Monday, November 30, 2009

Potent Poetry

Download the mp3, here


Silver cap, Black ink, Gel mark, That Fire Breather, Mixed with ether, get cha lifted, like service elevators. I'm scourged in paper, rolled like Cuban cigars.
I am, Poet Concentrate to make poetic pimp juice. Ask Ro She know, that 1 toke, will stroke, your mind right, take you to higher heights, than the moon's view.
I am 100 proof.
I Bathe in think, I'm baptized in holy pools of ink, and reborn a pen.
I splurge in words, submerge in linguistics, take a sip, you're verbally twisted, mentally shifted to Capts. Penmanship coast through brainstorms to brave the allegories snapping.
I'm a hunter of Puns, Defender of definitions, Master of analytical illusions. the blurrer of confusion. I'm potent poetry.
Cats bust gats, I pop caps back, push your wig back, (double click) steady ink fire.
The good book glows, the embers deliver burns to the third degree, branded like fraternity arms.
I'm the Overdose from prose composed, in the wrist flick throws of passion.
I'm the sweet relief with no grief for a fools death.
Intellect infected when injected, consciousness protected when digested,
I'm the high of my own supply. I was brewed from genuine editions of phonic renditions.
Thrown in the hip hop crock pot, slow stirred with a drop of salt of the earth, wind, and fire.
Added free-thought poppy seeds, prophecy weed, and other secret contrabands from the divine fruit of the land.
I am the heart filled with adrenaline pumping black, blue, gray blood through your veins. Cause sometimes I'm via the pencil but never a stencil.
I am the essence.
The original origami of words, thoughts, and ideas folded like no other. Creases cleaner than west coast khakis.
On the block. On the corner. In the hand of your pusher man. Find me at the spot where you get that fire breather, That knowledge teacher, That wisdom breeder, That heavy hitter lyric spitter, That levy breaking, penetrating, elevating flow.
I float hope, on sine waves of bass, that free bass heads and treble heads alike. They free right and let their thoughts lock to rewrite the plot to the ghetto times best seller "destined to be destroyed." New title "OverJoyed" Stevie won't mind.
Besides I am the ribbon, I am Visions, I told him about lies and what colors they turn. I burn midnights, as inspired suns.
I am the heaviest of heavy, I am the deep that resurfaces on the other side of the globe.
I ignite cores and cover worlds in sea of flames. The games reduce to ashes, all that remains is smoldering desires of love drunk pens, ready to screw your undisputed virgin truths.
With all that I am, being far more than what you comprehend, when you hear the call, (Silver Cap) be forewarned, (Black Ink) This is potent poetry (Gel Mark) and the first sample is always free.

Download the mp3, here


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