Wednesday, September 8, 2010

poetic exercise

forget what you heard,
i am to spoken word
what ham is to cured,
treacherously lecherous,
my infectious lectures bust
nuts inside of aural guts,
my tonality trumps your banality,
infinitely create hyper-reality,
with just a tongue-twist,
i've never missed your sun-kissed
tits, digitally enhanced 64-bits,
you give analogue monologues,
but mine stream clearly
like mp3, a b c, baby you know me,
i interface with the Gods,
5-star rated rhymes on ipods,
sick as a cancer ward,
the illmatic 21st century bard,
so, forget what you heard,
i'm reinventing the past,
painting my own future:
prophetically pathetic,
pathetically un-dialectic,
but, undeniably eclectic,
shit, i feel hermetic,
that is,
sealed like a word ham,
or, canned like verbal spam...damn.


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