world's smallest violin

go hard for what you be living though

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producci by the ethereal enigma - mars. 

vocals - kurt huang

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Blues

A peaceful soul, (uh-huh) and yet, lately I’m invaded, rage pasted in chaste patience,

A fuck you to the master, hate sent from wasted nations, plastered in ages

Man I live in a curse to flip these birds, submerged in verbs; I feel a different groove, oh lord.

I can’t hear nothing but the blues,

The man in me has a code of honour; the boy in me hasn’t called his mother,

I wonder.

Sometimes it’s not your choice, sometimes it ain’t my voice.

Holy hello’s bellow from the void,

And though, I couldn’t hear the calling,

Laying broken by the Fallen,

Was ascension what it seems, was this worth the petty schemes? Damn, you forgot what it means,

Being a human being…

A question in realms, a question I keep asking myself,

How far are you willing to delve?

Pimping the things that I see in my Hell, gripped.

I’m trapped in this wealth, shit,

I guess self-abuse sell, this, digest it

Arrested in cardiac, my heart attract a muse,

Invested in party tracks and arty brats, my triumph nah man it can’t be that.

All my favourites do it… so you might as well pass me that, sniff,

The future a desk or an army hat?

(The winds have been singing a vision so hazy) nah nah fam it can’t be that.

(The cadence of sin got the Devil to play me).

 He told me (x3)

Just get a feel fam, have a seat man, I know a guy that’s got x in o’s,

You ever smoked Dam grade? Oh a hash man, yeah soft as a pancake, go on have a feel,

Please I insist, you chill, we got it this morning, need a light,

oh don’t be boring, mmm nice, don’t have to tell me I’m already on it, oh no it’s free, I promise,

These teas that leaf, it’s my treat. Don’t forget the dip, it’s my recipe.

Hmm hmm, yes? Oh my name! he hee hee, the fun bit, well you see,

I’m a stockholder, of sorts, Good Lord

No not for a company, per se, my good man we’re more of a club, and today,

I can’t hide my excitement,

You, with your inimitable joi-de-vivre are invited to our premier package!

You see a life spent hunting this cabbage, puts a serious strain on the soul,

So while your spirit’s been lifting all this baggage,

We checked it into our logs, what’s wrong?

My dear boy you are just another cog,

In a much bigger game, and for the fame you picked this day to perish,

Sweet Mary in these moments I cherish, the realisation, a satisfaction I can’t embellish,

This is the Eternal Pit, the Dark Crucible, welcome young brother to the throne of Lucifer.

 The winds have been singing a vision so hazy,

The cadence of sin got the Devil to play me.

The man in me has a code of honour,

The boy in me hasn’t called his mother,

I guess I’m just a man with a different groove, Oh lord,

I can’t hear nothing but the blues

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a vision of excellence

A vision of excellence, heaven sent on the wings of hummingbirds.

A lullaby in coloured words and scented melodies,

Flickers through an effigy of fiery ecstasy.  

As I search the cosmos, meditating on lost gods.

My soul is lifted and I insist this, a dreamer bearing witness. Listen.

It’s real I feel my eyes wide, while I roam home through faces,

I see some rejuvenated, a state of greatness,

Elated, by the cleansing warmth of a loved one,

Embalmed in calming waves engraved in the shores of many places,

Drenched in sweet soft serenity,

Heavily sedated in blessed fragrance,

A young couple gazes into the iris of a new-born,

A blank page inking indelible love on the ethereal stage,

My dreams, I see a beacon for nomadic souls on the ethereal plane.

Are we spiritual vagrants plagued by a thousand pains?

Until I start making spiritual gains, my strength rely on the family I lean on

Hoping, knowing, and believing that I can seek it in this epoch.

 My Sister believes she’ll find it in her detox,

My Brother believes he’ll find it in his Reeboks,

He says I’m holier than thou it’s getting old,

I liked you better when you didn’t think you were J. Cole.

 I tell him this is above gold,

I tell him this is untold,

The richest wealth of the soul,

He wouldn’t believe until he saw,

And so I thought,

We’re always taught,

The ineffable can be bought, I’m unsure, it seems

My laughing lines draw the only evidence. The Sun is radiating,

A vision of excellence, heaven sent on the wings of hummingbirds.

A lullaby in coloured words and scented melodies,

Flickers through an effigy of fiery ecstasy.  

Yes, my elusive friend, will you choose me again?

Crippled by regrets since you left,

Asphyxiation for your pure breath, I am content,

You see now, a Kingdom of excellence above.

You’re free now. Get up.

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stream

I grip a cloud, Teardrops and thunder. I slumber, between the numbers of galaxies swirling in an entelechy of will. I will, a stream of indelible schemes. Terming with seams crafted in dreams. I breathe. Leashed by feats unseen, I believe, nothing ever really...

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osadandaula

Are we born in twos? An absent soulmate, emanating secret signals on the whispers of Kashmir clouds. Fam, she's the massage of crisp oceans. She's the fluttering grace of the hummingbirds wings. Smile. Carry me away. Cascading into my mind slithers my old friend, musing deliberations of dissident long lost dreams, vanquished in youthful panache. F@#!. Change, change.dammit. Blinkered pursuers, reined by boulders of sand.

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✍🏿

Cuffed by my fears, Look in the mirror, Who looking back? Eyes red from the tears Or the Buddha sack?

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mbuzi

She, a goddess. I, flying too high to notice, Red lights and shade. Red eyes and black moods. Fool. It's calm, new new tells me, She says she gets me. Tool. Infernal degradation, An internal revelation, I think I have the words... Can't say em, Choking on my own verbal asphyxiation.

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Why so blue?

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Young men that learnt to do everything spiteful

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sinister games

I used to play with the elements, me and my sisters and brothers. 

Then the shadow came, and all we could feel was darkness, I can’t play with my brothers and sisters any more. 

I miss them. I only play with the shadow, it tells me to perform its dance. I slither to the marketplace, my sister and I, shall we play. 

Our sinister games. We want you to play with us. Dance with us. Dance the dance of oblivion. Dance the dance of the Shadow.

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m.i.t.r

Where are you brother? Our bond, our blood, feeds the soil we toil on. What, for the struggle is the cost?

You cannot threaten me with loss, you have stripped me bare. I am naked with shame, I am clothed in humility.

I have no history, no legacy, no mouth with which to scream, no eyes with which to bleed out my struggle.

Bury me deep, deep in the catacombs, deep within the walls we built. You have grown fat, while I have withered.

I have the flies for friends, they feast on my rotting flesh. You have killed me slowly, choked the life from my veins.

I am a husk, a shell, you feed me scraps while you laugh and rejoice. Relish your fortune brother, for my wrath will be slow, and my vengeance will be silent.

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jackson

He was calm, the face of death bore emerald eyes, stained with flecks of yellow drops of chaos. His gaze was not unsettling, it was sympathetic. He knelt beside the wounded man, his movements replicated that of an opera conductor in the fluid yet methodical manner in which he removed the hilt of his blade, the knife gleamed in his hands, delighting in its malevolent duty. The assassin lifted the man’s head gently, moulding roots and plants peeled reluctantly off of his face as the assassin placed him upright against his shin. The movement was graceful, the blade skirted silently across his neck, as the man leaked porously from his open veins, the trees danced side to side, spiralling dizzyingly in his blurred vision. The forest floor was stained as his blood trickled in between fallen leaves, clotting in the warm air, the scent of sin bathed the forest in its suffocating aroma.

…8am… the steam rose lethargically off of the top of the fast cooling liquid. He gazed into the wisps of aromatic clouds, taking in the rich smells. His grandmother had introduced him to the wonders of her herbal teas many years ago. In those days, the mambas terrorized the villagers like stealthy sleek agents of death. A game of football could be disbanded in the blink of an eye at the sight of these slender serial killers. As a child, he’d wander into the untamed and seemingly endless tangles of undergrowth, with the aimless searching that so often afflicted children, urging them to fearlessly delve into the mysteries of the forest. The crackle of twigs echoed sharply underfoot, his inability to master the language of his people enforced a desire for isolation, betraying his fervent need for human company. Eventually, his attempts to learn *Chichewa” had fallen by the wayside, and a hunger to explore had launched a coup over his mind. He’d explore the dense forests that were situated behind the large farmland of maize. Ambling through his kingdom searching for treasures not yet known to him, the trees seemed to be restless, rustling their branches in the light winds. He couldn’t help feel a sense of discovery, whether he was willing this sentiment within he did not know. He continued on, blindly treading amongst the dry grass. Until the grass was not dry, it was moist, squeezing wet grass in between his toes as he made each step. He did not notice the strange colour until he stopped to pull a prickle from his foot. His feet were stained with a brownish red hue, a shade not uncommon amongst the families of mahogany and green that were smeared across the foliage, characteristic of the dry season. He inspected the flecks of red that had sunk into the grooves of his feet like crimson rivers. He observed the path he had been wandering, gazing with naïve curiosity at the emergence of this exciting discovery. He knelt down smelling the curious substance. It reminded him of Jackson, one of his Agogo’s labourers. Once they had been in the garden where they could often be found, engrossed in conversations of the highest ontological order. This particular seminar was interrupted by Mwasi. Mwasi called out to Jackson, gesticulating wildly, urging Jackson to return to his duties. Jackson hurried to his superior, winking at his companion with sultry mischief. The boy had grown deeply attached to the young man of twenty summers, he followed after Jackson, losing a slipper in the heat of the chase, he thought it was a game. He found Jackson squatting against a wall by the chicken coop, with a hen resting on his lap. The boy was delighted to have found his companion, although Jackson had not seen him yet. ‘Maybe we’re going to play with the hen’ he thought, he always amused himself chasing them around the yard. He walked towards the pair with childish glee. In a flash, Jackson had broken the chicken’s neck, the boy startled in horror as Jackson removed a blade from his tattered shorts and sliced the convulsing hen’s throat, blood squirting into crimson patterns in the dust. The smell of iron hung in the air like a humming bird. This substance had reminded him of that day, unperturbed, he followed the trail, deeper and deeper into the forest…

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Lone Star

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baretta

I may not dance your dance or speak your language. Being somebody's blessing may liberate me from anguish. I am the tears of Caretta, Malcolm Little's Baretta, the face of Guevara, dreams of a revolutionary piece, Brothers in institutions or deceased, can't undo, what's been done, no control alt delete, it's like a banquet or a feast, all the fat cats get a seat, While we struggle for scraps of meat.

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.../`=`\...

Amidst your philosophy, be still a man. 

Wealth won’t make you a bigger man.

Deep pockets won’t give you depth,

I used to pray to God for strength,

If I can liberate my people with a breath,

I would travel the breadth of space, isolate myself in its depths,

a vision occurred to me while I slept,

I was with Buddha and Jesus while he wept,

they turned to me with eyes of regret,

we never wanted this for you they said, release yourself,

or freeze in Hell. 

The sound of their words freed my mind like the Liberty Bell.

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The President is black, but you can't vote for skin

Soul Brother Number Two

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Amidst your philosophy, be still a man

David Hume