Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Cipher 106 ~ Monster, Monster, Green the Star's Monster ~ Watch the Throne Vs. Watch the Thorn: The Mitishamba Series

“Radiated thoughts as those that radiate in other’s identities bask in the heat of moments taken when pictures moved with visible posts. Invisible to fairy tale feeding souls so witness my bouts as I challenge those with radiant flows like rivers can snake their ways through their concretized streets and turn their lifeless forms into anything worthy of joists. Dependant on thieves these nameless bastards acting like feeders to dreams in the east like its sheep they lead but their evil cloaks lacks any form of originality in presenting life’s state as is coz its just a grain of salt held high, hoist. Beach bunnies, or better yet, vaticanning on robes with no hops, they grounded so they pouching another’s dead as actors of good deeds, ghosts. It’s their nighttime they want one serving but daylights isn’t theirs for savings, just their sand filled civilizations lacking any accuracy, clocks. Changing times tides with changing lines they frozen in the act of returning a single stone in front of its original, hosts. Tomb raiders, these monkeys actually think they can cast any wooden blocks and carry enough soil to transfer their heathen thoughts away from the one with, goats. Trying to be the Greatest Of All Time so inward they rib caged, primetime means they lack a hand willing to advance their weak sage but I know it’s just that brick walking woman they break ceramics for as they attempt to read her a single lion’s page, boasts. Keep those symbols crossing like it’s not the most obvious sign of their lacking of self love so they attempt to use others to hide their soul’s weakness in facing the reality of what all their ancestors brought. Jealousy to the one that embraces his identity without jealousy of what another’s outlook may be, so as twilight as these roaman cloaks may be outwardly, they lack any of my moral’s support. Or murals in thoughts so they verbalize synthetic grievances from afar out of fear of simply stating their central fear, a full history’s report. Record drawings, drawings of my records drawing, drawing from my records means your thoughts are mine while you act pale in all your talks. Forgotten seams seas of seeds sown like sheens of oil shown are shining as Popeye patiently blows his cigs coz this green monster hasn’t yet made any decision on his landing spots. This is sport so row, row, row, but fcuk your boats I’m captaining the skies as my stream gently fills up with all of my present socks. Since life has been all your dreams with a single butt, let’s see their legs up as there’s no water at their feet to fake any gigantic walks. Goliaths of self portaying with protracted memories but no portraits or any original source, they outsourced in every action, no wonder they resort to labels like groupings can bring out a stand-out enemy worse than their moral’s self doubts. Calling their workers lazy when all of their lifetime’s work shows whose efforts regards rewards as credible enough worth of self engineered directions in a world of freelance boundaries and trading ports. All these concretized paths and statues the snowy men hold as ancient credibility is just another’s glory they thought they had thawed only to find the heat turns their existence into organized followers of anything that comes from the same house their children, children’s children, and any pale child continues to mock. Keep fantasizing, reality only has spinach, cigs, and single knocks. Punchline, all my enemies regardless of wealth and residence is what time has gifted the one that can’t be openly and blindly bought. Self made, these words are only read by my beloved hulk.”

“The Green Poster, postured in time like Puskin's Monsters.”

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