One of Four (2013)

Every head bowed, every eye closed, 

As the Sultan disrobes, 

My poems add life to yet another part of the globe, 

I speak bold, 

Because my kind is owed, 

Strut around like I own this place, 

Metaphorically immortal, high as freebase, 

My arrogance breeds hate, 

I concede fate, 

Delete fakes, 

Teach apes, 

Seek papes, 

And elevate race, 

Utilizing the tried and true techniques of my favorite rap greats 

That I used to enjoy on those old cassette tapes, 

You should seek shelter and see to your children and spouse, 

Because the cannibal’s out, 

And I’ll turn this mutha phucka into animal house, 

As I’m debating with kings on where I’d stand in a bout, 

You’re pitifully fantasizing about having another man in your mouth, 

Rhymes are hardened by memories 

Of the blood shed by the Blackman in the south, 

Enhanced imagery capsules with bimbos prancing about, 

Scandals throughout, 

I avoid the rubbish and nonsense to bomb tents, 

I got that calm sense, 

Of one who is verbally accomplished, 

Inspired by God and otherworldly confidence, 

I had a flirtation with omnipotence, 

She was into bondage, 

Simply put, 

I’ve been the Don since, 

Lines open minds like a surgeon, 

Fit words in, 

Like, 

“if you’re broke, you probably shouldn’t be splurging,” 

Syllables impregnate virgins, 

On my third wind, 

Flashback to a time when I committed my first sin, 

How simple life used to be, 

Oh, how subtle the earth spins, 

Humble in person, 

But on verses, the verbs win, 

My own biggest fan, 

With a flow sicker than a van full of AIDS infected trans, 

I’m a natural, 

Like my tan, 

Ultimately, 

I’m better than no man, 

But I refuse to just pound sand, 

Who am I kidding, 

I’m better than that jackass over there, 

Poetically, 

I’m Ali with a touch of Ric Flair, 

Smooth and debonair, 

Could’ve played Bond, 

But my shade wasn’t fair…enough, 

Side note, 

Your woman probably left you because you won’t there enough, 

Still got my vault of volumes in case the aliens don’t find me rare enough, 

That potent stuff, 

Mind benders, 

Unspoken trusts, 

Designs of which, minimize mere mortals to dust, 

Adjust your brain frequency, 

Digest diamonds that destroy delinquency, 

Dictator of sorts, 

But in times of anarchy, 

It may prove to be man’s last resort, 

Import wisdom in your thinking, 

I usually stay clear and level headed, 

That’s probably why I was never big on drinking…

(Intermission)

When I speak, the stones shift, 

As I expose my cloned gifts, 

I’m merely passing by, 

And ladies are jacking-off to mere cologne sniffs, 

But I don’t trip, 

Because I already have someone to come home with, 

Share my dome with, 

Still, 

I attend to my finely honed rifts, 

I won’t slip, 

And trust, 

There ain’t a poet in this mutha phucka I won’t rip, 

I’m too clean for a royal rumble or a bunkhouse stampede, 

Kill that ‘king of the jungle’ ‘Apollo Creed,’ 

I’m of an alien breed, 

Cleverly conceived, 

Had onlookers deceived, 

On some “make-believe” like Christopher Reeves, 

Super, 

In the monumental feats I’ve achieved, 

And to think, 

Like you, 

I bleed, 

I put my pants on one leg at a time, 

But when it comes to these rhymes, 

I’m a being of a different kind, 

Perfection looks scary, 

So close your blinds, 

I shall spawn replicants to shift imaginations, 

And expose earth for what it is, 

Merely God’s infatuation, 

It was just one of his many creations, 

He was probably wasted, 

Like punk rock, 

With no distinct order or placement, 

My statements shake men, 

You want to battle, 

Just say when, 

Dig in, 

I’ll expose your modern technology as ancient bliss, 

Have another barbarian revolutionist scared to take a piss, 

Let alone exist, 

For trying to match wits,

I came from a long line of bad ass poets, 

The flow is stoic, 

At the same time heroic,

I once thought without music and poetry I might lose it, 

True Hollywood Story, VH1 Behind the Music, 

Yet here I sit, 

With my witty spit, 

Here to cure the illiterate, 

Because nothing is idiot-proof for a sufficiently talented idiot,

My melodic alien cuisine is as precise as a laser beam, 

Even the underbelly is so fresh and so clean, 

With rhyme schemes perfected in dreams,

And quotes that inspire confidence and hope, 

Or total annihilation if provoked,   

A mercenary with the pen, 

I write like my birth was God’s revenge, 

Horsemen…