donate to ya boy

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Grenade Knife

Up in a redwood full of squid
I slid beneath coral reef.
creepin the beats of junkies deep-purple streets.
I hid in beilf,that this infact
was greef.
The first time I've smiled in a while,or rather
fell into rim sleep.
I reworked the entire screenplay in this dream.
The lights were as haggered as the dull too
flying saucers...
sword fish...
no one would say a word.
I lowered my gaze as I blew smoke.
Now invision gold,your sub-concience in a labryinth...
Vulcan logic fused with Jedi mindtricks,
coupled with a swollen brain from all the wine thats been sipped....
grease traps then fill to the tip..
with old poems and pictures.recent paintings and manuscripts.
(Charecter enters stage left,sips Brandy,exits left again.Flawless,almost little to no motion)
No motivation,the heads of the corporation ask for the next presintation
(exit stage right.tame aggrevation...restrain your hands from breaking
12 months pass..
I lace my cigarette with embaulming fluid,huffing paint on an unmarked tombstone.
my iris reflects the blue moon,
seems that ill run into gunplay at high noon.
I thought today would be a good day,
yet again im grabbing that A.K.
& a long feathered caligraphy ink pen...
I develop literature for a political movement.
And underneath all my involvements
my God damn Christ like hopes and King like entitlement to apathy.
I found leadership in a dying form...
spreading my wisdom like ash to an urn in a violent lightning storm
the body seizures synapses to the brain of a monster
(next chapter)
I'am consistently discusted by the discussion I hear,read and speak.

No comments:

Post a Comment