Wednesday, October 21, 2009


Watch my flow spill
So dope you ask for refills
Designated to be creative
Poetry is my native language
I dangle words over the edge
Smell my intentions
Sixth sense my rhythm like an oncoming schism
I got mad skills I cheat death with my every breath
With my inhales and exhales I break from my mental jail
The incarceration and prison of depression
Trying to crack the bulletproof roof of war waged every day inside my dome cage
Faced with daymares
trying to put circles into squares
A daily madness
a perpetual sadness
But I got mad skills
I turn Jedi mind tricks with Bruce Lee kicks
when I am caught in the thick of darkness
I scramble for the daylight
out a sight
I scream as my life reignites
I sink to the depths of the abyss
Submerged like an iceberg I kiss the bliss
On a roller coaster a falling elevator with no breaks plummeting to the basement
Falling faster than a sky diver with a no parachute
somehow I’m a survivor
trying to figure out how to stay live-er
I travel to the brink of madness and back like a dare devil acrobat
I got mad skills I am a whirlwind of thought caught
a 200-mile per hour twister blows threw my neurons
while I drop lyrical bombs
I stay on like Con Ed
words break danced in my head then fled
I move in slow motion and still come in first
A chain of words bursts from my brain
Certifiably insane - still I maintain
Absconded from the psyche ward
Repelled out the window with my microphone cord
been sedated and heavily medicated
I survived staying creative
Locked up long nights
they took all my pens so I could not write
I scribbled in crayons
they could not break my poetic bonds
Dubble handcuffed in the back of squad car
I still played air guitar
Cuz I got mad skills

1 comment:

  1. You killed it with "How to stay live-er" but man your shit is hilarious.


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