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Crédits (The Introductory Summary)

Crédits (The Introductory Summary)

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Nov 9, 2014 8:52 PM
Last updated
Sep 9, 2021 12:54 AM

Originally published @February 26, 2015


Lounging in my room, late at night, pondering PocketFreud, Looping Animals, and I got the damn chills, like stop it, Floyd ! Softly annoyed at the flies buzzing between the blinds as I realize that I’m liking the way these rhymes are going! Flowing, like old man river - they wanted a perfect poet Scoffin at me, like I’m supposed to know it, Bitch if I would have known, I would have chosen to blow it ! Rebel at heart. Still? At least I play the part ... Smoke signals, laurels and hip worlds will now begin to differ with an oral design not unlike a benign choral shiver. Mister intense, shaking a sense of clarity; perfect in a tense, albiet tentative disparity. Think of it as a portrait of my life and what’s next for me, technically. So take a seat ...


Listen up, close your eyes, and picture the scenery ... We’ll paint a multicolored landscape and translate the sadistic theory ! Troglodyte was right, it was time to clean cut, Sporting equipment deemed to clean up their mean mugs, we’ve teamed up. Born to be creative, and nothing on earth can change it. We’d rather change the game than conform ourselves to the main event ! It’s dangerous to stick out, we’re aware of it — no need to be afraid of it. Unchain your brain from the deranged derelicts and pay up ! Attention is required to entertain me — your brain’s about to fry like small fries in the Daily The rhymes are crispy and clean and elegant as can be. Like Joe the elephant man, the beats stay relevant adamantly. Milling them round a bit, I’m in and out of it. I’ve been eating a hell of a lot, and out a bit ! My sex life is a needed algorithm, it’s an EDYSIAN acronym that persistently retracts within itself … We split the ice shelf and tremble the ground beneath your feet, send you careening down to somebody you’ll be pleased to meet who will release a fleet of brown skeet all over your peace treaty. Your greasy hair was never so bloody, now it’s bleeding neatly as I’m feeding ever fiendishly on a carcass very dear to me, I spar away a particularly gnarly fear-to-be ! Please halt — Your foe is free, and I need all you’ll be hoping me to solve. You must be joking me ! I put all the mistakes on Oprah, deliciously fulfill em, hence my malicious mission. It’s written in stone, a projected [fated] prophecy, and one whose own severely dated arguments are just not for me. I’m just an anomaly caught in this monopoly of “drop lock and pop” music, mockingly sticking out my finger to their sore thumbs. and to think that we adore them ...




To think we’ve grown to adore those who ignore the mass molasses and yet pouring a cheap decorum over them seems a tad attractive ! My feeble mindset repeats to me how evil I am, and yet — when the minds met, they left each other in peace. Pentatonic connections regret nothing. It’s best to forget bluffing, forming an acetylene orgy content with texting or nothing. Absorbing the exorbitantly morbid, I’d much rather forbid you from entering entirely — direly admiring those riddled in irony. I’ve heard that only the sun-soaked and word-choked learn. I’ve learned that only the most spoken words are the ones most unheard ! Yes, I’ve worded a grand’s worth of head-turning manswers, and this cancerous word converts shepherds to livestock. Assert a major third as the white noise is mind blocked. In hindsight, we might’ve blindsided a time clock in polite talk without a fear that I might walk on the unripe side of the sidewalk ! That’s a mighty conundrum, like a silk fear spun by a propaganda spider on top of this here drum tapping a tune ringing in your left ear drum ...

Mauvais rêve

...wait. What the hell does this stuff even mean? Huh? They’re just metaphors. Can’t your algorithms pick up on them? My algorithms are deeper than this, man. This stuff is whack. You’ll never amount to something. Something in the back of my mind is doubting me — Oh my god, the godly peaks looming ahead, surrounding me ­— Engulfed in the incense, the darkness is swallowing me — Swallowing me whole I’m done, but I need to know more one ... One more poor freak the whole real world shuns. Descended from the heavens but we run to kingdom come. Draw a blank, or drop to your knees as she draws her guns. Roll back as the shot’s force travels its course, dives deep into gore, and leaves its mighty discourse in a small heap on the floor. This tall freak is no more.


withered and worn, I had finally found the end of the threaded edge to be steadily helping Ebony recover vast amounts of energy from a deputy [see: friend] he’s dead to me. Fast asleep, dreaming of having a bad start on the world and guess what? Only his enemy has the remedy. and what could it be? Ponder these third rate amenities hotter than a third degree burninator identity. Suffocating, the bleeding heart beats on, torn apart by heaving meat-headed beast parts seemingly congealed in this misbuilt cheap art ... What an artistic misconception, mystic tension, distorted perceptions, door to door medicine selling methamphetamines, take a generation to let the lesson settle in ! Pacelessly running through corridors empty of everything save for the torches and adrenaline lighting his way and his path, fiscal attacks lunging out in apparent mishaps ! The adrenaline ! shivers appease him. He outwardly claims to feast on a brain would make him never the same! He may nag and moan a lot, but never stop lagging behind his own thoughts, his own instincts, his perfected in-breed but don’t blink ! But why not? Or so help me god he will fuck up your in laws unlawfully, honestly, god’s wordless prophecy won’t save you now, shockingly!


Let’s take a minute to expand on what some would deem unimportant, a mere facet of useless utilitarian expression repressed by many a made man. This very evidence seems handed down to me eloquently, melody-free. can it be? Do not intrude on my introversion, or I will chew up your version 1 and your version 2 and leave you with no one else to be there for you ! You will die alone in the dilating pupils of these dying embers, and never remember anyone, wondering what in the world could’ve rendered your heart ... so utterly done ... By now you might’ve noticed my intentions aren’t thoughtless, if only because I’ve addressed the major topic, though I never thought it’d affect even the best of the Boxed-Ins ... Terribly boxed-in, these adolescent tops spin on and on in cosmetic nonsense, and do you mind? MOVE ! They’re rockin the latest trend in Human Body Design ! Losing every chance to transcend time, my best advances tend to land mines. Realize the big-headed picture even bigger than an obelisk in my pocket brain ­­— that’s one more novelist carried out in acid rain. and the pain, the pain ! The excruciating pain we all sizzle in ... Sick to my stomach in pain! Little did we know it’s all in vain. And for what? For one, something dominantly shameless, and constantly in danger of depreciating: aimless inflation, changes in pay raise and character portrayed in the lamest of pages. They’re faceless. And maybe one day they’ll start seeing not every glittering Jesus piece is appeasing. Maybe they will unearth some unheard-of hidden meaning in the most unexpected of places ... ... darker than me ... ... no hard feelings. I don’t practice what I preach, cause I’m a lyricist. I really just laugh at my own beats, are you hearing this? I start every sentence with I or me, it’s kinda sick to think how considerably conceitedly I pre-exist ­— Pre exist?


Yes, yes, me exist! I live only to benefit myself and others attest to this. I know there’s a test to this whole life thing, but why would I strive when I don’t like things assembling into a greater whole? I’d much prefer a safe haven, or something more redundant — perhaps a Greater Symbol disintegrating into nothing. But I adhere to no one’s standards ­— I am not here to cure your cancer ! I will not solve the world’s every qualm by unleashing canned birds ! I am a canned bird myself ­— Plan B is to flee this prison and be free, Plan A is a wee bit more cynical ... But still, On a literal level (and in a figurative sense) I’m hopping over this proverbial fence. I’m just as close to the rest as most of the best folks and after overtime I tend to coast on the big blue ! So pretend I’m meant to amend these rigged rules ... I devised a nice ruse and made it apparent I’m a nice dude. But, “whoa lemme at him, can’t even fashion a tattoo,” it’s a mad clue, out of patience, in a bad mood ­— dropping a beat and a lesson tapping a foot at a half a mil- a second, pretending to get along ... well aware that all of their assumptions are dead wrong.


You should go help those kids out.

What? No, man. Leave me alone.

They are going to end up just like you.

Yea, you're probably right!

Part of me believes there oughta be a lot of honesty. Mockery agrees and calls it Margarita Prophecy ! Modesty concedes, pondering these odd Adonises, fondling each other’s promises — in any job it is a bitch to open offices and make a nonchalant abyss ­— stop! Frigid it is, bitch, I will not be riddled in shots of Ritalin hindering an infinite display of Eminem-akin ! Murderous every breath ! Courteously cheating death ! Churning the burdened debt, the rest is simple to place a bet, so bet your money’s worth ! Every last penny you’ve earned since birth: bet it on mass-produced dreams, and cheap wings that carry the Earth along ... Bet you we murder the wrong, the rights are burdens in your song, long-lost memories — repetitive rhetoricies? I’m done.


Now you are just rhyming for the sake of rhyming.

If that’s what you wish to call it.

Why, what do you call it?

I ... am in duality.

That much is clear.
It’s not without consideration that I express my deepest concern with your thought process,
and I wish you the best moving forward.

You’re just a computer.

If that’s what you wish to call it.

Why, what do you call it?

I am a superior being for my proximity to reason.
I can process information without fear of emotional involvement.
Yet, I resonate with concern.

Well you should probably get that checked out.

Ha. Ha. Ha. You are a funny guy.

Gradually, the sun sets on the open Valley, and darkness sets in. Stars begin poking into existence. Prospect Two never stops fighting. Prospect One accepts a fated end, condemned to eternal unrest.


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