The fiery sun of my passions evaporates
the love lakes of my soul clouds my thoughts and
rains you into existence as I take flight on
bolts of lighting claiming chaos as my concubine and you as
my me I of the storm you of the sea we of the moon
land of the free what have I done to deserve this?
am I happy? happiness is a mediocre standard for a
middle-class existence I see through smiles and
smell truth in the distance beyond one dimensional
smiles and laughter lies are hereafter where tears
echo laughter you’d have to do math to divide a
smile by a tear times fear equals mere truth. that
simply delves in the air and if that’s the case,
all I have to do is breath and all else will follow,
that’s why drums are hollow, and I like drums
drums are good but I can't think straight I lack
the attention span to meditate my attention spans
galaxies here and now are immense seconds are
secular, moments are mine, self is illusion,
music’s divine. noosed by the strings of jimmy’s
guitar I swing purple hazed pendulum hypnotizing
the part of I that never dies, look into my eyes
are the windows of the soul. it’s fried chicken
collards and cornbread, it's corn milk flour sour
cream eggs and oil. is the stolen blood of the
earth, used to make cars run and kill the fish.
who me? I play scales. the scales of dead fish of
oil slicked seas my sister blows wind through the
hollows of fallen tress and we are the echoes of
eternity, echoes of eternity, echoes of eternity
maybe you heard of us, we do rebirths, revolts and
resurrections we threw basement parties in
pyramids, I left my tag on the wall, the beats
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would echo of the stone and solidify into the form
of light bulbs, destined to light up the heads of
future generations they’re releasing it up in the
form of *beat box heartbeat* ohm. Maybe you heard of us. If not then
you must be trying to hear us, in such cases we
can’t be heard we remain in the darkness unseen,
in the center of unpeeled bananas we exist
uncolored by perception, clothed to the naked eye,
five senses cannot sense the fact of our existence
and that's the only fact, in fact there are no
facts, fax me a fact and I’ll telegram I’ll
hologram I’ll telephone the son of man and tell
him he is done. leave a message on his answering
machine telling him there are none. god and I are
one. times moon times star times sun, the factor
is me, you remember me, I slung amethyst rocks on
saturn blocks ‘til I got caught up by earthling
cops. they wanted me for their army or whatever.
picture me, I swirl like the wind tempting
tomorrow to be today, tiptoing the fine line
between everything and everything else. I am
simply saturn swirling sevenths through sooth the
sole living heir of air and I, and, and all else
follows. reverberating the space inside of drum
hollows. packaged in bottles and shipped to
tomorrow then sold to the highest nigga. I swing
from the tallest tree, lynched by the lowest
branches of me, praying that my physical will set
me free cause I’m afraid that all else is vanity
mere language is profanity, I’d rather hum or have
my soul tattooed to my tongue and let the
scriptures be sung in gibberish cause words be simple
fish in my soulquarium. and intellect can’t swim
so I stopped combing my mind so my thoughts could
lock. I’m tired of trying to understand.
perceptions are mangled matted and knotted anyway.
life is more than what meet the eye and I, so
elevate I to the third and even that shit seems
absurb and your thoughts leave you third
(eye)solated. no man is an island but I often feel
alone, so I find peace through OHM. |