Then I went to city park
to feed breadcrumbs to pretty larks.
I brought my niece Elise
and my nephew Patrice.
Well we stayed 'til after dark.
My brother's wife, she called me,
so I waived the dollar-nine fee.
She wants her kids.
So I closed my lids,
and I told her that that won't be.
Sorry, I'm taking them now, they're mine.
I'm not wantin' to listen to her whine,
so I hung up the phone,
let out a moan,
said it's time to go, it's after nine.
The children asked when they're going home.
"Well, we're hittin' the road, going to roam."
After 77 miles of driving,
they both got to crying'
and I told 'em to SHUT THEIR ******' MOUTHS.
I pulled over the car at Oregon Shortine,
took the W. Michigan Cross to Madison
merged to Blancheflower Ave.
Wait!

I said stay right ******' there.
I opened the trunk.
And with a THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!
I bashed out their brains on the seats.




How are you, my friends?
I miss you, I was hanging out with some unsavory joggers,
and they always wanted to see some buffalo.



So I cleaned the seats.


I love a machine, I love a machine. I love a machine. How can this be, how can I feel so eruditely unclean? Is this the ends to my ill-gotten means? So how are you?


Then I left them lying there, across from the Lebanon Computer Cafe.
So I left them-


Advise me...


It was after all getting late.


My life is a net, my life is a net. I swirl and unfurl and stone the design, I curse myself, my heartstring facsimile. I played piano to forget, but my mind needs 89 keys to remember how to do that, and all I had was 88.


So I went to bed.

It was tea time.

Pounding bass.
Sub-sonic strobes.
Synthetic smoke.
Alone on the dance-floor
I was glad to see another
clubbers curves move in rhythm;
Uninhibited by the foot tapping brigade
who watched with intensity.

You edged ever closer
Till our smiles became infectious.
An uncertain bond of understanding,
amid an endless rush of acidic bleeps.
Uncluttered.
Uncrowded.
Mystically shrouded in transient beats,
we strangers come together in unity

Your hips move to the pneumatic bass
as transient hardhouse and
tribal breakbeats embrace,
The foot tappers again resume,
Spontaneous rushes
and some sulphur that is sour to taste.

We may have unzipped and consumed
to electronic tunes,
but the tune remains the same -
Beautiful stranger dream a dream for me
because now all we have between us is
Rain.

I walk a path paved in penciled graffiti,
Where outlined music notes
Amuse my anecdotes,
I walk with break beats in my blood,
With brain waves pounding bass drums,
I got liquid
808 fingertips
And lips
Malted with crossfade grins
To spin surges of synergy
Out of bottled up battles,
Even my baby rattles
Used to shake with rhythm.

Wars
Should pause for music.

The power of harmonic symphony
Just pimping me,
Creeping up through cracked sidewalks,
Wrapping shadows around legs,
Up hips to necks
As it grabs,
Just pimping me,
A dance floor ***** with
Peace in and of mind,
In circles of 32
Note by note,
That lump of emotion
In my throat
Could choke,
With neon freedom.

Maybe it’s a pipe dream,
That we could put down the guns
And rave to the drums,
That even silencers will be silent,
And the smell of gunpowder
Will squander for an hour,
That there will be a day with no death,
A day free of neurotic nail biting mothers
Holding their breath,
That their children will walk our land again,
A day that suicide bombs
Won’t detonate,
That cries of loss and sadness
Won’t resonate,
A day that we won’t decimate,
Our own race,
The human race

Maybe it’s a pipe dream,
But that’s my pipe dream.

I’ve spanned seas to see,
That music brings harmony,
I’ve danced along
An African diplomat named Ife,
Which means love,
A Polish carpenter named Sebastian,
Which means dignity,
A Vietnamese banker named Ly,
Which means Lion,
And collectively,
We,
We're individuals,
Smiling to that same pumping beat,
That,
Breakbeat,
That brain wave pounding bass drum,
That strum laced
With a graceful hum,
Making our race numb,
There was no color,
There was no history
Because my history
Won’t dictate me,
Not that it's non-existent,
Not that I’m resistant
To believe that people hate
Because of the past,
But I understand personalities,
And believe
Everyone deserves a fair shot
At being an individual

Everyone deserves that music,
Everyone deserves to have
That path paved in penciled graffiti,
Where outlined music notes,
Amuse their anecdotes,
Everyone deserves to feel
Breakbeats in their blood,
And brain waves pounding bass drums,
Those liquid
808 fingertips
And lips
Malted with crossfade grins
That spin surges of synergy,
Everyone deserves what we have to offer,
Everyone deserves,
To dance to their own breakbeat
Of peace

****, I think the shrooms are starting to take effect
But there's something about the crowd that's getting me upset
There's not enough noise and actually I'm getting a little ******
Me and the Mic start fights with the Bass and Kicks
That's right, this the track you ******* asked for
The grooves from the guys your girlfriend's showin they *** for
The fastest cats laughin while were passin on your action
and crashing your favorite pad to smoke on you favorite stash
and you're mad
but I'm in another galaxy entirely, whole
and I'm watching the smoke trail off the bowl
Reminds me of how my soul leaks out the holes in my body
Given to me as a gift from this kid we call Scottie
Cause his breakbeats so sharp
Piercing through me like darts
and the Tree's basslines change the timing of my heart
Now my spirit's escaping, it's all over the stage
I'm trying to remember the next rhyme on the page
But I'll keep spittin cause my soul grows when I'm rockin a Mic
The bit I lose is made up for when the timing is right
You can see it in the lights, collecting up high
Pooling like mercury, growing with the passing of time
I've got friends with Black Ties, Purple Hearts, and Green Thumbs
Yellow Eyes, and Blue Souls sipping premium Red ***
They burn frosty trees chilling to some cool *** beats
Well what can I say, my soul's blue too some weeks
But that's why we make the music
For scrubbing the spirit, can you hear it?
That's great, but I need you to feel this
Cause this is real **** at last
We clash with popular demand
To make a stand on our hands
And that was always the plan

So if you're at a show
And you see a cloud above the crowd
Remember to breathe deep
Cause it's probably blunt smoke

His bone spinning ****
sends my body into the
deepest dimensions beyond
infinity, smooth syllables rolling
around in my mouth, juicy thickness
curling into the air, surrounded
by scintillating trees and leaves,
full moon of delightful dreams,
wheels whirling alongside gleaming
mansions, eclipsing the grandest
escapes, soft stems gently growing
in grandeur, blossoming roses
singing in the spotlight.
a world of strong metaphors
breezing in the wind, sunset thoughts,
brilliant truths, a divine essence
shining in outer domains, more like
serene Venus, iridescent Neptune,
shimmery frequencies rising over beats,
reciting nonstop anthems within rocking
realms, dancing breakbeats, heavenly
voices – vibrant, membranes of mega
rhymes, membranes of insane lyrics
swirling through the body and soul,
slippery sensations, watermelon dynasties
of crazy grooves, sunshine horizons,
starlight saxophones and trombones,
high notes careening through my veins,
making me float in faded spaces.
His hypnotizing head an evolution
of sleek depths, tangible angles
and shapes, star-spangled diction,
systematic conjunctions and gerunds,
two-dimensional eternities transforming
the days into nights, and I can feel the
earth spinning within his vessel, vivid
slow jams bursting between his legs,
sheer sounds becoming a constellation
of breathtaking mazes, captivating
derivatives, warm vowels surrounding
his sensuous sea wave.

Die hard hipsters
Wildly clinging to images of
Adolescence
Regaling epic fables
Lost inside **** infested minds
Grazing shoulders with the
Super cool young things
Franticly plunging ahead
Towards perceived sophistication
Bearded dudes
Heads cocked at a jaunty angle
Whiskey in hand, lust in their eyes
Confrontation
Just one sip away
Painted princesses
With ***** smeared lipstick and beguiling costumes
Stealing glances in the direction
Of anticipated adulation
Dreamy trumpets from bygone days
Colliding with breakbeats
Deliciously intoxicating
Shimmering
Across dance floors
Bodies blending
Contorting in need
Cheeks flushed
From a desire to complete
Glorious in their absurdity
Pretension festers
Brilliance diminished
Hidden within conformity
And a compulsion to submit
Its Friday Night
The pressure is on
To 'be seen'
Where intention is necessary
But the encounter
Is
Everything

(C) Pixievic 2016