Daily Archives: August 22, 2011

Love Letters from the Hood vol 4.

I school you like black folk being shown the boondocks
Every time I tick your boom box
My second hand ruins clocks
With cold play the room the rocks
My motion is curt so I sniff Cobaine
Get you high and ready for my purple reign
In principle I’m weather vain
So blow me like the winds of indoctrination
See I lay you then lay claim to you
You are my patent
You’re micro soft to my bad apple
Peach queen,
Your juices energise my saddle
Reducing Ginuwine’s first line to babble
Said I’m not bachelor and
Your bad ass is making this soft boy harder
The way you rub so incisively
You thrilling me killin’ me
Said I’m so anxious
I’m trippin’
I’m stumbling
My lips are fumbling like a nervous young bomber
Mama, Mama, Mama
Martyr this moment
This is just a second row hit,
Don’t come till we hit the back of the line
You’re a serial killer with your tongue tied
Around my hung rhyme
My epic piece
Not written with a biro in hieroglyphics
I got a fountain pen
Recognise the thesis,
Acknowledge me like Romulus and Remus
Respect the architect, like Guru and his nuances
I’ll show you,
You already knew what the blue print is
Yeah I got reasonable doubt like Hova did
I ain’t mad atcha cos I’m fallin just the same
Caressing those white cliffs of dover
I don’t want this to be a once hung
Like Suge Knight trying to sign Vanilla ice
I need more than 20 stories
36 chambers
Most definitely
I want us to be the new danger
See a quiet dog may bite hard
But a real man guards the keys to a heart
Will you fight for this love
Or just watch the throne
I don’t want to be alone

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Wondering in the grounds of cirque us,
Pondering paths circa us
Only fools rush in
I would that I be a Sir plus
Drawing you
Like the letter, pimping R to the reality of love
Surplus, emotions rise and fall
Like the oxygen bubbles of fame
My androgynous brain is high on hell water
Fire in my loins simmers like the fuse in a light dimmer
I’m a sinner, scarred within
So I walk on the shells of clouds conversing with God
With dropped guard free will grasped my heart
Leaving me hard
Like the morning apple harvested for cider
Wondering in the orchard of rolling stones and heirs
I can’t pair, us in the cipher
Maybe I have to battle her to write her
Off or on, now or forever,
The right her
I’ve left brain now I’m left stranded
Pondering my motives like an offering to televangelists
There is no sanctuary in the presence of lust
So I worship at the grounds of past pain and future gain
Trading my vices and vultures in the temple of lip service
Getting drunk on roots and culture
Biting my history with molars so I can’t taste the facts
Is this a new chapter or the book of acts?
I want to punch her just to know if she’s the clock
Or just another laboured metaphor ready to miscarry
A fumble who loves a touchdown
When I’d rather Jacobs ladder than lot’s wife
I ponder in the confines of a couplet
Meander through the maze of internal rhyme schemes
What’s my eye seeing?
Like the letter,
Is it the beta coming cos I’m honing the alpha male
Set to test Libra scales of Wordsworth
With her birth being the question
I wonder
In the grounds of cirque us
Is my reflection surplus
Of course I would that I be a sir plus
And serve us, that grow below the surface
Yet I defer us
Deterred for the detour and burp us because I don’t know how to breathe
I bleed avalanches of mistrust
Cut by the reeds and grapevines
Swallowed fallow securities and ate pride
Ever shaped to hide
I’d say I was a hero in a half shell
Yet I can’t be claim salvation if you ain’t mine
So I wonder

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Filed under Relationships