Just keeping my mind fresh, Jimmy. Sometimes my head gets congested with too many thoughts and lines and it works best for me to just jot them down and relieve myself of the headache. Sorry that it's lyrical again.
You'll find none finer than the Divine Rhymer.
The way I flame, they call me Heat Finder.
I'm the beat binder, diggin' beneath the surface like a deep miner.
My eyes are on the prize, and so I'll rise to the skies like a fleet glider.
You couldn't shoot me down with sidewinders or pathfinders.
A mystic chimer, my thoughts distort visions like excess eyeliner.
Mountain climber - straight to the top, I stay higher.
The defined refiner of the alphabetical designer.
But don't call me a rapper, I'm a poetic lyricist
It just so happens that I rehearse and preach more verses than angry Biblicists.
Speak and curb words of ancients, the fancy classicist.
Dissecting the English language with my tongue like a handy geneticist.
See I'm clever with...making my mind elevate to creative levels, kid.
You're blessed to witness it.
Ignorance...is the only thing stopping you from comprehending this
I combine wordplay with thoughts to conjure perfected synthesis.
It's a work of art when I project my sentences onto paper with the utmost of etiquette.
Let the truth behold, this very well might be the greatest story ever told.
Worth its weight in gold, but never sold.
My mind ventures in threefold.
It'll take more than one man to conjugate this verbal threshold.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
2010 High School Graduation Poem
When excitement meets grief, emotions begin clashing.
Hearts begin thrashing for a feeling we hoped would be everlasting.
But here in these chairs we find ourselves asking, where this bend in the road will detour all our trafficking.
Tears stumble down cheeks like our flesh is pure water-proof.
Curse this inevitable truth that forever constitutes our youth.
Who would of knew how quickly time flew -
Inside these walls reflecting a radiant silver and blue.
Memories stay true, from laughter to dispute.
We're all friends through and through.
How quickly we grew.
Closer over the years, it's safe to say that we're family.
It's been your constant support that's helped me maintain my sanity.
Our false perplexities toward vanity have decreased gradually.
Actually, because of you's I will leave here happily.
Our roots go deeper than cavities.
My platoon of astronauts, you's hold me down like gravity.
You carry me.
To say you'll be missed is an oxymoron for bliss.
Yet they insist we write the next chapter of our scripts.
Hypocrite's - I've never had feelings as legitimate as this.
More broken hearts than any amount of super glue could fix.
This is it.
Our song plays as we're walking.
Trapped in our own minds, only the silence is talking.
Two hundred and twenty five deer in headlights, with an audience gawking.
That's when your knees start to shake,
Your stomach rumbles and aches.
We're in a state of inartificial fate.
Yet as we wake from taken all that we can take, we smile because everyone relates.
And that's how it's supposed to be.
Not quite a catastrophe, more of a sanctity that we can jot down in our history.
Four years of inconsistancy religiously.
Working hard vigorously, while having fun twice as giggly.
I'm taking in all that you guys have given me.
More pain than I wished to sustain.
More knowledge in my brain than I expected to obtain.
More laughs than my voice box would allow me to retain.
Let's live in the moment, forever, pause it like a game.
We'll all live life royally, an unstoppable reign.
Now we're dream chasin, minus all the frustration and constant contemplation.
A proclamation of bitter sweet realization.
But we're graduating, not evacuating.
Those who matter keep in touch, those who don't I wish you luck.
Yeah it's tough and it sucks.
But when you fall down seven times, on the eighth you've got to get up.
Cheetah Town 2010, full speed ahead.
I wouldn't have it any other way, no matter what I've said.
And if you give us the chance, I bet we'd all do it again.
I love you friends.
Hearts begin thrashing for a feeling we hoped would be everlasting.
But here in these chairs we find ourselves asking, where this bend in the road will detour all our trafficking.
Tears stumble down cheeks like our flesh is pure water-proof.
Curse this inevitable truth that forever constitutes our youth.
Who would of knew how quickly time flew -
Inside these walls reflecting a radiant silver and blue.
Memories stay true, from laughter to dispute.
We're all friends through and through.
How quickly we grew.
Closer over the years, it's safe to say that we're family.
It's been your constant support that's helped me maintain my sanity.
Our false perplexities toward vanity have decreased gradually.
Actually, because of you's I will leave here happily.
Our roots go deeper than cavities.
My platoon of astronauts, you's hold me down like gravity.
You carry me.
To say you'll be missed is an oxymoron for bliss.
Yet they insist we write the next chapter of our scripts.
Hypocrite's - I've never had feelings as legitimate as this.
More broken hearts than any amount of super glue could fix.
This is it.
Our song plays as we're walking.
Trapped in our own minds, only the silence is talking.
Two hundred and twenty five deer in headlights, with an audience gawking.
That's when your knees start to shake,
Your stomach rumbles and aches.
We're in a state of inartificial fate.
Yet as we wake from taken all that we can take, we smile because everyone relates.
And that's how it's supposed to be.
Not quite a catastrophe, more of a sanctity that we can jot down in our history.
Four years of inconsistancy religiously.
Working hard vigorously, while having fun twice as giggly.
I'm taking in all that you guys have given me.
More pain than I wished to sustain.
More knowledge in my brain than I expected to obtain.
More laughs than my voice box would allow me to retain.
Let's live in the moment, forever, pause it like a game.
We'll all live life royally, an unstoppable reign.
Now we're dream chasin, minus all the frustration and constant contemplation.
A proclamation of bitter sweet realization.
But we're graduating, not evacuating.
Those who matter keep in touch, those who don't I wish you luck.
Yeah it's tough and it sucks.
But when you fall down seven times, on the eighth you've got to get up.
Cheetah Town 2010, full speed ahead.
I wouldn't have it any other way, no matter what I've said.
And if you give us the chance, I bet we'd all do it again.
I love you friends.
Separating from the Ordinary
He's considered a misfit.
That's an outcast for you dip-shits.
He keeps it real, while others don't even keep it realistic.
He chooses not to get high.
The boy's afraid of heights.
But he can't help being fly, so he'll close his eyes once his dreams take flight.
Nobody's stopping he; His mind's possessive - with every thought comes an apostrophe.
He writes asylum bars.
Mentally he's so progressive.
Lock him up and throw away the key.
"To the moon and back," a man once suggested.
Sparking boundless ideas precociously.
Through hard work, the boy captured the art of civilized linguistics.
That's the refined scientific understanding of language, for those with minds that are premature.
As the narrator I have to be sure each line stays on path:
The boy would be mad if I didn't virtualize consistence.
But I musn't stray from my topic sentence.
Goals became set and a dream was fermented.
The boys world made so much sense before it ended.
Before you ask me how, let me clarify -
It is possible to die but still remain alive.
Sometimes the outer surface doesn't match what's inside.
This is why he lies,
And boast's "I do not cry."
I hope the smoke is starting to clear.
He doesn't want you to view the world from his eyes.
His pains sincere, but from your vision it veers.
He let a smile that he once so frequently adhered, lose it's vividness, and now it slowly dissapears.
Let it be no surprise; his face became just another among the crowd, but he'll survive.
He has a passion for being different.
And expresses this passion by making verbs collide with words that rhyme.
With a notebook in hand, and headphones that block out all sound,
A boy has never made ink-blotted words appear so loud.
That's an outcast for you dip-shits.
He keeps it real, while others don't even keep it realistic.
He chooses not to get high.
The boy's afraid of heights.
But he can't help being fly, so he'll close his eyes once his dreams take flight.
Nobody's stopping he; His mind's possessive - with every thought comes an apostrophe.
He writes asylum bars.
Mentally he's so progressive.
Lock him up and throw away the key.
"To the moon and back," a man once suggested.
Sparking boundless ideas precociously.
Through hard work, the boy captured the art of civilized linguistics.
That's the refined scientific understanding of language, for those with minds that are premature.
As the narrator I have to be sure each line stays on path:
The boy would be mad if I didn't virtualize consistence.
But I musn't stray from my topic sentence.
Goals became set and a dream was fermented.
The boys world made so much sense before it ended.
Before you ask me how, let me clarify -
It is possible to die but still remain alive.
Sometimes the outer surface doesn't match what's inside.
This is why he lies,
And boast's "I do not cry."
I hope the smoke is starting to clear.
He doesn't want you to view the world from his eyes.
His pains sincere, but from your vision it veers.
He let a smile that he once so frequently adhered, lose it's vividness, and now it slowly dissapears.
Let it be no surprise; his face became just another among the crowd, but he'll survive.
He has a passion for being different.
And expresses this passion by making verbs collide with words that rhyme.
With a notebook in hand, and headphones that block out all sound,
A boy has never made ink-blotted words appear so loud.
The Truth About Reality
If the truth hurts, then reality’s a murderer.
Life’s a bitch; you can’t believe a word from her.
She’ll take everything you own like a burglar;
There’s no converting her.
She’ll spur you to drink; please disperse from the liquor sir.
Shots of gin back to back and now your world’s a blur.
One too many down the hatch;
Here’s where your verbal slurs.
It’s the worst when your words converge.
I grow concerned as verbs merge without clarity, but plentiful in mirth.
One can only pray for a sober surge to stop the hurt.
Trust me, it’s worth the purge.
Yet you urge to be observed as your thoughts occur.
It's absurd how many were quick to concur.
I guess your actions are felt - like Ray Charles’ furniture.
See this verse is for the amateur’s, oh so oblivious to the flash of cameras.
The one’s who couldn’t depict what glamor was, because they’re stuck in a world far from glamorous.
Thus, it’s ridiculous, how nothing’s enough.
Material items keep you bounded like fisti-cuffs.
The real world is corrupt, and it’s hard too adjust.
There's not enough hands to conduct this puppet show in which we grew up.
But for those who are neglecting such, I’m calling your bluff.
The only reason I proceed to write this stuff, is because I can’t ‘afford’ for my brain to erupt
Am I making ‘sense’ ? (cents)
Sometimes I ramble, and it’s hard to maintain ‘present’ tense
I have a ‘gift-rappin’ (wrapping), and it’s how I vent.
Mastered English; I should start writing in French.
Now let us evaluate the concept of the youth at its best.
See, even with the ice on their necks and rocks in their ears, they sit alone at night and fight tears.
Slam their eyes shut and pray their feelings disappear.
They've been at it for years! Let us be sincere.
As a society we don't find it weird, that half our population lives in constant fear?
We're blind when they thrust their heads under pillows, while gasping for air.
In hope to end reality, and all that remains there.
They just wish that someone cared, and would attempt to repair all the wounds they adhere.
They're forever unable to chase dreams, because they're always running from nightmares.
You see, I know all about these feelings they neglect to share.
The truth is, my name's Reality, and I’m always aware.
Life’s a bitch; you can’t believe a word from her.
She’ll take everything you own like a burglar;
There’s no converting her.
She’ll spur you to drink; please disperse from the liquor sir.
Shots of gin back to back and now your world’s a blur.
One too many down the hatch;
Here’s where your verbal slurs.
It’s the worst when your words converge.
I grow concerned as verbs merge without clarity, but plentiful in mirth.
One can only pray for a sober surge to stop the hurt.
Trust me, it’s worth the purge.
Yet you urge to be observed as your thoughts occur.
It's absurd how many were quick to concur.
I guess your actions are felt - like Ray Charles’ furniture.
See this verse is for the amateur’s, oh so oblivious to the flash of cameras.
The one’s who couldn’t depict what glamor was, because they’re stuck in a world far from glamorous.
Thus, it’s ridiculous, how nothing’s enough.
Material items keep you bounded like fisti-cuffs.
The real world is corrupt, and it’s hard too adjust.
There's not enough hands to conduct this puppet show in which we grew up.
But for those who are neglecting such, I’m calling your bluff.
The only reason I proceed to write this stuff, is because I can’t ‘afford’ for my brain to erupt
Am I making ‘sense’ ? (cents)
Sometimes I ramble, and it’s hard to maintain ‘present’ tense
I have a ‘gift-rappin’ (wrapping), and it’s how I vent.
Mastered English; I should start writing in French.
Now let us evaluate the concept of the youth at its best.
See, even with the ice on their necks and rocks in their ears, they sit alone at night and fight tears.
Slam their eyes shut and pray their feelings disappear.
They've been at it for years! Let us be sincere.
As a society we don't find it weird, that half our population lives in constant fear?
We're blind when they thrust their heads under pillows, while gasping for air.
In hope to end reality, and all that remains there.
They just wish that someone cared, and would attempt to repair all the wounds they adhere.
They're forever unable to chase dreams, because they're always running from nightmares.
You see, I know all about these feelings they neglect to share.
The truth is, my name's Reality, and I’m always aware.
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