I swipe more brain on these pages than your Barbie doll lover swiped for silicone/pipe on- ya vagabond equilibrium, plaster ceramic antics for the millionth-time, <sigh> splice the spirits right out of mediocre minds/ possessed with totin swine, / I run through cloned zones like prime-meridians- shape-shift particles and hang them to dry/ get giddy when, your mans gave you props…then conjure enough self-esteem to actually say something hot! I ought- to render artificial pleather sectors- suicidal, slittin’ wrists/ the jest is, I hiss at phony corner rejoinder annoyers with extensive vocabilists/ while “axis” resorts to, toy bent blacksmith catalyst tactics, fathomin’ with- untruth/ The “freezing poems” part was cute but not complete enough for a dispute/ see, I mastered both so you soak in juice till I drain you destitute/cuz squinty-eyed and saber toothed-I swoop, and capture your counterfeit somber-spits/ then spit unorthodox random samples you cant be fuckin with/ changin’ channels, ADD mind-ed, soap-opera scandalous/
Cuz you’re stoopin’ on stupid, gurglin’ coos on hiphop P’s and Q’s/ use lyrics like receptacle stations/ I engage in- investigating ya bitch that stitched my hosiery/ text and sentiments more messed and meshed than Arab orgies/ hard to see- when u junction “sorbet” semantics and skew substitute fallacies/ I’m scuffin’ ya badly-till repoitre “falters”/ words wallow when- postures- hand tittie-strained, bent kneed- at alters/ then, halted when, initiated to offer another thought angle/ and lay off of your own bastard insecurity rant and rambles/ I offer samples, before your umbilical cord could carry a real WAR/ what’s in store for an emcee who calls me shit like “judy rhymer”? you tell me
Add water to become an emcee in an “instant”???? your hypocrisy has me smitten…
I don’t need props cuz essentially I stand alone in my lyrical omniscience…..(om-nish-shintz) get a dictionary if u don’t understand what I be spittin…. Blah blah blah blah...



-Stephani

I'm a H.E.R.B.
Holotyped Existance
Rhetoric Bound

The new me is like: A woman killed in ruffles; falling to the ground with her hair spread out; her wrist secreting ambiant neon blood
Juggling the moon and stars in palms; with the flecks in the eyes turning globes confetti like yearns of non-existant love...
Running in barefoot brooks; with the moon arching its reflection up the aching backs where he holds onto my hips and sways me
my dreams are:
Renewing again amoungst the mating mossrocks stay satiated coining a pith in a breathy palms; so so sappy drenching dreary destiny to bloody toned walls
my heart calls: callused and waving kites colors hues meshing, please feel me- I'm so-so soft- scratching like cat napes, round and female with sun-dresses blowing passion.. kiss the wind swiveling tears on cheeks, the light beams behind my curls, I pose and bleeeeeeed with pain on my sleeve...
engulf: anger,sadness, happiness changing to squared rolling wheels, penetrate the projections of emotional mattresses... I feel open.. constantly.. dream of my transparent body unzipping my skin and stepping out of me.. and I run to cotton-candy padded fields and glow with bliss, and he will wait with his arms open- like that of jesus and view me- patiently...cuz he knows I tripped on my way there and I'm all bruised... ~ me