| See now is the time
|
| When freestyles combine
|
| And wild minds connect
|
| To produce miles of rhymes
|
| That wrap a thousand times
|
| Around this ball of twine
|
| Like power-lines
|
| Still the tower climbs
|
| Encircled in spiral vines
|
| As every hour finds
|
| Us closer to cloud nine
|
| It could all turn out fine
|
| In the end like fairytales
|
| Where females marry males
|
| At the end of weary trails
|
| And friends with cherry nails
|
| And grins carry the veils
|
| But the legendary scale
|
| Of it all is very real
|
| With a fear I barely feel
|
| I can clearly reveal
|
| Babel is terribly frail
|
| And threatens to unravel
|
| If the dictionary fails
|
| If we neglect the song
|
| Concealed in the lexicon
|
| And instead press on
|
| In the direction we’ve gone
|
| Headstrong, just pawns
|
| And can’t resist being drawn
|
| Into a festering swamp
|
| Where no one gets along
|
| And the congested throng
|
| Would give its left arm
|
| For a second of calm
|
| Does the question belong
|
| Anywhere in this quest we’re on?
|
| This is the dawn of wordplay
|
| That serves to straight
|
| Purge agitated nerves
|
| And gives words what they deserve |
| This world is made of words
|
| They were created first
|
| And gave us our naked birth
|
| And kept our place reserved
|
| On the face of this earth
|
| Sacred words taught us
|
| The way it works
|
| From caves in the dirt
|
| They enable us to flirt
|
| With this elevated perch
|
| And make sure that sages lurk
|
| And the pages are d
|
| 'Til they’re like slaves and serfs
|
| With an insatiable thirst
|
| To rehearse, play with words
|
| Narrate and create mirth
|
| A job with major perks
|
| It’s got my crazy bird
|
| Tryin' to break the shaman’s curse
|
| I can’t stay in one place and chirp
|
| Stagnation hurts
|
| So when my aches converge
|
| To where I can’t take worse
|
| My legs stir, and there’s
|
| No questioning my path
|
| I get my things and dash
|
| I spread my wings and flap
|
| Nothing can bring me back
|
| The way I think and act
|
| Could be linked to the fact
|
| That I’ve been trapped
|
| My whole life in English class
|
| Where the ink is black
|
| And the paper’s white
|
| So when I sing this rap
|
| That’s the way I take flight
|
| And relinquish the past
|
| Wide awake late at night
|
| On the brink of collapse |
| Less afraid of stage fright
|
| With every page I write
|
| Ready to grace the mic
|
| With a charismatic presence
|
| And take rap expression
|
| Straight back to its edges
|
| 'Cause it’s fraying at its edges
|
| I’ve been taking magic lessons
|
| Since my days of adolescence
|
| Asking enigmatic questions
|
| And laughing irreverently
|
| At Catholic confessions
|
| But I’m not past lifting
|
| My hands and asking forgiveness
|
| Or learning surrender
|
| I’m having to live with
|
| Fire while burning to cinder
|
| Summer turning to winter
|
| Lumber turning to splinter
|
| Wonder turning to cynicism
|
| Permanent injury
|
| Returning to sender
|
| Earning to spend, we’re
|
| All churning in blenders
|
| Serving currency lenders
|
| Currently interest
|
| Is working against us
|
| Like murderous fingers
|
| Like scorpion pinchers
|
| Holding us with their
|
| Poisonous stingers
|
| Hoisted, sinister
|
| Over us, quivering
|
| Noiseless, dripping
|
| And poised to deliver
|
| Destroying and limiting
|
| Choices like liver
|
| Cirrhosis limits
|
| Enjoyment of liquor
|
| As a boy I was quicker
|
| I think I’m growing thicker
|
| Stoic I slowly wither |
| And show it; |
| my hope flickers
|
| I know it’s a stark change
|
| But really there’s no difference
|
| When it starts to rain
|
| And the flame starts to wane
|
| Darkness reigns and sharp pains
|
| Plague the heartstrings
|
| Harsh things mingle
|
| And it’s hard to maintain
|
| But the blaze can rekindle
|
| If a single spark remains
|
| Cymbals clang, bells jingle
|
| Simple and plain
|
| Babies age from dimples
|
| Into wrinkles and veins
|
| From the Olympic games symbol
|
| To a limp with a cane
|
| Some begin to complain
|
| 'Cause they think it’s a shame
|
| Every link in the chain
|
| Is made to dwindle and fade
|
| The only way to stay sane
|
| Is to contextualize
|
| Whatever gets to arise
|
| Is standing next to demise
|
| Death moves life
|
| Like breath moves rhymes
|
| And the flesh we use dies
|
| And never gets two tries
|
| So it’s best to utilize
|
| Every blessing in disguise
|
| Respect lies within
|
| And proof testifies
|
| It’s like, unless you reply
|
| You lose; |
| there’s no second prize
|
| So guess to get through
|
| Surprise tests, but choose wise
|
| 'Cause true lies exist
|
| And stress reflects blue light
|
| And celestial skies |
| So let the moon rise
|
| On the ocean horizon
|
| From the coast to the highest
|
| Mountain, open your eyes and
|
| Don’t be surprised when
|
| Emotion flies out and
|
| Your throat chokes with sighs
|
| And throws your insides out
|
| From this explosion of rhymes
|
| If you’re doped by the sound
|
| And hypnosis arrives
|
| And your soul cries out
|
| Well then you know you’re alive |