This is almost a cut up style...you could probably get published....pretty good stream of consciousness...
thanks for the boost. i most certainly will carry on. i have yet to reveal to you my subconsciousness; a storm system forming near your rein of consciousness. its rain drops will erode away thought, its hail, the size of imagination, will pound logic and its lighting, a split second behind the crackle of my ensuing thunder, will unsettle all contemporary poetic foundations. let it rain. let it rein. join me.
competent verbal ability is absent. the league is lacking skills in my initial assessment. my testament to your idiotic amusement. get out of your moms basement, go write something of your own to her unbelievable amazement. slut. the past battles are unimpressive clichés and instead read like overly obsessive elementary lyrical essays. submissive failures that i pass off to the next ordinary wanna-be language tailor. too passive. held captive by lyrical laxatives. believe the hype. im already the favorite. circumventing your already stated, poorly created, overrated and simply unrelated ideas that need to be eviscerated! not even a battle in and im predicting silencing wins. the rest, at best, follow the few that have passed the test. what's left? go buy their clothes and copy them with your gay friend two abreast. you are bought and already sold. fitting the hip hop mold but lacking the cant-be-bought concepts that i hold. your mediocre tenacity does not exactly replace my natural mental capacity; a product of elasticity. elastic like stiff plastic, fantastic in its dynamics; advancements of my ambitious consciousness. class dismissed. get a dictionary and look up what you just missed. out.
Twistah Rhythm: an astrological physicist, studies the vast emptiness with his fast subconsciousness. uses slapstick telescopes, pushes scientific envelopes, codes cryptic antidotes and erodes mystic anecdotes. he students teachers. he's the choir to preachers. he requires them a master thesis. hardly an anti Jesus. Professor Rhythm: two parts arithmetic to one part music. imprudence shows him cladistic congruence for artistic avoidance. unorthodox presentations. he spacewalks for lyrical sensations. walkie-talks the enunciation. hardly an RSTL initiation. Twistah Rhythm: well you get the picture. presenting doctor rhythm please respect him: ''please recklessly, cautiously set forward your feet, no need for knowing knocks; i keep my chamber doors frequently to the public unlocked. take off your shoes like i and wipe your mixed matched socks. alas! ...this isn't a session in hip hop but a masters study like classical Bach. keep seated while i investigate the universal workings of our cosmic galactic-clocks. together with my telescope of sorted sorts, we will preform revolutionary research for my laboratory league reports. searching through its peering lens, i'll find answers from beginning to its unforgiving end. collecting data with a feather tipped ink pen. a doctor of astrology, masterfully prudent in space fabric analogies, i present a document from long published pedigrees. if you have questions for me, the professor, please read first the journal and submit inquiries to the next successor: '' first page reads: universal complexity:June, eighteen hundred and seventeen eye-witnessed the sky as never before seen. observations made with eyes seventy years kleen. using telescope number fourteen; part cannon part pin-ball machine. a stream of consciousness... expanding, contracting, demanding and everlasting but none the less withstanding the dimensions that it's now compacting. our universe; an infinite entity still new in its intimate complexity. exquisite in its amenities. so we are finding. go back billions of years through time and space fabrics. to an exceptionally dense, unfathomably small particle of future tense creative dynamics. up and over the native fence of time's expanding logical sense. before Einstein failed to answer its quantum mechanics. before Newton knew his calculus would set true the laws of planetary motion in way of gravitational glue. before scores of theorist theorized from our shores the equations of space that would slowly replace religious folklore. calling for a new brochure brought unnaturally by our natural curiosity to explore our universe more. so we are finding. and found have we so, the moment of origin permeating forever in a vibrating glow. from its laborious birth, collective in its consciousness, it harnesses notorious harmonic flows...to its radically exploding and sporadically imploding presentations for cells to become biologically whole. the conception of the cosmos established universal allotted time. an outward expression of event horizon in a neat but controversial plotted line. fine and so true. we unwillingly knew, but willingly went through the ocean of emptiness sent askew by trigonomic rules. and found have we so. our universe; an intrinsic anomaly prolific in formality. singed, professor Twistah Rhythm doctor Rhythm reflected his eyes off the wanning moon burning yellow against its backdrop like golden prisms at high noon he was searching on with peculiar curiosity; silent, attentive and acutely in tune pivoting his telescope across the black expanse he spotted a violent, massive celestial monsoon it sent colored shock waves of brilliance in his very direction Rhythm was gasping while his telescope made every detection shot from the celestial center to his awaiting optical lens; an impatient reception doctor rhythm received what he wanted to retrieve; restitution for discoveries he made from idea substitution boastful in its texture, an aura of enlightenment surrendered him the secrets of the nocturnal tasteful in its capture, his outward excitement turned inward toward his journal capping and covering his telescope with an old red dusty blanket professor Rhythm retracted pen to paper to make initial statements no longer a precursor to glory but now a great scientist with an important story professor Rhythm began to publish his findings that were most extraordinary obligatory he was to his students and staff he noted everything mandatory on their behalf mindful of his presentations, he was denied in full by current estimations flickering away, his candle light slowly faded to a silencing black the hour was late but he made sure he was exact confident that his findings were to prove right his students now thirty minutes gone, some of them had been very bright
quickly morph into anyone. who and why? Mozart is to music as Einstein is to science. both represent violence respectively, but out of defiance. both accent silence deceptively, but loud in compliance. one is time magnified forever for harmonic dissonance. the other is sublime personified moreover for metric resilience. one summited instrumental mountains with rhythmic alliances. the other plummeted sentimental fountains with arithmetic sciences. Mozart composed masterpieces so fine... effortlessly in essence. Einstein choose a master thesis of his mind...brilliantly in balance. who was Einstein? Einstein versed humanity and made it humble. a divine line cursed as his profanity made it crumble Einstein supported democracy with good reason. like fine wine he retorted hypocrisy, and treason. employ his imagination to discover pure perfection. deploy this sensation to uncover obscure reflection. destroy this application to recover unsure direction. coexist with Einstein; most scientists will remind you. ''insist with fists'', types the first alchemist into yahoo. he replaced land minds with nine skylines using what he knew. Einstein! who who was Mozart? Mozart is, in short, the most supreme musical cohort. most art imports dreams that he easily exports. he was the greatest example of music mixed to sound. because the latest samples of his work pushed new ground. first composition at four, so astounding he wrote more. burst of ambition at six; a sonata sounding an encore. he was a musician that debated the symphonic core he so mortified. he held harmony glorified; it heard him daily so horrified. his thirst for drama quenched a creative itch. he composed from memory, at breakneck speed in perfect pitch. said Mozart concerning the rich, ''bitch snitches deserve death wishes..burried in six foot ditches.'' Mozart! slow down...who would you morph into? i want to be Mozart. i want to know what was in his head. what he never wrote down but hummed in instead. i want to see what he did, i admit see what he saw and how he experienced it i want to hear what he heard hear if he interpreted music instead of words i want to understand Mozart. understand his creative high art relating an inner concert-band which i can pick apart debating his piano action increases my smarts translating dissatisfaction decreases his charts awaiting the chain reaction varies by state but baiting an infraction makes me fairly irate simply hating musical notation is a scary trait. i want to be Mozart. forever relevant. Mozart is the greatest composer of all. Beethoven created his music, but the music of Mozart is of such purity and beauty that one feels he merely found it—that it has always existed as part of the inner beauty of the universe waiting to be revealed. --Albert Einstein
anew the fork down brick roads of yellow. blown apart are locks of keys down beaten paths, violin cello. Bonaparte mastered this mentality, masterfully mental, say hello. strumming weeping willows loud in its bellow. like antebellum voices whispered in Jefferson's Monticello. like the day you granted finally your grand finale. like day light savings time cutting seconds to discount minutes for people. play time musically scored for a trio: you, me and the sequel. what time is it? ask your sun dial and it will say five sticks seven. ask the moon smile it will say four jives six. ask the clock hands armed with twelve teeth snarling with clicks. seven ate nine. ten heavens twelve. thirteen fortified fifteen. sixteen ticks with tocks in-between. twenty clocks aboard the yellow time machine. time is something of an enigma. my worst watch ticks, wristed in stigma. time is something unique. timeless antique priceless in physique. mystified majestic mountain peaks, tweaked and hypnotized nostalgia: to the pathetic golden age for about a week. sound checking, one, two, forget who. why? your knee high trembles stomp a three, four. bait. tackle. lore. your noodle elbows casting a five, six. hook. line. sinker eating fish sticks. walk the stage. one foot out of the cage. the other still on a different page. that's why. millions await what you have to say. millions await. for something that only a one in a million could say. look in to everyones essence earnestly. take attendance. notice the appendage. bandage the offended. rear-ended, suspended. constant outer strangle hold upended. the few feed off the have nothings. half stuffing your face, lying. gold mining. billions silvering their linings. fine wine, lobster dinner dining. no room for whining. all on your around the clock blue dollar. collar around your neck. expect next to nothing for respect. all in time. time takes you. fakes you. easy bake oven rakes you. nothing is at stake. icing on every cake. dumbed down doers. numbed out drones, busy bee movers. this is now. millions await. for one. something that only one in many could do. true. who? time. time. time. give us the next card. deal the millionth hand dealt in a game currently felt. arrange the code, dot the tee cross the eyes. deal a ace-theist in a fox hole. trick down your sleeve, ask Jeeves. face of cascades. ace of spades. we need one. his seeds won. mole hill mountain, stolen thrills and counting. give us a broken leg, position your game peg. battle ship position: column R2D2, row C3P0. yodel us yoda, carbonate a liquid soda. hand us a soloist. Han goes solo in the millennium. falcon us a genius of the force. light save us from the dark saber. why wing it? send a tie fighter to intercept the dead eye script. jedi mind trick us time. plz. ty.
Stitching my itching memory banking ATM card ditching. Full check, blank pin word, double tap forgetting. No ego recognition, no privy to piss in. Misdemeanor of a person missin. spent it all on chicken, home run hitten'. knittin' a kitten mitten- into winter gloves when blood is smitten. Listless statistics edges out hitless ballistics. Classical harmony, a word used over and over for nuclear dis-armory. Uniformed army in unison formally. Normally standing down remorse uncorrected, coarse as morally retrospected. A revolver for mystery murder in hidden enemy harbor. Three live action minimizers, silenced with full metal jacket equalizers. Two collaborators discern the suspected. Suicide noted, conspiracy clues inspected. If vanity for fifteen, riddle no longer. The face of tragedy or puzzle solver? Three pawns acted, directed from script. Moved the sun over moon in total eclipse. Evidence exists for this, left behind by trail paper missed. It hints toward homicide, as tested. Not self infliction as investigators suggested. Additional inquiry informs us of the facts, a conditional history and heroin tracks. Not seen is how he did it so high, with three times the lethal in his supply. Who am i talking about?
current congruence went through it concerning downloaded torrents. it was Victoria, she posted many stories for ya. upload the dilemma, double click the icon for free euphoria. you for aura, and she for flora. all together lights planted ashore ideas, then sailing sails for Pandora. It's a box of evil that stows below-- glowing laughter crowned by gold in kilos. download the file. see the protagonist antagonize obstacles all the while dialing in more uploaded trials. all for free but not of hypocrisy and a small core fee. ask Victoria, message her silently or she will ignore ya. please. what is public must be legit, fit for average consumption, don't forget. what is private is handled by pirates, prying loose profits from prosthetics. to tell the difference between: first remain unseen with steady breath and hope. then listen to the cracks in the wall with a stethoscope.
Cosmetic prosthetics are apparently apathetic to natural aesthetics. So severe lately -though obvious now. It's Dubious at best and obnoxious how unrealistic ideals gain nauseous appeal. If not for this reveal individuals would feel again, might maybe conceal their age with E vitamins washed down with a Heineken. Or two. Not with credit or a knife must I remind you my friend? Invite them in, naturally. Bury the hatchet and latch it for them. Beauty is the eye of the older, saying " Distant dissonance echos most resilient in its hosts brilliance" every now and then. ---- 887
does2 dusts two pant legs off destitute like, before he dare sit on a curved chair he calls a banana seat bike. who knew? Constanze and does2 knew, sorta like a buzz true to straight tripping without the drug gripping him of alienable heights. a undeniable lefty loosey righty tighty play write kite. mighty mouse agrees as they meet halfway in flight. new credit is accredited, however limited. politely asking poetic sedatives, to test imagination into large acting derivatives, thus masking raw narratives most imperative. I'm a pair of twins. A end all tell all mosaic ride, how Moe says "kick" and believes in Cinderella brides. This is what destitute pant leg dust-off does to you...make you believe in magic and crazy glue that when applied balances hazy but true. ---- 937
does2 dusts two pages of destitute poetry off. He constitutes what he wiped as a soul entry lost. Symbolically they morned but silently he scorned how ironically feeble the jury had adjourned. Mark it down and score it over, or you must shed tear drops shaped as four-leaf-clovers. For teeth over the bite equal more pain moreover, because anguish is necessary and red. Rover, red rover send ink dipped in blood over. What he found was true: woody grounds and does2. A clue was a shitty frown, how it wore heavy and needed witty sound. End resulted in this; a mixed up message unresolved by exalted bliss. ------------------------------------------------------ Thanks Nick for allowing me to play on yer name.
Moon-phase counterpoint sets the scene. It plots itself in phases. Particles watts emit curious misanthropic faces. Parts to a watch alarming the ticks that tocks are missin' in tropic places. It's Fisted pandemic ferocity, lifted. raised high It's resisted hypnotic anomalies; listless nearsighted lies Raised not literally in the physically. But figuratively praised a lot whimsically. Or rather, creatively as faded spots in the imaginary. Grown locally most organically. Drawn from deep wells like how air feeds a organ manically. It follows as this: New Moon; a bright light might guide right, despite it cast in slight narrow sights. Waxing Crescent; makes night skies relaxing. Present. Nice eyes relapsing bright nitride fluorescents. First Quarter; middle grounds expand borders as fiddle sounds bend peptide disorders. Waxing Gibbous; One half basks in dramatica steadfast as the other still masks behind galactica at last. Full Moon; Ode to joy. A dirty opinion whore. ----- 1069
I observe you with quick Receptiveness. It's Objectionable Attentiveness serving two Souls' Hypothesis's. Nonetheless, It's invisible by day as is constellation Pegasus. Please allow it to run its synthesis. As how cotton sows fabric as now jesus sues genesis. At night, see what it is: Congestive heart failure cast as moon light, but suggestive of tailors being festive soon with balloons and sprites. It's relentlessness in proper portrayal; as is a helicopter escape with Princesses from forts 'Royal. It's all these things, but really it's my keen antenna. It detects things; feels around, oddly connects to her son an oddity of coppery sounds. Anticipating your personality properly presents a picture perfect surly to astound. Precipitating many actions early with reactionary property not yet found. I use this to my advantage. I observe you with sick receptiveness. ---- 1190
