Legs of the Universe (the quadra...

Legs of the Universe: The Quadrant

 

(The Sunshine of Eternity: part 1)

 

Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind

Internal battles of frontlines of the rhymes

Tripping over punchlines and cauterized lines

The flame burns inside when the sun goes blind

So when Stevie plays harmonica and the moon shine

Watch the Dharma aiming for your new signs

They pierce like the voodoo in the man of these times

Intertwined with sterilization of the universes mind

Can I input all my bars inside of the walls of space?

No, so I made a gallery of galleries made of all space!

If I was less lyrical, the level of my brain is less spiritual

The passages that hit your hearts are less biblical

And more founding fathers turn martyrs without a miracle

And the same people that boast over imperials

With be dead by the sun rise of Sun Ra’s eyes

Birth of Ka, I merge against the demonized

The cannonball hitting the walls of the vesselized

A glamour in my eyes, I’m hella glamorized

Amplified in poetry and properly fertilized

 

Sample: Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory]

Grandpa Joe: Wh-When does he get it?

Willy Wonka: He doesn't

Grandpa Joe: Why not?

Willy Wonka: Because he broke the rules

Grandpa Joe: What rules? We didn't see any rules, did we, Charlie?

[Charlie shakes his head briefly]

Willy Wonka: [springs up from his chair, angrily] Wrong, sir! Wrong! Under section 37B of the contract signed by him, it states quite clearly that all offers shall become null and void if - and you can read it for yourself in this photostatic copy:

[grabs a magnifying glass and reads]

Willy Wonka: "I, the undersigned, shall forfeit all rights, privileges, and licenses herein and herein contained," et cetera, et cetera... "Fax mentis, incendium gloria cultum," et cetera, et cetera... Memo bis punitor delicatum!

[slams the contract copy and the magnifying glass down, continues shouting]

Willy Wonka: It's all there! Black and white, clear as crystal! You stole Fizzy-Lifting Drinks! You bumped into the ceiling, which now has to be washed and sterilized, so you GET... NOTHING! YOU LOSE! GOOD DAY, SIR!

 

(Road of Damascus: part 2)

 

Let’s reflect on the cold sub zero bars I hold

Versus your so divided and indecisive molds

I gotta subtract to stoop to your level

To me that ain’t adding up, I’m a label rebel

So when you guys act like you add, I multiply

And I prophesied that all of yall with full short of remaining alive

Yall act like Macbeth, calm yourself and your debts

Cuz I bring stuff like Macduff, I’ll untimely remove you from the earth's scruff

So watch yourself loved one, you’ll turn to dust

 

(Hex man: part 3)

 

Hexed man, finger nails, fingernails

Chopped fingers make me frail

Hexed man, pot full of my essences

The taste of my adolescence

Hexed man, cursed from the depths man

Signed me to the dirt like a dead man

Hexed man, voodoo dalls and chicken bones

Chicken bones, voodoo stamps and stones

Hexed man, deprived of demonstrating

The stage of the nation and racist faces

Hexed man—

 

(Interlude)

 

“We want three central results: eliminating the nuclear programme, eliminating the ability to produce ballistic missiles and eliminating the axis of terror. We will obviously do what we must to achieve these objectives, and we have been coordinating well with the United States.”

 

Hexed man, conniving spirits and dining with lyrics

Uplifting spirits and making myself fearless

Land mines, land mines making others earless

Others mouthless, dead and left forever soundless

Coffins being birthed, a box we all enter

Funny how we came out of one to get right back in

Hallucinating off of the water we drank from Euphrates

Soundtrack to my life is my cries as a baby

Hearing me rhyme through the cries is amazing

That’s prophecy—

 

(Deep in Consciousness: part 4)

 

The mind is supposed to be a gateway

To get away from knowledge in restraints

The mind of many can’t bend or pave ways

They push me to the plank, kick me overboard

But I glide through the depths and sink their motherboards

This is Nag Turner meets the hoverboard

Don’t let them die without a war

Scars burn deep inside of the drawers

Pull them out and I find my past notes

From the past of what myself had wrote

It’s all about ring the best, nothing practical

Now only God is deciphering these sebaticles

It’s all mathematical—