Thursday, June 14, 2012

Cipher 103 ~ Jungle Fever ~ Watch the Throne Vs. Watch the Thorn: The Mitishamba Series.

“The jungle’s fever has reached its highest pitch. Or you gotta be at least this high to speak. Or speaking this high has many thinking they were meant for the jungle’s mountain peak. The kill ‘em man Jay wrote enough snowy vocab that could melt the valleys that the Great Tupac done turned silicon but deaf is he who never responds to a Lion’s roar like a monkey has anyone else to learn from to remain asleep. So as I borders the valley that shadows are made from while the rest were left to preach, let me narrate why I prefer to stay burnt toast than follow some wooly mammoth’s skin gauging black sheep. Bah bah blah they udder like milk and honey comes dirt cheap. Concrete guides using fake bones and learned ways to entice real warriors who’s roots they thought they could steal only to find they lack the soil to carry a jungle so they turned to using their golden streets. Walking with animals that require the least amount of grass to keep. ‘Sanduku iko salama sasa’, these sheep wearing wolves still bone picking, tomb raiding thinking they’ve dug a hole deep enough in the ocean to hide their deep blue sins. An eye, for an eye so let me give ‘em a chance to utter any reference point that starts with, leave. Come on, let’s see who they gon turn to when there’s no one left inside the full cup of sand thrones to compete. Or beat, coz if the others had any more strength to walk then moon be coz they went in search of the farthest point on earth to search for snow's heap. I’m psycho, I can see Michael, laughing with his peter pan findings in his original skywalk, beach. Washed up clean scrubbed off of his vain outlook that inward rewarded enough paths to see for themselves why the Pirates that they use in moving screens to shield the brick walker, that they only have a woman to do all their childish deeds. Stay Yiddish, speaking your child’s language unaware of who the adults in this room are you trying to box in. Stick figures, no change, enough of their attempts to kill dreams have lost enough of our souls so why not a snake’s wall in the East that they West bank on, trying to become some real things. I’m a seasoned vet; ask around, Ishmael got enough Cajun in him to spice up some uncooked beef. Harbored a tree now the leaves falling because of too many changing seasons and the coming heat. They wrote everything trying to mock anything that doesn’t look like a branch coz words did become their hidden place to see. The way I sea, only land can receive anything that stands because apples falling must have meant they had some solid place to sit. Or shit, but sand storms do leave enough evidence on who really has anything left to in him to say peace. Deuces chunked in the morning because walking behind the dark always requires some picking up of some plants to clothe the same people they stole from now they want to act like sheep. They sowed hatred’s seed now my excitement is beyond me coz I know for a fact that this iss the year of harvest and their walking out has them begging for a way in. From Eli’s books they trying to find the edge of land to dump the words they used to split. Dark Tide using my Queen as a guide just because they lack any formal way to keep a jungle’s fire they try to extinguish, lit. Its cold outside and knowing that my bags will always be three full, I take two and split one just so they can buy time outside themselves since inside them there’s nothing worth a penny to keep. Dark times, I’m shining this light to the midgets of snow because under my skin, there’s also white, but that’s right before I let you see my thoughts choose to bleed.”

“The Jungle’s leaf”                 

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