Music bleeding, knowledge feeding, sowing, seeding, knowing, needing

a train ticket through this rain and thicket,

escapism, placate the rhythm of my heart

thumping like a hundred woofers got to

slow the drums down, but poor men's vacations come in

little green bags and lately, I've been colorblind so

all I have is baggage, and it's piling up

like laundry.

No detergent, lord its urgent, my draws ain't dirty but I'm over thirty and

my record is.

Want to scream "conspiracy theory!" but my voice is weary, face is teary, vision bleary...

Just do it.

Nighttime. Hurdles painted black and placed before my fastest track, running with a broken back, killing me softly like Roberta Flack, so I ain't for this jumpin', Jack.

Run through it.

Insomnia. Old men with harmonicas and sadness keep me awake with their racket and I'm strangely drawn to their blues,

their grays,

their ways.

Practice cactus wit, in fact, this racket quits when I ignore it but it implores its own recognition

Recondition thought processes,

brain won't listen. Wrought with stresses.

Metaphoric Joe Louis blows

through this goes

winds of change.

Plus I got niggas in DC
That'll hit you for 3G's and a box of Yum's carry out!
Little Brother


Protest!
http://www.hal-pc.org/~edi/lih.jpg