black cats running out my back porch door
backpacks hitting on the busy bus floor
i'm there like quasimoto must be, leaning in on seats thats dusty
with flows on the mind loving hip hop
like i did when i was nine
and didn't know it
yellow hexagon lotus
visions i'm sending hocus pocus
like i was stoned when i wrote this...
slowing it down
dew on an apple
that is the sink water creek
refreshing natural technologies
in my kitchen oasis
so bright like the records from my new used collection
young gleaming eyes passed through so many dusty vines
ill like the pink moon i keep spinning
stupid fresh beatnik poets grinning
around me
but its the future
they're corner emcees, and I'm still on the bus
its all connected

This is a great read, although, it does tend to sound like you're taking magic mushrooms or some other mind altering substance and to that, one must object, surely.

I like the flow on the first 3 lines.. before all concentration disappeared into some yellow hexagon lotus (just kidding..) but hello. what is connected to what here.. those first parts.. work with that.

"black cats running out my back porch door
backpacks hitting on the busy bus floor"

that's the best bit..

"i'm there like quasimoto must be, leaning in on seats thats
dusty
with flows on the mind loving hip hop
like i did when i was nine
and didn't know it
yellow hexagon lotus
visions i'm sending hocus pocus"

and... then I got to envision all those swirls and flowers and have an LSD flashback. pheeeew. strange phenomena today.

bless

~~~


my
blue
song
http://au.briefcase.yahoo.com/bc/lilibluu/lst?&.dir=/blue/blue+thoughts+lunavamoloonerdco&.src=bc&.view=l

You got ^that^ right! --


Nice connection on your flow! -- *kudos*


I may return to play on your playground -- But later ...

A guitar string vibrating, a measure of my soul, a breech in the silence --
I've always felt like words come through me & I write them down... they have no master --- gsquared ♥

http://www.soundclick.com/bands/2/photosynthesis_music.htm

why does it always have to be about I
i ran down the block
i fuck this gurl
i bought a corvet
i i i i
try other words as fillers
just my thought
but fuck i'm nobody

real artist travel beyond themselves and veture in others mind finding the switch and turning on the nuclear bomb boom it just exp-loaded

TE-TE
The End - To Everybody

so true man, i even note that as i'm writing, my self centeredness, trying to widen it here...


do you know the blowing wind?
beginning with a question
the buzzing wind
shouts messages to the ear
the ear reddens, blushing
thinking, 'who me?'
a misunderstanding worth a dylanesque laugh
hunting flowers in the aftermath
of a sunshine
the power of a nother time
be it a moment between
or one in the seams
of the shrine

or, less consciously...


so beautiful
just writing words is a breathing
in and out of life
words come uncensored
and undone
into pure unadulterated momentaryness
a simple moment like the breeze
hitting the sheets
drying
in the front lawns
of your hometown
familiarity bustling down your fingers
like lace
like beads of sweat
between us
outside there is snow