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Spend For an Effort. (Ominous) Date: 09/29/04 Time: 4:00 PM |
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Expressive Self. (Ominous) Date: 09/29/04 Time: 3:00 PM |
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I've been feeling strange, adapting, old habits don't mean the same as they once use to.
Officially declared in a state of change, for you I speak through the press of flesh to the black key.
Alphabetically format our lead to simply leave what ever use to be us behind.
Progression is where our future awaits for us to smart up enough to make it there in time.
Were too much alike to waste time on arguing about not being the same, you store the egg I aid to fertilize.
You prepare to give the birth; I work and sweat so we can live the life.
I've realized that you and I is where the truth of self evolutions truly lies.
I've never had what I have with you until now.
And never will I have enough will to let the love I've farmed with you just die off.
To death nourishment as dry as the earth, the rain just wants to care for her.
Bracing winds barrier, shoving off anything that stands too near her.
Touch sensory, electrical message delivered by your own personal majestic hands.
With out failing to mention that they're brown.
I've stayed in sight long enough to know where to aim, production of your bodies natural moisture, can I pull aside to pump an order.
Your hate, your disappointment, your mirth, your tears, when you're ecstatic, sad massively over populated out run with emotions.
Open and vulnerable, shield and protected, blind but loved, aware but in doubt.
You still taste the same to me, you think amazingly and sometimes carried off.
Physically filthy, intentions are perfectly clean.
We've both had our fair share of black splashed into the white, were no longer singular, we can spawn a new form of color.
A tasteful canvas, brilliant and radiant approached it in a team manner.
Now that we share more then just a common bond in which we can relate.
Breaking doors as if an emergency occurred.
Swimming out to sea, only to let the spectators believe, we've never given in.
They'll never understand our search is far to complicated, I at time have trouble understanding its nature.
The laughs that we share: genuinely created to fit our circumstance.
Care for a drink, while we watch the surface shadow dance present events.
And exchange comments until our eyelids fly delta.
Submerged in sleep and still in dreams we equally genuflect, partner astral projection.
Hold my hand and we can fly over any colored patterns or numerical skies.
I'm founded the same, I'm constant, I'm created from what you want, I'm constant.
Two birds of different species, destined to find a way to fly and migrate the thought falls under godly.
One too soar the other to never abandon, a commitment to manage.
 Underground Music · Fri Feb 25, 2005 @ 08:04pm · 0 Comments |
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Clearing Of The Mind. (Ominous) Date: 09/29/04 Time: 1:00 PM |
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How often. (Ominous) Date: 09/29/04 Time: 2:00 PM |
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I'm just a brown skin male, so relax, have a nick name as a laxative.
I'm not really one to look for trouble, but it finds me regardless.
I spend few bits of my time here and there reading.
A few more listening to my uncle while he's preaching.
More portions of it online seeking something that's not going to fulfill me.
70 percent of my day, hard to say, but I know I'm not being real with myself.
The rest I spend posing in front of the mirror, just trying to figure out what's wrong with what's moving.
I smoke on and off, but this time I'm stopping at least until I'm successful.
Took me a while to realize it, altering mind states is a personal luxury.
I've spoiled myself through out my youth, that's why my life's career is just a smear.
Wasted my time, should have spend it studying.
Wasted my funds, should have placed in my savings.
Every one who knows me, knows I've been through plenty of rainy days.
I hold the doors open for people when I go out, trying to be polite.
But it seems every one turns a blind eye to the kind guy.
Got nothing against them, it's just a terminology to our modern day society.
I won't live to see this earths destruction, so it's corruption is just something I tippy-toe and walk by.
Well, we all know humans weren't meant to live forever.
At least I like to think we do, but with a brain washed generation.
I'd like to follow Plato's philosophy that I know that I know nothing, but some things are too obvious to pass up.
Lend a helping hand to family when it's a convenience, but trust that it isn't often enough.
When 8 times out of 10 I'm asking them cause I have none.
There's a wall in front of I and the crowd behind, and while a great deal turn around.
I just dug a hole underground.
And once in a blue moon, you see someone with a similar mind state come to help me, come to help you.
I'd like to associate with heads to that nature, but you don't find too many in the South, I live in Florida.
If you don't like rock, getting crunk or got a burnt neck it's rare to come across poets and cafes.
So I spend the average day when I got an over average pay to blow up shirts and send a message.
Put the bigger picture together, If my career is rotten and only on an over average pay, how often do you think I get to do what I say?
I'd like to mix tapes with some real music, making reference to Hip-Hop and hand it to my youth.
But profits don't shoot when I hand quality for free and funds deplete.
Disappointed to see my goals laying on the ground sharing space with my mix tape, cause no one wants to listen and they aren't even my lyrics.
I use to emcee, but I gave up on that course, leaning towards getting a class A. Permit.
Cause a straight education wasn't really working.
How can I ask for something that couldn't be given.
I'm in the position I am now cause both my parents were immigrants.
First generation Hispanic American and I screwed up.
Underground Music · Fri Feb 25, 2005 @ 07:56pm · 0 Comments |
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