’ži keep thinking 'bout flowing but how do i get it going. start thinkin in time with my rhyme. 

so back to the tactile frustration of this queen from the zulu nation 

my nervous mind pulsating with some homeostatic interogation.

her words tender flow right through me like slow 

honey sweet lava burnign sunny days into my soul.

so i listen content to find her intent  striving for learning from her oratory 

as she licks into a story i find my mind go Amy Ray while my knees say Doris Day 

and like snoop to tangueray i have to push my love away 

i don't get this kinda shit everyday anyways so many ways 

for my bay babe to say all the right things and the morning has crept up on the evening

 love birds start us retreating.

 I walk to my flat, head abuzzing with alice austin, maya angelou, gia cussing. 

like a master santerian her spell kept me dreaming 

and this flow is a pale comparison 

to the swell of emotional perils on the thought of the flame not burning...

like the world stops turning if that queen stopped yearning 

for freedom from the journey.

So i think on my african gertrude as i hit the stairs and head for the stein  

full of red red wine to stop the resounding pine  

i need to get away from poeple. 

i need trees and sunsets.

 not chat rooms and internet. 

i need to be free from rage, free from age and my african sage showed me the cage 

now african rage puts me off the page

i even the score one eye for another,left till we the victims become brother 

and yet another barrier lifted 

my queens voice gives me all the truth i need 

i need that voice more it is addiction to diction that makes her conversational friction so efficient to induce change in my brain and a motion in the ocean of emotion society gave me

as she pours jello into hotspots solidifying my mold into a sea of constant changing 

and soon I am raging.

NO MORE for the Mastahs, sinister assholes, bag carpet all day fucker find flow faster 

NO MORE for the Man, i need my life EVERY MINUTE  and 8 a day your all up in it 

infinite possibility as soon as i lose your responsibilities 

NO MORE for the Tyrants, political hypocritical bastards 

sitting silently plotting corporate air raids putting a flag on a dollar 

sending boys to jail for mary wanna while the cIA plants ganja 

to manufacture terror, guns and coke. 

no joke

    Source: geocities.com/rbad77