Like Kanye West I was to abrupt, to swift to tailor the words, man I spoke up to soon and now people look down on me, man I lost my words. I lost myself and blurted out what I confessed, I was late to register for my class and didn’t pass the test. My words were my bond, and my bond to you has been broken, because the words that were spoken have provoked them, to no longer be focused. I lay blame to my own thoughts as if they were all my own, TV and Ti-vo recordings have played out the bĂȘte noire and have me on channel 666. In this state of emergency I let you into my mind, and my zone.
The levee is broke, now I am flooded with emotions unequally yoked. Losing the words of being given a vision I’m now left to choke on the food I could not receive without out the blessings that left my throat. I cannot move in life with you pulling me to and fro, it’s all like an edition of a MTV show. My mind-set welcomes in the generational minstrel show, full of excitement and entertainment, always a best seller, always a jolly good show. The vivid images of imagery of the perpetual isolated thoughts, that were not my own, but someone who thought they could invade God’s zone, invade his people’s home, only to understand that God does not leave them alone.
Never for a minute will you fall out of stride and have to spit your gum out, are we like the elephant in the room with no one to help us stand out, no weapons of mass destruction to panic about, no war to fight against ourselves to make plain about, complain today about a better tomorrow that we aren’t willing to work it out, go to the gym lose fat and get thin, so we can run for the long haul and not focus on sprinting to the light? The truth speaks volumes, are we in chapter 1, or did we skip around to chapter 2, only to find out that me and you haven’t found the way to abstain from being disapproved to poetically see things for what they aren’t and throw a coup, rage against the machine, know what I mean. Try to clean up our images of self with out the magic eraser, Mr. Clean, Mr. Clean? I’ve seen it all ya’ll when I can’t explain that I have no domain name.
Wanting to proclaim the speaker of the house, I cannot shout from on high if I am quiet as a mouse. I have to come to where the people are and praise up to God to give a new balance report, journey from the mountaintops that I stomp the ground with no flip-flops. Kirk Franklin already warned me that I’m in the fight of my life this is real, the decepticons of life are trying to tell me I need wings to fly; I looked again to realize reality is TV, its more than meats the eye.
We need Nike’s like Jordan’s, God’s true call like U-hauls to move out my predetermined premonitions, of hopes and dreams, wishes flowing over purified streams, collard greens and pinto beans to feed my hunger, sounds more like the thief’s theme. I’m hungry but what’s in store, is it shock in awe, or shock in the Lord, or was it Nas or God that already hipped me to the game that It Was Written, but who is taking score?
1 comments:
i reaaly like this one.
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