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Poem
And that is why... this platform is here for answers they can't deny...
It's a truth within a complexity that is standing high...
Let us follow the roots and explore the depths of its grand design...
Cause every line that's said is movement, pulling the hands of time...
If it's finding ones self you seek, then there's no shame to show pain...
Let it rest on the canvass, as words intercept thrown paint...
And type your little heart out, till it goes faint...
The whole slate of perception is diverse, n' is electrified when you're so quaint.
I do, sometimes, look disgustingly at the state that were in...
It was almost like I was promised I wouldn't take it again...
To some degree, I even hate to begin on the character traits
associated with a culture I now feel like I was raised to defend...
But then, it becomes quite clear.
That reflection looking back at me is past beliefs
Influencing my perception on what rap's should be...
Sometimes, I wish I could open my brain up, just so cats could see...
The modern rap scene created is a catastrophe
Reading articles from Hip Hop magazines that glorify
such a a tragic scene, a sewn in projection in which this madness seams...
To flow, but in hindsight, that contrast means
That there's no unison - the truest expression involved for pages this music's in...
The double edged sword, cutting.
Giving this  something new to get the people buzzing...
Even if it's more a discussion.
Simply explore. Go ahead and open the door that you're clutching.
Or close it n' study from out of it's outer corridors, before you can touch it.
Risks, negative or positive, is all it is.
Freedom of information, challenging the politics of the modern conglomerates
Who follow this, read n' discuss the model with novelists...
Arguing the logic missed, saying the loss was autonomous...
Writing for nobody but myself no less...
whether bored or stress, core distress from your inner war, expressed...
through dialog, uniformed to text...
objectives the key... to act as the projections our directions can see...
High beams on, light cascades the gravel through the rest of the street...
The reflection you seek through the currents, pressed in the sea, exposing the complexion, beneath...
Each text is a neat symbol for the directive
our perceptions often try to block, like an expletive bleep.
How can one compose a sentence, if no message is deep?
How can one be one dimensional, without pressing delete?
Such a lexicon of questions, for those expressing belief...
In a higher form of tonality as the tools for the job rest at their feet...
I look at the state, conclusions arise around the music comprised...
And the illusions surmised from the lewdness that tries alluding our eyes
When I view it, disguised renditions of the closed minded...
troll-guided souls citing their own science, got the entire globe biased.
Getting shifted from their agenda, a bunch of exposed privates...
Flooded with inhibition, so they're quick to go for the road highest...
Only to find out that the lane they've chosen to follow...
Has much more of an influence than the liquor they hold in their bottle...
Deep within... those boundaries, there's a layer lying beneath the skin.
And a welcome mat for that cowardice elf to greet him in...
But there's also closed doors, that are bolted shut...
Until that one "key" we've seen before comes and it opens up...
The mind is a subject one doesn't know enough,
Only observations of objectives we perceive to be so corrupt...
That it's like the cypher's just throwing "stuff"...
Nothing insightful, n' therefore meaningless.
A query for the proxy on, like "Why are you reading this?
You see, you need something that will be genius."
And I'm agreeing, it's about time we see such a being...
drawn to this scene, exists.
But even it's just a variation in the shades they acquire...
To contrast two different pieces which results in a combined taste of desire...
the collective of pieces, pressed in a sequence...
And read from the text to complete this... resonation of messages
like professional speeches...
We'll cast judgement, there's no stopping that,
but to have this dialog intact? is what has drawn as back.
From what I see in this game, it's fact!
They say it's easy to learn, and impossible to master...
And I agree, every day is like an obstacle to plaster...
Every minute it's like its legs are walking a little faster...
Every person involved is stopping it from disaster...
But stopping what? This intricate thinking ship I will not give up...
I will be kicking rocks in the pond, until every frog destructs...
And the me today, might not be the me tomorrow...
My feelings may differ and then? There will be an entirely new ink to this pen...
But I assure you, the man writing this will be thinking of him...
From a future apprehension, n' may even link him, again.
They think it's the end. I say it's a hiccup, indeed.
There will be a few bumps, but wait until it picks up in speed...
Many walks of life, it makes no difference to me.
As long as the end result? Is that you've given a key.... for him to be free.
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