Once upon a time, a long time ago
There was a little boy with a grimy flow
I used to hear him rap in Chicago everyday
And this is what I heard him say…….

He say **** like, he be like….

Ah! and I'm a ******* biter
The size of the incises inside ya might surprise ya
You might need rewind to decipher my cyphers
Ain't nothing on this world worth more than my saliva
I go so hard when I'm flowing
So cold my flows frozen

I'm a rowboat rowing in an open ocean
And I'm hoping, to blow up with no promotion
But dam, those explosions are so slow motion
So, I need some honey bees to pollinate my money trees
Cause fuckery of companies, accompanies that come between
A couple bucks and me, turned my orange juice to Sunny-D

Hide the cash for food stamps, no way i'm funded publicly
I'm hungry, but not for sandwiches I'm ambitious
A panhandler with gram plans and last wishes
Ask for the last table scraps you can't finish
Sell em back when you digest, and I repackage it

Abracadabra, I'm an alchemist, my magic tricks are acting as contaminates
I damage this establishment
They enacted bans on urban camping
If you ask them how they sleep at night the answer is
Happily on mattresses

a beast
bitterly binding
the broken books
of the benevolence
that be-seats
the thrones of thieves
a binary botulism baby
survived by
the lowest common denominator
lord of may be
the calamity shaker
shaking limbs from trees
he made me
who am i
to be enshrined by
the designs in which
he heaves the storms away
leaves the drones in decay
as of yesterday
in an electrical parfait
of symbiotic energy
******* tempting me
in its tether
as embryonic entities
shutter the flow
to the effects
that no one knows
of the development and growth
of self
and the foes he oppose
as was imposed upon
by force of will
exposed and deloused
of the shrill
cockiness instilled
in his build
aroused
in the post stillness
of his kills
he is i
and i am thrilled
to lower the shields
leveling out the playing field
and yielding
to the technical terminology
of my basic demonologies
of my ****** up philosophies
cloning the technologies
you infuse into the spirituality
of your broken dichotomy
just let me know
how that goes
as corrosive winds blow
through the boroughs
of your haunts
i can almost feel
the taunts
as i hear the boots clomp
turn to stomping through the door
enacting your unholy chores
in that which bares no reward
the price is blood
the cost is love
in which i cannot afford
unfurled upon the hoard
in torn intellect
abhorred in the twirls
of a de-cored vortex
inter-sexed
and robbed of originality
in the result of cultural finality
empty
in a sea of dreams
our heads blown apart
is only the start
as it seems
ill be whispering
from afar
by dark
yet to embark
from under the rage of my darkening heart
but if i hiss cyphers into your charts
ill become safer than the cause
as i shall get the sympathy
of the claws
across my character
in the jaws of the barrier
to non existence
its even scarier
than the persistence
of ignorant citizens
with hard-ons
and night vision
down-loadable intuition
with the precision of the averages
unlocked savages
in the ravages
of synthetic bliss
1.1 happiness
projected in eyelids
emptiness
defectors of the world
gotta free them
beat them
if you have to
defeat them in the bathroom with a knife
rip their chips of deceit
show them life
clip their legs in retreat
until they secrete
the evil from their throats
binary bohemia
pooling into a despondent
pool of blasphemy
drained happily
from the heads of greed
only when willing
to commit to killing
can we fix the dream
and control the lean
of modernized thinking
chromatically depleting
as our chromosomes are shrinking
not one inkling
nor notion
of the ocean sinking
before the rise
and in all that you bitterly despise
forgotten
as the world is washed
before your eyes
yet to realize
the compliance of failed tries
a crashed system of self told lies
yet ...
i still spy the better days
i can smell them in range
estranged
surprised
i muffle the cries
of demise
in reprise
of a new name
a fresh start
summarized
in the surmise
of restraint
the faint
whisper
delivering from here
the elixir of life's experiences
cryptically laid upon the sentences
of my ethereal commencements
the beautiful lessons
entrenched in the blemishes
the scars of the heart
impart
on you
the virtues
of the tried and true
blood sweat and tears
in the blurbs
of yesteryear
obtuse
it be my will
to instill
in you
the
jaded
truth
love yourself
and i shall
love you
too

Ever since their music was packaged and hit the scene,
It has supplied the drug needs of the neighborhood teen.
They try all kinds of piffs during their time to listen,
From Common to the DJ Drama's pay attention.
Gangsta Grills, Dedication, even the radio station
Dropped out from Registration post-poning their graduation
To the new age of crack, being played back to back
On the Sirius XM or that playlist in your lap.
Ipod's and MP3's are the new portable blunts,
Pop in the food & liquor my Lupe to get full and drunk.
So puff, puff, pass until your circle is fully high,
Off of cyphers, freestyles, and the music from the wise.
No matter your preference whether it is ***** or clean,
We can be seen as a walking, talking music fiend.

I am merely a poet

a writer

an igniter of fire

the designer of a prior desire to admire the harmonious choir

but quick to tire of contriving liars

as the potential buyers hold strangulation wires

about to lay me in a pile of blood soaked fliers until my life expires

and all this illusionary harmony is alarming me

stalling me in its comedy

they think they're disarming me with talks of peace and prosperity

as i hilariously smash their conspiracy theories

as i am seriously furious when i deliriously remove the sanctity from your sanctuaries

sketching lucid rhymes in obituaries as corrupted school kids watch me curiously

i see your timid hands when you approach me nervously

as i hiss cyphers murderously

while you atrociously fumble satisfactory rhymes

i miraculously summon these mumbling mimes

ducking before the holy and unholy shrines

no god but father time

laying low tumbling dimes

still ducking swine from misdemeanor crimes

making local news and the seattle times

as they run and hide with their nines

im packing verbal calibers of all kinds and splitting minds with my lines

enshrined

The words are bleeding out, and pooling into stagnant solace.

The drive-less inhibitions of roads ends, losing me in the after thoughts of my reflections now lost to oblivion.

The stillness is heavy.

Devoid of imagination, and wonder, i am null in the nothing.

Devoid of the spark that turned to fire, i am aware of nothing.

Focusing on nothing unfurling in the darkest of hours, accepting the timelessness, of my limited consciousness, drifting outside of self, through the fruitless branches of my destination unbeknown to me.

All roads leading into themselves.

The means, justifying the ends, as my eyes only but close in settled closure.

I am closer to god in knowing.

In knowing nothing within this dreamless sleep that i keep to myself.

The low humming encapsulating the causeless cyphers of thine own obscurity.

Blurred.

Wordless.

My words are worthless, as they collapse into non-existence, and erupt upon the other side in a foray of images unseen by unlooking ears that peered into the sounds of sights heard, but only once.

Written, but only once.

Forgotten, but only once.

The sun shone but once, and the grass grew over the sidewalk.

I see circles defined by squares in cyphers deciphered from tongues gone silent, patiently waiting for the next man to hear.

What am I trying to hide?
Am I a freak?
Or do I just perform the freak
These masks reflect slivers of me
A differing defense that protects the darkest parts of me
By shielding it in light
One never sees the monster
Hiding in the open
No one ever suspects that I am hiding someone
When they are staring it in the face

What part of me do each of these reflect?
Who am I?
The man who performs shards of his character,
But never the full act.

I am the Anonymous Ally
Taste me
With all the colors if the rainbow
I am not gay, straight, bi, or trans
I am just the idea
That we are all human

I am called the Goth suit
I am not a character as much as I’m armor
A suit using my darker side to shield my vulnerable core
By usurping the fashion of a subculture already too diluted
The flames crawl from the ground
Feeding on my poisoned heart
Subliming into scarlet remorse leaking from my eyes

I am Broken Promises
Wrapped in the discarded and forgotten relics of lovers past
Much like they discarded and forgot me
The heart never forgets
It just scars over
And now I’ve created this character I can’t get away from

I am the Leprechaun
A caricature of a culture I do not participate in
But am suspiciously genetically a part of
I am American, diluted Irish sprinkled with Scottish and German
And I don’t even know that
Pass me another drink
****, I hate beer
I’ll be sleeping it off in the tent
Then disappear

I am the Clark Kent mask
Call them hipster glasses if you will
I came to them on my own as a way to soften the blow of my intensity to the public. These glasses hide a super man.
Or maybe, just a bizarro.
I look where others are blind
I perceive what goes unnoticed
Appearances deceive
And I’ve tricked you into seeing into the real man’s eyes

I, I am the Chaos Lantern
Chaos is the natural state of the universe.
There are no rules,
No laws that were not meant to be broken.
Change and flux are the lifeblood of the universe
I, I will restore it to its former glory.
Anything is possible at any time for no reason

I am Mirrors and Gears
I am the human mind wearing the man
Reflections of energy
Moved by an ancient machine
Shattered by each new branching neuron
Pushed ever forward into a pointless oblivion
A spider web of pieces that eventually consume themselves
I am a paradox.
I see the world as color and feeling, fire and ice, machine and nature, reflections and shards, darkness and light.

I am the Manic Hammer
The moment you put a barrier on something
Is the moment you create an obsession to break it
This is my tangible fight for control over the anger
By succumbing to it
I am the rage given form
The unjustified hammer of indignity
And pure primal power

I will violently and passionately take revenge on the world for the sin of my birth
I will give so much of myself to the quest that nothing of the man will be left
In the end, the man will become the journey
I am full of all of the evils in the world
Just waiting to see how many people open me

I am The DestructiKing
The ultimate evolution
When the hammer falls
Into regal splendor
And Rage gives way to hope

I am just a man appropriating another culture
A name does not exist for me yet
My process is like a quilt
I fabricate each part piece by piece
Then painstakingly (painfully) stitch them together
For now I am just a collection of past fashion faux-pauxs
A remake of a shell I used to be

I am the Box Man
A walking, blank picket sign
For a protest with no purpose
Righteous indignation and class warfare
A rebel without a cause
And plenty of cause for alarm

I am Anonymous America
I’m not fully me
I am a merging of several different people
Conflicting ideas and injustices merged into a formless identity
The American Dream
Merged with the Nightmare
Neither, not sure of what they mean

I am Blue Collar
***** jeans and Blue name tag
Swearing my way through tedious, 10 hour shifts
Earning my right to drink like a man

I am White Collar
A silk noose around my neck
A keyboard eroding my fingertips
Earning my right to Caucasian entitlement

I am Gray collar
Busting my *** one minute
Sitting on it the next
Being told what to do
While barking out commands to others
***** jeans
Over a starched polo
Earning my right to an identity crisis

I am a student
In an academic stupor hangover
Cramming facts and figures
Crunching deadlines
And lamenting the pains as my mind expands
Forced against the bubble of its previous limiting confinement

I am an Acolyte of the Covenant of Primus
I am more than meets the eye
A real person in disguise
Watch me transform into something beautiful
I am trying on religion
With the only thing I’ve ever worshipped
The fantasies of childhood

I am the Jesus of the Junk
Garbage comes to me and through me is redeemed and reborn
I feed off our throwaway society
Your trash is not only treasure
It’s my sustenance
You may see garbage
I see endless possibilities
I walk on the fetid waters of our decadence

I am the AntiFather
A contradiction in terms
A childish babble
It is not my job to be the God Father
I will not remake you in my image
I will wear, and shape, and polish, and break you
Into a man better than this false idol
The Father is fallible, mortal, and full of sin

I am the Phoenix
I am fire, passion, energy, color, light, warmth, and volatility.
It started with a broken heart.
Through the crack seeped liquid fire.
Burned away all that I was.
Purified me
Boiled me down
And rebuilt me.
From the ashes rose a better, broken man.

I am Ryan and Lisa
Two hearts merged into one
All twisted into each other
Until only the twist is left
When they eventually unravel
Neither could ever be called whole again

I am the Jail Baby
A helpless coincidence of accidents
Born incarcerated
Forever trying to be free
A double helix chain, shackling me to a broken past,
Keeps me tied to my bars

We are the Amalgams
The point in which the flux of personal identity converges
Different pieces of each mask,
Fragmented, devastated, shattered, stitched, traumatized, and melded
We merge, we flow, and flux
Always the river
Never the same river twice

I am a schizophrenic collection of ideas given form
Some halfway
Others still growing
I am one that exists as many
An imagined multiverse constantly crashing into each other
The broken mirror reflecting all the possibilities
Perceived through incoherent, skewed symbolism
A lens of light, color, and cyphers
It’s my mind that fractures
And births my many selves
I am an amalgam of brilliant and idiotic moments in constant flux

Art is the process of Destruction
Take it apart
Distill the remnants to their core essence
Then remake them in your own image

I am my layers.
We are all one
Each a piece of the other
We are Ryan

I remember back in the day when we stuck and broke the curfew rules.
We tried hanging with big kids but they were too cruel.
You remember when we tried to puff the smoke.
Try’na hang with the local crew and act like we were tough.
Man those days were fun but life in the hood was rough.
We didn’t realize that the times we cruel,
We just had our fantasy dreams, that one day we’d rule.
We used to kick it afterschool and spit raps in cyphers,
Knowing school was over, it used to get us all hyper.
Man you was funny sometimes corny,
But you still made me laugh.
Remember when we stole chips and candy from Moe’s old store,
We got grounded a week doing house chores,
I thought we’d never see the sunshine again.
I miss those days.
Especially because your not here.
I tell those stories often
because the memories are dear.
You was my main friend.
Thanks for everything.
Rest in peace.

I watched the sky bleed red last night,
It was a beautiful sight,
Maybe God cut the sunset with a knife,
Left it to die, or maybe
Bleeding is a new way of life?
Under a guise that maybe
Daytime isn't what I'm supposed to like,
And the devil's filled with spite
So he takes away the light, like,
"My shadow... touches"

Darkness, creeps, over, me,
Why, am I, scared?
Darkness, creeps, over, me,
God told me, to be-ware
I, didn't, listen
Devil pulls me, by the, hair

He said

You know your idolized reality?
It's a lie, my disciple
Can't hide your broken mentality,
You can write these peace cyphers
But what does it change, in actuality ?
Not a **** thing, young writer
Let's skip the formalities and say that
At night, I creep up in ya head like,
"I'm here, start running"


Darkness, creeps, over, me,
Why, am I, scared?
Turning, to the, word, but
God, wasn't, there,
I, should've, listened, but I
didn't, really, care,

Last night, the devil crawled in my bed like,
"Make space, we're sharing."

The world combines
and also scatters
as leaves blow
and flowers wither.
The road
descends into countless paths
all leading to the same proverbial city.

what roads
and who walks on them?
The stone are ancient
and their cyphers
echoe at the press of footsteps.

The scruples
in my shoe
hurt as each foot
places itself before other
The way commodious
but the same direction.

the cobblestones
with cliqued mortar
for we believe
in our personnel goodness.


For the lamp
of your words do not
surround me
and in the darkness
my feet will stumble
my ways confuse themselves
in speaking.

No cup or sword
is given
though they are suggested
in the tongue.
Either a floating city
or a place i have dug
of endless passages
in dark labors
with the hands of my limitations
endless without exit
my thumbs pickle
for i am
a lost pilgrim
seeking providence.

as i pass
a red rose luminous
at the crossroads
may i like a prophet
find shelter in your petals
or solace
in your thorns.

I am too sophisticated
for such a plant
for I am not
a lotus  eater.

Dim and dreary
a proverb is written
on the chalkboard of my eyes
“Do not mock for as you are
so shall you walk.”

I sing
some broken poems
then simply
return to the journey.

From lengthy conversations to small talk being the new deep..lost generation..
I could never love you deserving.
I could never make it beautiful either. You walked away, I commend you on the well executed escape plan.
the contemplating, gun to the head girl, was not granted the pleasure of seeing your long black hair blow in the wind with the willows. all i could do was put the phone down.

-catharsis.
Cyphers , seeking enlightenment.

Philosopher's stone of a different kind,
grant me now this wish of mine:

The ability to speak with anyone--
from future, present, or the past--
regardless of their native tongue,
answer any question asked.

Talent will not to me be constricted,
to my descendants shall it be passed.
Wisdom shall become depicted,
as our knowledge is amassed.

Scholars, engineers, artists, and writers--
endless possibilities for who we become.
Fabric of time, personal cyphers:
this knowledge begets new freedom.

have been quoted before,
holy books, those with no label.

no one reads them, tied, just for
decoration. he said it was a
statement. unopened it spoke,
of double numbers.

wept, could not read
here,  now weeping cannot
know these words and cyphers.

a forbidding thing, to speak
in symbols, yet some
still do.

she said this is not the real world.

sbm.

It has been long, this silence
Words pursed on lip edges that round with smiles instead of saying what needs to be said
Dust here, really
Drawing circles with found sticks that whisper stories of gusty gales and fruit that hung too heavy
Circles turn to cyphers that I use to channel this lack of thought
I need a taste, just one
Something sweet and sticky
Someone worthwhile and not too picky
For my standards lay between these stories and me

To think of our modern communications,
Those strings of code, packets of data
travel across the globe. So many
transmissions, matters so complex
achieved with such ease, and words
exchanged without a thought for eaves'.

Some messages wander odd paths,
Signed communiques, cyphers
and other cryptic methods
to verify information
and keep secrecy intact.
Lucid whispers
in the static