Honesty of the Rappers

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listening to poets and philosophers that gave up the hollow words
podiums for pedants so we cram our lives in syllables
slick rhyme quick and so much swinging dick
stop with winning and hardcore repetitions
you tire me mentally
wanna get deep with personal rap rebels spitting true lies lyrical
stories wrap me in divinyl spells
tossed up with spirits and influences
speaking in mind about my slow king evolution
little prince confused by the world
living in it giving in it
start to be open and sincere no suspenseful
leaking away from mystery and acknowledging the spiritual
but still superficial
love pretty ones and curves at intervals
broken down graysexual then mutha motor ritual
all in my head to head ram it through
empty passion what’s it called
pseudo-amorous
tryst existentialist
wanna fit in liar became the ventriloquist
hid deep down and took so long to surface
still look at surface
analyze all being
stick with the pursed lips
big eyes glow face
too much adorable
Lenny hugs for soft skin
too aloof too strong
alone again sometimes liking it
escape to the lab with tea and silence
self-respect from projects and push for new build me
designing myself
deigning myself
up high and down low self-concept
such ego and debasement
mountains and subterranean holespace
crawlspace dark place
fear the outer, wrap myself in spider’s silk
bed of webs and deceive the self
finding love for self and throwing it away
fishing spot again, dismay
dis may be another lie to me

Random 1.25.17

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​Player man, talkie man
Busy phoney trendy man
Every culture scraping for cool clan
Modern society claiming all young kin
Laid down laid back coolish skin
Hot minds, ice within
Swing the arms, rattled vibes
Deep down huddled and creep
‘neath the floor speaks bloody sneaks

Promiscuous temptress
Flirty actress
Supposed to know better
But pretty pretty accomplice 
Weak in heart knees
Weak for
species

Yeah I shake the shake

Quakin quik

Go wit the head n not the booty

Bobblehead Beyonce with no sexin body

Mental health day by Bell traipsing on life philosophy

They say fuck em if they can’t take a joke

I wanna say fuck em if they don’t get it

Fuck em if they patronize and pitywise

Imma be me be real be shameless eventually 

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Salty cream puff
Dirty taste in mouth
Before the lick
Before the down stroke
Milky toast Powerpuff
Without the goodness
Half-ugly insides makes me think otherwise
Hopeful positive for shining internals
Want to hate/judge less but alas so stereotypical
Indian Catholic upbringing solid influence
Hippie Reason plunge into brainstem
Want to like but negative clique
Hopeful for the future diva but reticent nonetheless

Crime and Punishment…

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Quaff, oh quaff
Lenore’s a bore
Eyes wide open yet shut and snore
Crusted lids do cap and carp
Disheveled lashes beat a corpse
And what we see is horse’s toil
Such foaming mouths and desperate foil
Wrapped and crinkled in tight vices
Tinny bells beckon for vices

The punished lot has matters to say
The poets’ lot is wordy cache
Expelled, exposed, imposed verbals
Text without icons and phoney jumbles
Think us better as others think same
All the actors singing same refrain

And me with padded fingers and pursed eyes
Open tight and winking lies
Curse the inspiration but mimic nonetheless
Want their industriousness
Complex and frustrations
Churn out one percent of a novel
Marvelous laze and chips on shoulders
A Brilliant Mind complements The Idiot

Impersonation of Cole Porter

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After all is said and done
When both sides have lost and won
The whimpers turn to simpers
And simple wishful glimmers
I think of all the times we’ve said goodnight

These days of work and toil
Never does it spoil
My life that contains you and all our nights

Candlelights and stars
Brightly light our affairs
Trysts and lullabies we coo upon the night
Cause we birds ruffle feathers
And always do we weather
Storms and frightful fights
Whether created or endeavoured
Affections never wither
With you and me together
Dark is temporary till the light