at first when i hit record i was like

damn this shit is easy

i just gotta rhyme for a minute

but oh god, it’s not at all a breezy

i can’t even make a phrase

i’m as awkward as an animal

what the hell is this grammar

this shit just got drammatical

dear god i still have so much

time to kill in this

the second feel like hours

how the hell do people do this

so now i started rhyming slower

but dear god it didn’t help

now i just sound like i’m drowing,

very constipated, oh and i’m 12

just ten more agonizing seconds

oh god clock why oh why

just gooooooooooooo annnnnndddd DING.

YES. I’M DONE MAKING THE WORLD CRY

(Yes, the last part was verbatim. I am really that bad at anything that resembles rapping. Slow motion solves everything.)

Shit. Forgot I don’t have a rhythm.

But then again I don’t need one because I’m just spinning the wheel of fortune knowing I’m not abhorring my horoscope as a token; it’s more like Horus, no joke, and he'll have written that in a tome like J.R.R. Tolkien. But I’m not tokin’ like Gandalf, necessarily, just freestyle-flowin’ acapella. This is a last standoff between x-men and the opposers, and I am no opponent (you know it). In fact I’m not opposed to conjuring your patronus while knowin’ your nose can grow by virtue of how much you WANT to know even though it’s not necessarily curiosity that is seeping and peeking into our subconscious defeating. But I’m not going to be preaching, standing on these knees and praying to the Old Testaments. And yet...you guessed it. Shit. Ergo, we’re feeling exactly sharp like a tack, see, on this track / “T,” with that omnipresent genie, the kundalini energy. It’s going and flowing up our backs and I feel like every single thing I say or “rap” shall get absorbed with help from the Force. Know that you can levitate, never hate, and feel every single vibration, sensation going beyond the five senses. You guessed it: It’s like a basketball game and we’re full-court pressing, defencing – “Die Another Day.” 008, okay...?

I’ve just got to say that GLORY IS TODAY.

Rhyme-zone aided rhythm to lead me into the schism,

a prism of rhythmic clowning...

drowning sorrowful cries abounding

accounting a mournful surrounding

resounding darkness is .. astounding

pounding points we're grounding

scouting talent amid the crowding

clouding the shine of our … gold

told what can be bought and sold

rolled into a cookie cutter mold

bold to rebel despite the cold

poled for the secrets you hold

fold your hand wishing to die

sigh out the questions why

lie a little more just to get by

tie the noose don't be shy

cry me a river of rhyme

prime as a dime

I'm out of time

|| another-proser ||

spontaneously-

reality sings to me

in the synchronicities

of infinite possibilities,

which I see in my dreams

every time I go to sleep

thinking of the why's

what if's and of time's

bind in mortal minds,

finding symphonies

of science curiosities

playing with strings

woven of things

we only imagine

in passing-

fasting-

on lasting impressions

feeding our obsessions,

subconscious suppressions

-processions of visions

in possession of missions

put together in prisons

perceptions are fixed in

based on experiences,

held in the confidences

of our reminiscence-

insistent on consequences

we don't have to live with,

inherited by consciousness

when we wake again

in the foggy bend

of remembering

the adventuring

preferring

of lucid

authoring

-M.E.

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