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history feat. Woodgrain Sentinel, Osiris Booque, Smoke Rising, Deep Lovin', and Budz (prod. B​.​S. Lewis)

from (a) brief offering by Osiris Booque and Mud of the Ubiquitous Love Tribe

/

about

Of course it may be the case that, from within Uncertainty's misty eve, desert winds chuckle up hubris enough to dispel the mellifluous whispers of ataraxia, here provoking the conjoined twins Skepticism and Belief, whose stillborn emergence we've masked in Objectivity's finest garment, from their incestuous slumber, now brushing them back beneath the cerulean drapery of infinitude, where Beauty's hyperopic gaze searches in vain for her reflection in the eyes of the slumbering solipsist who, in turn, dances semidiurnal steps of Rufinol and Benzedrine down the snake's back, only to find himself caught up in its vast exhale, which strips bone of skin and blows the resulting fog Below for us to sift through as we take our hard-earned axe to a question mark's airy ankle and wear the severed, dripping foot to protect us from the soil.

lyrics

(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...

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

(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

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

(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.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

(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.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

(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.

credits

from (a) brief offering, released November 28, 2013

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

nahhphet Los Angeles, California

Puppeteer of nonsense words and phrases. Journeyman wind magician & marginally upright honkey. Matriarch and thoughtsmith-errant of the Ubiquitous Love Tribe. Educator, storyteller, collagist, producer...

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