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(Woodgrain Sentinel)
You said I got an answer to your question,
but I was satisfied with just the question;
Expressing the mind is mediated,
so even the sober be sounding inebriated;
Prefer to see you smile when real elated.
Once a ceiling native -
stuck between the sky and feelings sated by the earth between your toes.
It hurts to wring the woes from wearers when they wetted down
but worry not with love we heaven bound.
The setting now is different; shift it...
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(Osiris Booque)
I used to put
pasta shells on
Popsicle sticks
For arts and crafts sake
Then when that was done
Head to my teetees house in Jersey to grass rake with my uncle
The marine who taught me about push ups
And how to tuck that shirt in and look clean
His brother used to hustle
That's my step dad
I used to get mad
Thought he was stealing moms but I was wrong
He had
Just previously
Engaged in his pops
Basically him and I, ya we both used to get rocked
Bet I'm still I'm the fastest kid on the block though
And bet I still don't vibe with cops though
Bet when I get uncomfortable I shit talk yo
And might I suggest you forget not
Afro nation
What you claiming
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(Smoke Rising)
I know the soul is infinite;
I yell it but nobody listening;
Sell it on the corner - scripts I'm pitching them/
Options concocted within the witches den.
it's interesting: We mired in illusions that we different than
each other.
And yes there's less enlightenment and vibin' shit
and keep up with the times and it aint sick
when all I want to spit's something like grimy 90's hits,
or anti-violence...
We anti-matter
Of course your bumbling hopes go crumbling ghosts of antique ladders.
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(Deep Lovin')
Oh baby what's yo name?
And where from hath you came?
And does he make you came?
No?
Is that why you have came?
I think you shan't have came.
I ment not to make you come...
Habiibati rides until she's numb;
Yum.
Heaven and paradise,
the after life:
They pair up nice.
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(Budz)
Fade in:
She desired a change of scenery.
Approached her from the corner of the room, smooth: unbelievably so.
If i had the words i'd spit a line about how she was a queen to me. Dro
instead, just posted head robust with growth and greenery: O.G.
He approached slowly, eyes they glistened something goldly, with a trophy winning smile
and hopes of skinning while pinning child to wall with glowing oral presence.
A student for flowing floral lessons, and more a blessing cuz she played the rosy teacher.
Godly spectacle or holy feature; Never stressing cuz he faded, such a toasty creature;
Faux philosopher, with skeptical response like "What it's supposed to be, huh?"
Discussed the ghost of Jesus and her grocery list. She laughed religion, sweated only the mist
of wrists which sit on hips with ism; It's its own rhythm i guess. Chillin, red wine spillin no less,
the best was what i take a vibe to be.
Addressed her discontent with setting, pointed to the heavens, asked her if she wished to fly with me,
and swift like rivers flitting wildly she answered positively,
but first get in the closet with me.
Just like it all fleeting love is yet a mystery,
All my homies calls was missed to me,
the rest is history.
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(DJ Anthony Smoov)
Next to the
coastal waters of Santa Monica Bay:
A toast to daughters to fathers' dismay,
awful display; proper to say, what i profer today, almost prophetic when it's authored this way... nah
Get addicts off scratching like lozenge, happens to often to say i'm bluffing or coincidence at play.
I say it permeates through those been germinated and before a natural snuffing of the candle by the hand of wind and heart of what we spin within.
Me and my spinach kin, not finnickin, but never had to spend the winter in.
A limit in this life is preconception; Keep them guessing.
Tree's a blessing, sess we hold it high and hold each other down,
so sister hold me, i'll hold you down for another go around;
hoes allowed.
It's ring around the roasted pig on spit of Gold and Rosy Cross,
smoky, lost, open, crossed, token sauced off a couple beers and shot of Henny.
Plenty of the love abounds.
Omnipresence, brotha. Out
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(Unexplainable Velvet)
Je nage dans le ciel avec le Grand O
Ryan saute de nuage en nuage
Et Matt médite en fûmant de l'opium
(i)
Talkin' bout some smooth shit. Do shit
Living through the music. Do it
(Wind the Child)
Now here's a sure shot take of poetry within the rhythm
coming from the place you know to be the realism
pidgins peckin at the window of the kitchen man i wonder what they think is so interestin damn
i come in when it's bumping on your speakers
doobie on my lips I'm runnin with the creatures
cunnin not deceitful
then take a step to next influence
who is this improving it with softer verses ruminant
than you could even spoon to kids?
the luminant, assume your lips is eager if your runnin them
my voice is muddy, less the water then I'm caking in the sun and um
waiting for summer's come, a lumber son
or either child of tree
the la i see in z's
and stye in eye to see
you lie to me, I'm prolly high degrees
till sighs do lead my mind release the laughs and cast away my judgement
practice different ways of having fun with
loved ones and lump sum the soil till
we with the seeds again,
i'm weeded when
i go to sleep and grow belief in patterns like the pentagram
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(Afro Copacetic)
You wit a lame nigga that's my word girl
I need you in my world girl
Tried to pass the spliff and dropped that bitch
Burnt a whole in the hammock just copped that shit
That REI membership is nice though; returned that shit
That shit rhymes with that shit
Magic
Johnson she on my John son, well grandson
My grandpas name is John
I want yo ice cream just like a swirl girl
I know you like ma curls girl
Yo yoga pants is nice girl
Yo yoga pants is nice girl
I just said that twice girl
Fiesty zesty spicy water... I Do light your fire
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(i)
Talkin' bout some smooth shit. Do shit
Living through the music. Do it
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(duncsofelay)
infinite paths within the meadow of life,
illuminating thoughts upon the paper when i write light...
the spliff. Into the woods drift;
mist upon the bark so wet so most it drips
into the depths of the earth's hips
of/from which did I emit.
Out of the seas where plankton breathe;
indigo and turquoise algae breeze;
eucalyptus trees...
Bzz,bzz,bz sounds the bumble bees.
So sexual the pollen be/e:
attaching to the stigma,
swimming down the slender style,
delicately swelling ovary
(i and duncsofelay)
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(Mud)
I aint shady
but sometimes the dusk is the influence
coolin in the ripples of the palms yawning gainst the blueness
truth is what you make it ask the quakers
or the bakers in the alley tryna break it
with their fingers where aromas linger...
pheromones in spring, then summer brings the heat up
so many want to cling to their jesus, i sing aliyah and love what I'm seeing,
season for breathing, don't need a leader
but let you play it if you mixing margaritas
switch it when we twisting on the cheeba,
feelin cohibas in havana type, dragon flight l's beneath the candle light
i said let's keep our mandibles tight,
unlock it if the socket sees the love and thinks to breath a dove of peace, expressing blessings
your sight don't need to be oppressive, feel the omnipresence, thoughts to avila
and talks in lobbies of do we take the stairs or elevator
is it fair to tell em later what is in the present, lessons taught me now extends through heaven sent eternal
is a concept tied to time but life's is tied to mind and science doesn't touch the essence
never mention school lessons but I'm betting experience will bring us past theories and
we be cooling, ask me what i do and i just tell you that I'm doing
feel the brightness of the love in your soul, the light is shed by the ethereal whole
cozy and we maxing, kicking it as one no need to side with any faction
vibin if you dig it, my insight asks who is fit to judge the wicked
yeaa i said we cooling, sparking up the buds and watch the smoke of flowers blooming
the loves ubiquitous and who really know, take of your shoes and feel the mud in your toes
yeaa we here relaxing, the vibes from the piano so ill that they got me laughing haa
but here's the thing it probably lies within perception, somethinsomethingsomethin fuck a rhyme
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(Osiris Booque)
I grew up in the Norte
With thirsty white shorties
Caucasian persuasion
Getting hurt and sipping fourties
First year of college
Got a Taste of Asian woosy
Wet dripping moist and passionate
That gushy
Addicted and effectded
Come pon da select it
You so Afro centric
Nortenos getting mad
She told me eat the pussy
I went soreno on that ass
How the fuck you bouta a say my curly haired self
Get the Japanese straightning
That's like all you white girls
Getting Brazilian blow outs
Am I a hoe now?
Because I went down on the first touch
Finger tips and lips locking lips
Hands on the hips Make the spot hot
Till it perspires
Then I dip
Per your request madam
Head twirling like a madman
Tan line dancer hips
Tippy toes the transic tip
That tantric shit
Sutra goddess type
And you think you plain
And I feel
You might not be the hottest
I
Still dig it though
Why you trippin hoe?
I'm just twisting dro
And we just kicking flows
(x2)
Shouts out to my brother ben stanton lewis
Shouts out to my brotha omnipresent music
Shouts out to my brothers from ubiquitous love tribe
Shouts out to my brothas .... Rogve skuad
Shouts out afro nation
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Inevitably, we reach a point at which our ability for consumption loses a contest of cock sizes with our ability to empathize and it is from that sweaty, tropical locale that pot-bellied children with rainbow skin walk to find a new water source, only to confront the schizophrenic geometries of metallic artifice in a lackluster premonition of their futures.
On the other hand, ennui bounds from gut to gut like a panther seeking reentrance to the womb.
In any case, let's give love instead of whatever else it is we sometimes give. And if you see my dear friend the joker please tell him to find his way back here before we all get a hernia from taking ourselves too seriously.
released November 28, 2013
Much love and many thanks to Ben Stanton-Lewis for his smooth sounds; to Nathan Jekyll for making everything sound so nice; to you (I) for listening; to the radiant Ralph Ryan Duncans; to Jon Kent Ethridge II; to Avila Santo; to Malik McPherson; to Rachel Holly Rottman and the illustrious RHR Photography Company; to the snake-tongued malark Kaniaka Ashford; to Austen Rydell; to Rake; to Comfy; to Theocharis; to Grant Monot; to Cameron Jordan; to Jesse Wright; to all of Rogve Skuad; to Matt King a.k.a. Matty Nice; to Andres Mourelo; to the lovely Lorna Brittan Bank and the lovely Elena Limanni; to our fathers; to all mothers and fathers, and to Mother Earth in particular; to Borges, to Bolaño, to books...
