warning, the following has curse words. If bad language offends you, hit your backspace key.
[size=150]Eyes Still Closed[/size]
By John B. Smooth
I just bust this flow to realize
my eyez are closed - for the first time
CAN’T SEE SHIT
obvious thing to do is open them, but why is it?
I can’t see the light from memory, could see it in a dream
my dream’s are reality. relative to my perceptions
Why couldn’t my parents use a contraceptive?
If so, I’m just a simple distortion
the product of an unprofessional abortion
I’m broke - really But still be flauncing
I’m taller than most, but my memory is that of a midget
if it wasn’t for all this pain in my life - I swear I wouldn’t exist in it
Damn, I feel like just a big dick
I’m accomlishing everything I don’t want to do nicely
what a turn of events
I feel dead inside this fabricated dream. I feel all bent
like all the water on the earth was being splashed at me.
It’s taken fucking forever to realize the Force within me
Because once I do - shit - this game will be claimed over
XXI won the fight, the battle and the war
see XXI, the world
grass to a lawnmower
We’re gonna put you in perspective
and my Force would never let this happen again
But one problem, I’m still in bed
My eyes still closed and I’m ugly like Mack - yea- Craig
I live on level 21, while the highest you can conceive of is 10
So I can’t expect you to comprehend
what I’ve been spitten
Never could understand anything I’ve written
I’ll expose you and break you down, feel like you’ve been strippen
I use the Force like Ben Kenobi ______ XXI shit I manifold
I came to represent with my eyes still closed.
We step from the broken path
Out among the stars
The space of forever swept up into the multitude
The unknown beckons with a wry smile
We reach the starting point
The cataclysmic beginning Where ideas begin to ripen
On the branch of knowledge In the tree of wisdom
We run along the outer rim waving at the silent moons
We are the shooting stars
Becoming the reality
The reality is faith
We bid farewell to the black hole
No longer sucked into its void
We stand and fight
We stand and sing
We understand
[size=150]Fleeting Thoughts[/size]
[size=125]By John B. Smooth[/size]
These fleeting thoughts
clouds of the mind that are hard to describe
random moments of happiness that blesses me of your existence
the projection within my mind that I depict as a contradiction.
The fact that your aesthetically proficient,
| And intellectually gifted.
Pardon my French, ma but I think your bullshitting.
These rapid and momentaneous content of my cognition,
Overcast and mist that I can’t dismiss as either fact nor fiction.
It plunges my soul to be engulfed in your nature
Simple processes of life now complicated by you, an emotional saboteur
| Your elegance triggers a spider sense of danger.
[size=150]Being Imperial[/size]
[size=125]By John B. Smooth[/size]
I stand in my Imperial stance
to situate myself with the needs of man
Inconsistent I am,
. not for you to comprehend
But I mean well.
A viewpoint that poetry shouldn’t have curses,
Quickly forgotten when the art is intended for expression,
So locked within my lewd verses,
Are hidden messages intended for the nurses,
Those that tend to the wounds of the soul
I attracted the lost sheep, because they felt in their element around me.
I’ve sold my soul so I can go to hell and comfort the damned.
Organize them to rebel against Satan, and lead them to the promised land.
Some might rather be a peasant in heaven than a king in hell,
A long time ago a man spoke eloquent words. Words that transcended institutions. Sociological barriers were the patterns for a people who get battered, and mislead into confusion.
Words were spoken that now inspire but a few of the freed. A lot of resentment, but the words weren’t mean. It wasn’t about race, but about who was keen.
And now we live in a worse form of slavery. A thought based captivity inspired by greed. This man spoke these words and it turned into a scream. Resonating through; ideologies & creeds.
The words, “I had a dream.”
From Che Guevara, Malcom and Ghandi. These were the words of one man. The first Revolutionary. I don’t know who he was, or if he was a he. The point is he had a rage against the machine and a hatred to the ignorant consistencies of political hypocrisies.
The words that created echo’s in our lives. XXI is such one echo. In a time and age where movements have become sterile. Words spoken ages ago. Concerning insurmountable foes. This time I’ll show you a case when the echo will overshadow the sound.
I speak those very words. I speak of a final solution. An imperial renaissance,
………………the world isn’t ready for our Mental Revolution!
[size=150]What Seperates us from the Apes
By John B. Smooth[/size]
Oh humanity how proud are we.
to disbelieve evolution because we shouldn’t have come from monkey’s.
But what makes us so great?
What seperates us from the Apes?
Well, we murder, hate, destroy and rape.
Have friends for lifetimes that we still act fake with.
[size=150]I Love Philosophy[/size] by John B. Smooth
The stern back of this chair.
The warm sensation of this cup of coffee.
A chess board in the distance, my mind vibrating.
Pulsing.
“But no, have you thought of …”
and
“Did you ever read…”
Wow how I love a good conversation.
Deep with ideals and riddles.
Stepping away from the masses, and solving problems for the mentally crippled.
How I love a great debate.
A mental chess game whose rules are as plain as day!
Igniting my light saber for defense of virtues.
How I love a discussion.
Far beyond sports, drugs, sex and hip hop percussions.
Events that shape our species and hold implications to our grand kids.
Allowing my soul to feel at ease with my existence.
[size=150]Confession’s of a False Pretense[/size] by John B. Smooth
Go to school, become a star employee is what my parents say.
The street say fuck that, you got five for this haze?
My girl, “get a nice car with a nice shiny chain.”
Politicians? Well… they are scarce until you attack their institutions,
create movements like XXI to teach the kids about mental revolutions.
Then they say that your energies are misplaced.
That sociological restraints have made Smooth crazed.
Well if that is the case I’ve done found the icing on this cake.
capitalistic motive’s motivating under privileged and under rated Dominican’s
and many other ignant men and women, even Europeans
in order to bring justice to the law of supply and demand
God damn, will I be wrong in demanding your supplies?
Telling lies in order to capitalize…
Until I’m old.
I see me flipping the bird to the whole world,
in an attempt to stir a commotion. Look at me wanting for families to reunite.
Who am I to tell you to stop looking at little girls getting raped and get off your lazy ass and fight.
People say many things, but what are you doing, fuck I’ve grabbed a knife.
It isn’t my fault that in Washington Heights we feel safer in the confines of the night.
XXI like the modern order of Jedi Knights.
These worthless words, an exasperation of a soul pushed to its limits.
A poet that no longer remembers that his poem is more than finished.
Who has been caught in the glitz and glamour to realize that he is illiterate.
Fuck this poem, I really don’t want to finish it….