Turbulence
When life is good you may not see it.
A crisp cool breeze, nipping at your sleeve.
You bundle up and embrace the warmth,
Unsure of the future but content in your folds.
Layers of soft, velveteen plush to escape the cold.
Beware the mold, how quietly it grows.
Cranial prose may keep it at bay.
Expunge it, plunge it, engulf it with fire.
From ash grows anew, a cerebral pyre.
For evil is quiet, sneaky, suspicious.
Those nagging thoughts may soon grow vicious.
Protection is temporary but growth is ambitious.
Swim up to the surface or sleep with the fishes.
Heed my warning or fall victim to apathy.
Life is short, but a nap under a tree.
Will you find yourself or get lost in the puzzle?
Unleash the vision or fasten the muzzle.
A Rap
Chicken scratch on paper,
Calligraphy to your mind.
Nouns and verbs that sound absurd, metaphors divine.
Elegance and relevance, words that transcend time.
My raps are like a sunny day, corona paired with lime.
Fuck is not a bad word,
That’s what you’re taught to think.
Allow yourself to curse and holler,
Clean that dirty sink.
Wayne once said that real Gs move in silence like lasagna,
My smoke twirls up in silence from that multi-colored ‘juana.
Bullshit For the Soul 