Biography

You are dreaming. Wake up. Keep dreaming to wake up. Open your eyes to watch this dream. Be kept sleeping. Be. Breathe this sequence and soak it up with your aura. Chose life. Walk through this life. Perceive deepness. Peel off the shell of empty space. But remain dreaming.

If a thousand words are spoken, maybe only a few walk carefully. And when words are doubled and treated kindly, then their soft shimmering will allow us to feel pain. “The ocean dark and humans bitter. I know this pains. I, the spark embark as glow emitter to flow as glitter in your veins”. Can you feel it too? No? “Bioluminescence reception recognition. The essence of perception intuition. Be brave and be in tone. Do not be afraid to be or to be alone”. Embrace me.

Paper is rustling and the sound is changing. The sun is dropping and Plex is a musician. Stres takes us to the battle, because he is. “I obsess, process, excess, insuccess. I access, progress nil. I am still. I blame. Process I cannot access. Flame. Aggress perchance”. The man who thinks too much. He can’t help but to think. He can’t. Can’t. Can’t give up. Can’t ignore the voice in my head. “I will not let the beast within win. Set to sin. The beast is least to grin. Intensely thin, is rationality. Illustrate reality if can, can they elucidate if man?”

Are you sure about what you want? What do you think I should do? In a foreign tongue. “You just wanna hear things you already know?” Why? Eat only what you’ve already tasted. Listen to what you already heard? Why? “These words may be to big for you to dig. Maybe one day be. If merely, words can do you in that should clue you in sincerely. What I’m about to utter can clutter and will clutter and still distill the vapor. Until you fill your container. Until you spill no-brainer. That paper. I enjoy. I deploy. A un-random, un-tandem, tantrum boy. Hip hop pop mc’s say, what they think will play in clubs and hot tubs. And may I say what I say? It’s free, it’s me okay?”.

There are patterns. Slow layers of top down extension, that only break at chaotic distances, while still remaining parallel. Life is rarely that generous with light. Dreams are always too close to the edge of a nightmare. Words are always screamed received. Perceived. Frustration of not being understood. Discomfort of exposing oneself’s effort. A bare forest of ignorance. Approached with a translation of the spirit. A gentlemen’s honor. Mature confidence. Waking up with a relaxed brain. Only let down: distortion at the end. But all of that, just because of one great dream.


© review: tadah the byk

Edited by shingiro on 22 Jul 2007, 02:48

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