Pandemic
Pandemic,
pandemonium,
pots and pans and
lockdowns,
now pantomiming behind glass walls
in quarantine.
I don’t mind, designed to shine
in rain
this time.
The rhymes,
they find a way to talk
unlike the man who walks from city to village
only to see it economically pillaged.
Blissful ignorance, and yeah our privilege,
ain’t no coincidence that this lockdown shows no one is innocent.
Just keep your social distance.
Tracking the scent,
the trails,
the coughs, the frail.
Man,
fuck the two-faced gentlemen-ness
way up top.
That’s what got us in a
systemic mess.
Acknowledge the threat.
It’s not actually coronavirus,
it’s the system that ain’t there to find us when we breathing tough.
Now where the fuck is Jesus, or the atheists?
Man, we don’t need him or any of them saviours..
THEY NEED US!!
So what’s the fuss. Forget about him and
the story dies. As should all biased news media files.
Regurgitating BS. Garbage. Yo,
but still, Wuhan’s the origin of THIS carnage.
Who’s to answer now? It’s not Hu Jintao,
it’s WHO, and Xi, and his kingpins, the Xi Jinping’s.
It’s those clowns, and maybe what those
institutes of virology found. But who knows…
he’s probably buried underground.
Hologram
The odds and even
the numbers and seasons,
all tick tock like a clock.
I think not.
The meta is physical, typically atypical,
a reason as literal as figural,
and well, i’d figure figuratively is literal?
Well, spatial-sapien brain with an ‘a-n-e’
because anyone can have faith in God,
oh god.. that’s odd.
But is it?
Is it really?
(I do)
Like really really?
Omnipotent jelly and momentum in the belly?
With age as the stage grows larger and further,
expanding until time twists
and space it self tilts..
faith?
Wait.
Still, inhabited as the ace of spades.
And man i’d tell you we’d all realise it one of these days,
a smooth horizon and a sun to rise with.
But goddamn, this man needs to change his
graphics from Comic Sans and drowning in misery
to a proper time-tested psychotherapy,
a lessoned history,
mistakes made and debts paid
and discipline and freedom in its truest sense,
us…
sentience?
Ah..
aha!
God’s in all of us,
and so is the devil.
Just a limited spectrum.
Yeah I guess the universe really is a
hologram.
Mother’s Day
Infinite geodesics
and love makes the music
mama told me use don’t abuse it
just choose faith.
Pandemic-frantic,
Pacific to Atlantic.
Truth be told to bear the fruit in
front of you too.
Who’s to know what’s a mothers love
but anyone and everyone
because we all a son of a gun, baby,
but we came from our mom’s.
Show some love show some love
show some love.
A watered down vibrational energy
to spend with me.
Intention, attention
manifests destiny.
No apprehensions in love
as the gravity from above always shows us the
love.
Thats the way it goes
and this is how we show mamas
we love you, we ain’t above you,
we just love you.
We got you covered from the woman up above
and down below, we love you,
I think you already know.
Infinite geodesics
and love makes the music
mama told me use don’t abuse it
just choose faith.
just choose faith.
We love you Mama.
Art School Boys
Yeah, now we talking,
loop got ya’ll calling,
art school boys underground,
run around town
causing
havoc in the morning.
The mission is bigger than
your vision of nuclear fission,
the collision of ideas and mind concludes
in crystallised visions of design,
as I find.
Attack the damn smooth cats and sili-cat prophets,
their dystopic audits,
you ain’t got shit on these Brahma facts.
Relax. In fact, your science needs a shift,
i’m yawning,
maybe some faith in shiva-shiva quacks,
cawing.
Yeah i’m fucking feeling it,
Rumi in the flesh, but i don’t mess with the Sufi’s or the rest,
saints or distressed,
I digress.
Unlike you, man, you repressed.
Here,
eat this potato salad.
I’m impressed with your lyrical ability,
surreal agility,
ballads.
But boy you my son,
just a bullet to my gun.
I bend, twist you, run around and hit you,
drop you again and again till I kill you.
Lomachenko style.
Your soul is mine.
Zoom into this infinite room of mirrors,
moire jogging in an oculus,
so run forest run while I rain in these diamonds on Saturn,
son.
Young. Shining.
Forever, motherfucker.
Try us.
Feeling cleverer than Federer,
sitting underground,
up above like Hawking. Still talking. A life of pi
that’s just a slice of pizza strings
with infinite curvature,
here to serve ya 5 dollar lemonade
with philosopher-grade piss.
But we don’t hiss,
motherfucker.
Mentally unpopular, oculus binoculars as seen through
quantum monocular glockulars.
Yeah hah.. Google that shit motherfucker.
You won’t find a hit.