Gotta lotta locks, golden tho, Goldilocks
Head is full of heavy thoughts
Keep it light
Rolling rocks
Kinda raucous: rocky life
Up and down: dome to socks
Home is where I get in my zone and talk
No one gonna put my poem in a box
Going across an open ocean alone and hoping I won't be lost
And drown within the roaring sound of my own soul-obsessing thoughts
In a ship but I'm gettin tossed
Ship of fools anyway
Swimmin through it everyday
Shit but with a silver gloss
Gosh, damn
Gosh how descriptive
My educated, middle class little lily-white ass is gifted
I'm given my inspiration when I'm down or when I'm lifted
Up upon this microphone flowing fountainous and limpid
I writ it up in a song, spoke it in a rhythm
Leaping up to heaven like I'm a frog
Ribbit
Key to key upon the MPC like a toad on a lily pad
Flipping out my flaming tongue from the comfort of my bromeliad
I'm really glad that its really good to be alive, but like it or not
Sometimes I despise it as much as right now I like it a lot
Time I bought a solar panel: plannin on it: obvious
Can't sustain the clouds of ignorance billowing out of our consciousness
Because it just isn't good business.
You understand what this is?
Real life. Give back.
Get that you'll be a biz whiz
Sometimes the day's just a whole lot that hasnt happened yet
Before I can go home and hang out with Alicia Papanek
Pray to God: hey God: Nate called when you have a sec
He wants to know what it all means: ah, I see. She has to check
Answer is: wrong question. Quest goes in a long circle
Utterance and flawed intention. Flashing robes of kingly purple
Hurdle. Heard well.
Th presciently poetic
Well yes, I'm well-read, but I'm not overburdened by a desire to express it
Alright, yes I am: I'm tortured, and the chamber is the choir
Of the elements of my selfhood:
I am nothing but Desire
Feed the fire with the building and build another from the rubble
Love me, I'm a rapper
Fuck me in the butthole
I'm Nathan Oglesby, I'm hanging like a rosary
I came alive, ensouled and free in incarnate artful agency
Card I carry: human being
Do my time, do my thing
Cross I bear: JHC
Gotcha there
Hey, its me!
I hate emcees who hate emcees, its a paradox of my perfect love
I want the bliss of nothingness, but I'm kinda busy doin stuff
Ooh! its tough to want it: gotta get that fame quick
I ain't tryin to die anonymous I'm trying to place a dick
Within the folds of human consciousness, and press the precious tissue
Cause life's a little better when when you're not you bet they'll miss you
A lot of ostensible prophets have gotta obfuscate the issue
As if by saying it often enough when it isn't it suddenly is true
Get this dude: there are senses and there are sensory presentations
And these convey either accurate or inaccurate information
And often its impossible to distinguish the false from the accurate
Which sometimes makes me wonder whether I'm capable of such analysis
First world problems: what is this is a dream?
And its this paper cup of gourmet coffee what it seems?
What if its the matrix?
And what am I even doing?
And would an answer satisfy requisites at an accredited institution?
Cute one (shrug)
Try to circumscribe the blunder
Its a like a jungle sometimes it makes me wonder
I'll withhold my judgment and I won't begrudge another's
Lifes a bag of gummies: tasty little buggers
Ain't from the city, ain't from the sticks
Attempts to self-indentify as such have aimed and missed
And so I'ma mix a vague awareness of my origin with my changing tastes
And traipse on through this ancient place, born of an invading race
Wait, this is not my problem because I'm awesome
The hell it's not
I guess it gets a little hot when you live inside of a melting pot
Sure as hell, the kernel pops
So it goes and never stops
Howd you know the way it goes?
I don't know, I read a lot
How'd they? they made it up
Breakaway
Lay it up
Product of our brains' collective consciousness or plain luck
I hate it when it ain't Love