Search

SpacemanTheJinn

With the Cheshire Grin

Month

December 2016

FROM ME TO YOU (OR, WHAT A GIFT)

Walls are shaking, colors’ drippin

Mouth is spittin

With the drug and liquor sippin

Gait is dippin

Hall is stretching

Anxiety’s pressing

Fear is setting

Strength is losing

There’s running and yet, there’s no movin

The process is bruisin

Only thing that’s broken is the sanity that’s losin

The feet are slipping, floor is rising

The blood is divin

Ears are ringin with a siren

The body is fallin, climbin

The skin and the pigment is fightin

Nose is cryin

Voice is lyin

This might be dyin

The heart is tryin

Perspiration is broken

Vision is too highly woken

Throat is bloody, regurgitatin, chokin

Embrace it all, you the reader, have been randomly chosen

For this is the psychedelic, kaleidoscopic moment

DARK STAINS, NIGHTMARES

Shivering within the rain

And coated in dark stains

Conversations with the pain

Psychological framed

This a deeper kinda game

Nightmares’ testing the sane

Just trying to prevent the gains

Get tougher for all the maintains

Falling, but never faint

Giving defeat the proper feint

Bleed for the need

Scream for the dream

An artist, I think in Tardis

The change, is just called process

I’m nauseasistic

My existence is a whole new sickness

I’m catching all the misses

I’m listing them in my wristed

Soaking in a flood of blood

Putting distance from the “uhs” and “ughs”

Focused, leave em as a “was”

Kinda tryin to be a “the”

No matter the pain or the drain, I’ve bled for the love

BLOOD IN THE WINE

Sippin on bloody wine

Clotting up the grape vine

Graffiti on the signs

That’s the “I’m” in my design

Fighting my demise

This might of my mind is mine

There’s no might

I’m sick with sight

I’m blind when it comes to blinds

Just Gollum when it comes to finds

Defiant with even time

Odd, how I’ve learned to fly

Jumpin, testing the die

Needing the bleedin for all the wise

Oblige the “whys”

Pig in shit, smoothin in the grime

This Icarus is modified

Chloroform for the light

Beyond Daedalus heights

Knives to my vines

Pouring write

Drinkin lines

That’s…

Blood in the wine

RENEGADE (OR, A DEVOTED SKEPTIC)

Deep drifting within The Float

I’m writing things I should not know

Demons think I’m spouting hope

Angels’ labeled me as foe

My cursive is spoken in flows

These theories are stepping on toes

Impetuous quote unquote oracle

I classify myself as unimportant

Misguided abused annoyed orphan

Attitude can be mordant

The third eye is 42 over 8 distorted

I know that I am abhorrent

I’ll never be the greatest nor a legend

I think my thinking is wretched

My method is, “Question Lessons”

Writers are eternal, leaving impressions

It’s a justifiable sentence for sentences

FUCK THE WORLD, this is my vengeance for giving me depression

This devotion to letters and theory is borderline obsession

STILL OUR STRANGE FRUIT

Mommies, daddies, siblings missing

Too many pistol kissing

In place of shooting stars, the bullets are doin the whisking

Long lives are fleeting

Daffy with the darker skin, every season is hunting season

Rarely with a “proper” reason

The systems are hella flawed

From the Nigga’s to the Law’s

Crosses on yo chest, still dyin, where’s yo God

No more hanging from the trees

They falling, dying in streets

Leaving pasts and futures weeping

No more chains, but it’s bout them bars and bars

Bruising when they reaching far

Money, money, money be the cause

Natural is viewed as wrong

And a smile or “sorry” is viewed as soft

Comin through with a marching crew

Fists raised with tattoos, too

From the dreads to the fades to the fros

Shirts written “BLM” for these and those

A statement inside the message

A message because of messes

Messes are racial oppresses

Black bodies walking

Cuz the dead bodies talking

Talking bout the racists

Getting away with all the cases

Doin it in front of camera faces

Still gettin all the pays and the praise

While children losing parents in the nights and the days

These are brutes shooting down the strange fruit

NATURAL DISASTER (OR, AN AWKWARD ANXIOUS MONSTER WITH A TENDENCY TO DROOL AND SPIT)

Larger than a physical presence 

Self is a writer, fighter, rioter

Focus on darkening the brighter

Staring into nothing, everything is something 

Changing, burning, building, synapses be erupting

Pushing, moving, changing, motivation is the cutting

Everything is shifting

There’s beauty in wilting

Without madness, artistry is missing

Think about it, dying is living

A passionate arsonist of the narrative 

Keeping captive the chaotic wonder of the inner kid

Conscious constant resting on the ceiling in the twist

Be wary when speaking to the monster bubbling under the lid

FEELING SICK

I’m feeling like abused matter

My skin is tattered

My hope is shattered

Fuck Banner-mannered

My fuckin status is madder

I know I’m pissed

I’m bruising wrists

Drooling as the ink drips

Don’t call me bitching

My mood is fitting

These niggas tripping

All these troubles, still no trophy or ribbon

Exhausted of all the missions

Trying to move without slipping

Callused from the overworked gripping

Ain’t nobody thinking?!

They copacetic with the sinking?!

Cain’t burn, so I’m drinking

Overshadowed with all this tension

From the ignorance that seldom listens

My spoken becomes my written

Rage is deep within my presence

I’ve worked to suppress it

But, this world is oppressing

All this stress is nudging my depression 

I ain’t fine with these directions 

If all is normal, am I the infection?

THE INFINITE

Fitting into The Infinite

Shipping into the missions and

Observing through a kaliedos’ lens

Rummaging in the past, for solutions to the now and thens

Theoretical ifs that seem to never end

In a rabbit hole with the thoughts to spend

Declined the straight and narrow to get lost in the bend

Happened upon psychedelic amorphous images as friends

With thumping speakers for heads

Vibing out music and philosophies like peace and knowledge is trend

Banging against the brain til it cheese grates and banana splits

Madness is pleasant in this present, held chillingly in the fingertips

A Shakespeare dilemma in the rift

Slipping into The Infinite is fitting, isn’t it?

WHAT IS I

No dotted “i”s

I’m lining “I”s

Crossing lines

Removing eyes above the lines

The “I’m” is my design

This image shining my shrine

Deep within my mind

Laying lies upon some lines

Trying to find a Suessy rhyme

Writing at the lights

Wasting everybody time

Grimy like it’s a crime

Gripping, stabbing for the climb

Pullin up the hoody

Mindset looney

Metaphorical shooting

Mistaken for moody

Dress-code might be broody

But, the attitude is cooly

Peepin through the foolin

Yet, the host be drooling

Howlin at the moon and

Riding stars for the cruising

All the world is zonking

Though the word is barking

Spinning in a whirl while honking

Skidding into parking

Peep the smoking from the markings

Website Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑