happened to be online, on Facebook, seeming lost
till am taken aback by a freshly written post
you see most people update statuses so that when other folks
read their post, they sound deep, deeper than they're even close
I been guilty of the same,
but virtual reality's a game
so I created a name for the persona I framed
gained supporters, like fans who love the writes I brought up
the thoughts I thought, usually were of books others wrote up
true, there might a fire for what I smoke up
self-introspection is the reason for why I woke up...
I "Love" Writing for exposing all my passion
my fascinations, my place in the congregations of life
Congression, for deeper comprehension
yo, my mind was barren so I employed reforestation
I love writing is like pitching up tent
to circumvent, round-navigate, away from what the world gravitates
to, sober thoughts dilute the drink-and-drunkenness in the plot
place my thinking on its feet where X marks the spot
the four-way, all-way of schools and screwed thinking
the fluid of reality too smooth to stop us sinking
with the heaviness that we carry
false impressions that we marry
my true intentions to study the lessions that forerunning others talli-ed
through,
from Mexico City to Perth and Malibu
am adding color to my old schemes of black and blue
heading to whatever's true; my soul's capital
I love writing for a lack of something more practical
that marks my position of mind while I breaking through
my obstacles,
yeah, acquiring statuses beyond Facebook, and with merit too
Get it?
Friday, 9 March 2012
Momentum of Thoughts
Pay attention, hush the little children
I am in a state of meditation, watch me as am building
one with my nature, so I write my architecture
my thoughts and my soul finds a merger in the paper
focus on the words, and feel my hearts texture
focus on the words, and feel the truth's texture
Dry words gather dew, into clouds, am coming through
the drought prone avenues of passive-without-a-clue
silent living, always an agitator from the beginning
like the beginning, my words calling forms into being
imagination is my description, pleasure is my depiction
words are my diction, thoughts are my precision
so don't silence me, silently watch creation panoramic-ally
see yourself become apparent like a piece fitting exacted-ly
accurately disfigure the falsehood of passivity
add precision to ambiguity, the complex gains clarity
as simple objects, that force us to conformity
and live thoughtlessly, unthoughted-ly
methodically, am peering into the vastness of anonymity
and begin knowing it and knowingly
seeming lost consciously,
the thinness of reality becomes obesity, explicitly
from high and low places
subjected to past and all tenses
space and time becomes relentless
hiding in myths cemented in undocumented senses
about the profane and the sacred
the true and the segregated
the outer limits that were misconstrued, and subdued
forming the pieces and cues that formed our attitudes
whats true seems friendly to thought and solitude
a relaxing on the grips to things we hold solid to
if truth is diamond, I respond boldly to
the need to subject it to swords, wouldn't you?
if I must begin to trust it, I gotta put it through
rigorous tests and measures, to assess its "true" nature
and when I embrace it, it may feel rough in its texture
but it becomes one with me, the being of my architecture
Pay attention, hush the little children
I am in a state of meditation, watch me as am building
one with my nature, so I write my architecture
my thoughts and my soul finds a merger in the paper
focus on the words, and feel my hearts texture
focus on the words, and feel the truth's texture
I am in a state of meditation, watch me as am building
one with my nature, so I write my architecture
my thoughts and my soul finds a merger in the paper
focus on the words, and feel my hearts texture
focus on the words, and feel the truth's texture
Dry words gather dew, into clouds, am coming through
the drought prone avenues of passive-without-a-clue
silent living, always an agitator from the beginning
like the beginning, my words calling forms into being
imagination is my description, pleasure is my depiction
words are my diction, thoughts are my precision
so don't silence me, silently watch creation panoramic-ally
see yourself become apparent like a piece fitting exacted-ly
accurately disfigure the falsehood of passivity
add precision to ambiguity, the complex gains clarity
as simple objects, that force us to conformity
and live thoughtlessly, unthoughted-ly
methodically, am peering into the vastness of anonymity
and begin knowing it and knowingly
seeming lost consciously,
the thinness of reality becomes obesity, explicitly
from high and low places
subjected to past and all tenses
space and time becomes relentless
hiding in myths cemented in undocumented senses
about the profane and the sacred
the true and the segregated
the outer limits that were misconstrued, and subdued
forming the pieces and cues that formed our attitudes
whats true seems friendly to thought and solitude
a relaxing on the grips to things we hold solid to
if truth is diamond, I respond boldly to
the need to subject it to swords, wouldn't you?
if I must begin to trust it, I gotta put it through
rigorous tests and measures, to assess its "true" nature
and when I embrace it, it may feel rough in its texture
but it becomes one with me, the being of my architecture
Pay attention, hush the little children
I am in a state of meditation, watch me as am building
one with my nature, so I write my architecture
my thoughts and my soul finds a merger in the paper
focus on the words, and feel my hearts texture
focus on the words, and feel the truth's texture
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