BLINK
eyes closed for half a second, my voice fluctuates like Lauren Hill's on a burbon binge still managing half hazardly to dry fuck the rhythem smoothly--jagged---raw in all the write places, but half cocked, immature yet pure in intension. oakland is damp. the streets just wet enough to make the streets and my female friends drunk libido slippery. "sitting on the wet bench will make your job easier later baby" she muses and he smiles then runs tward her in an attempt to twart her glass from breaking all around us. she doesnt notice and finishes another half thunk thought "you have a beautifull voice...i dont know you well yet...we should be friends and sing all the time like i used to before growing up."
the day has pulled me into itself as usual with its sharp blunts and mind altering sobriety. i'm not in it, it decided to spin through me. this is the kind of cliche i dont mind drowning in: recording Hip-Hop hooks on a thursday night in oakland. who'd a guessed i'd be here getting high on back beats and B-boys who havent become yet...maybe everyone but me. i only hoped- efven though i think hoping is for suckers who like to lie to themselves instead of living. if this is my greener pasture, then fuck...let me roll in it because i don't know how long this joint will last.
i met happiness again even if its only momentary. he reminded me he is simple and not preocupied with distrust, regret, and tormented quandaries. he slapped me on the left cheek with love and reminded me not to turn the other cheek, but to "prick love for pricking". i'd pretend to know more, and tell you all my secrets but for once things seem more rational then words can perscribe and metaphore would only deconstruct instead of describe.
I will say that i have relearned again lately: that good things come only to those who won't refuse them. in other words, you can want till your eyes bleed but if refuse it when offered because you cant see clearly through the crimson, then its no ones fault but your own. wipe your eyes and try blinking once in awhile, not everything worth keeping disapears in half a second, most foundations still remain.
i suppose (like the mighty mike) i am just tired of meeting people who define themselves by what they don't like. ....don't believe, don't do, don't feel and refuse to experience. I just don't like that... :)
i'm tired of all or absolutely nothing love. i sit around with friends and toss around half baked wishes in my head about a boy a scarcely know except to know he wants to love me for as much or little as that is worth. i have a mic that looks to me more like a dandelion in one hand and a half finished drink in the other. i blow skat out of quivering lips hoping to make more music and less bull shit---wanting to hit something thats not a brick wall, hopping to see someone who isnt the lost half of a quarter but at least 1/2 of a found piece dedicated to finding the same shit i've been blinking so despirately over.
the day has pulled me into itself as usual with its sharp blunts and mind altering sobriety. i'm not in it, it decided to spin through me. this is the kind of cliche i dont mind drowning in: recording Hip-Hop hooks on a thursday night in oakland. who'd a guessed i'd be here getting high on back beats and B-boys who havent become yet...maybe everyone but me. i only hoped- efven though i think hoping is for suckers who like to lie to themselves instead of living. if this is my greener pasture, then fuck...let me roll in it because i don't know how long this joint will last.
i met happiness again even if its only momentary. he reminded me he is simple and not preocupied with distrust, regret, and tormented quandaries. he slapped me on the left cheek with love and reminded me not to turn the other cheek, but to "prick love for pricking". i'd pretend to know more, and tell you all my secrets but for once things seem more rational then words can perscribe and metaphore would only deconstruct instead of describe.
I will say that i have relearned again lately: that good things come only to those who won't refuse them. in other words, you can want till your eyes bleed but if refuse it when offered because you cant see clearly through the crimson, then its no ones fault but your own. wipe your eyes and try blinking once in awhile, not everything worth keeping disapears in half a second, most foundations still remain.
i suppose (like the mighty mike) i am just tired of meeting people who define themselves by what they don't like. ....don't believe, don't do, don't feel and refuse to experience. I just don't like that... :)
i'm tired of all or absolutely nothing love. i sit around with friends and toss around half baked wishes in my head about a boy a scarcely know except to know he wants to love me for as much or little as that is worth. i have a mic that looks to me more like a dandelion in one hand and a half finished drink in the other. i blow skat out of quivering lips hoping to make more music and less bull shit---wanting to hit something thats not a brick wall, hopping to see someone who isnt the lost half of a quarter but at least 1/2 of a found piece dedicated to finding the same shit i've been blinking so despirately over.