I'm Not Driving Anymore by Rob Dougan

You tell me I can't slow down

you tell me where I've got to be,

I spin into the darkness

but I swear that I can't see anything in front of me

no, it's a joke, I'm not driving anymore

I can't keep up with you

you're closing in behind

I've got headlight in my eyes

don't get too close to me

can't you see that we'll collide

and then because of this

it's just all wrong

I'm not driving anymore

I can't keep up with you

so leave me on my own

brought me down and race away (from me-distant)

I've got nowhere to go

I don't think I can get back on my feet (back on my feet )

it came right out of the water

eyes wide and terrified

I can't pull my brakes on

I can't swerve to stay alive

cos then I'll lose control

and I can't choose

I'm not driving anymore

I can't keep up with you

so leave me on my alone

brought me down and race away (from me-distant)

I've got nowhere to go to

I don't think I can get back on my feet (back on my feet )

get me out of harmsway

can't you see I'm paralysed

I wanna fade out gracefully

but you keep keeping me alive

to face another day

can't you see I'm through

I'm not driving anymore

I can't keep up with you

can't keep away(can't keep away-distant(3))

tell me how am am I, god

I wanna end this cervex saw

till this night-light expires

I wanna go swimming in the sun

and I come up for breath

sit in god's room

I'm not driving anymore

I can't keep up with you

I'm only for consumption

I don't know how to play my part

I swear I'm all lonely in this thing (unsure)

and I'm drivimg my car

to oblivion, let it come soon

I'm not driving anymore

I can't keep up with you.

Intoxicated Dreams

Intoxicated are my dreams, even...

A story never told of persistence
More valuable than gold is the mission
Society unfolds contradictions
Like hoes tryna justify their hoe'ish conditions
We roll with the soldiers and misfits
I was born in the winter;
My hearts an icebox but my soul reconsiders
I'm growing old in my youth cuz Imma sinner
The bold in the bulletproof denim
Wants my soul to begin with
Apparently...
I'm the perfect shade of brown for a statistic
I always wear a frown cuz happiness is nonexistent
My chest burns from this rum I'm sippin'
I'm probably living in Hell already;
Just ashes in an Urn perceptions livid
The smoke clears and bodies appear of all the victims
Ain't no discrimination of men, women, and children
These flaming towers and burning buildings
Redemption, we seek it...

So Intoxicated are my dreams, even.
(V2 to be cont...)

Aatif Shakur

#HA!

The Calf Path by S.W. Foss

One day, through the primeval wood,

A calf walked home, as good calves should;

But made a trail all bent askew,

A crooked trail as all calves do.

Since then three hundred years have fled,

And, I infer, the calf is dead.

But still he left behind his trail,

And thereby hangs my moral tale.

The trail was taken up next day,

By a lone dog that passed that way.

And then a wise bell-wether sheep,

Pursued the trail o'er vale and steep;

And drew the flock behind him too,

As good bell-wethers always do.

And from that day, o'er hill and glade.

Through those old woods a path was made.

And many men wound in and out,

And dodged, and turned, and bent about;

And uttered words of righteous wrath,

Because 'twas such a crooked path.

But still they followed - do not laugh -

The first migrations of that calf.

And through this winding wood-way stalked,

Because he wobbled when he walked.

This forest path became a lane,

that bent, and turned, and turned again.

This crooked lane became a road,

Where many a poor horse with his load,

Toiled on beneath the burning sun,

And traveled some three miles in one.

And thus a century and a half,

They trod the footsteps of that calf.

The years passed on in swiftness fleet,

The road became a village street;

And this, before men were aware,

A city's crowded thoroughfare;

And soon the central street was this,

Of a renowned metropolis;

And men two centuries and a half,

Trod in the footsteps of that calf.

Each day a hundred thousand rout,

Followed the zigzag calf about;

And o'er his crooked journey went,

The traffic of a continent.

A Hundred thousand men were led,

By one calf near three centuries dead.

They followed still his crooked way,

And lost one hundred years a day;

For thus such reverence is lent,

To well established precedent.

A moral lesson this might teach,

Were I ordained and called to preach;

For men are prone to go it blind,

Along the calf-paths of the mind;

And work away from sun to sun,

To do what other men have done.

They follow in the beaten track,

And out and in, and forth and back,

And still their devious course pursue,

To keep the path that others do.

They keep the path a sacred grove,

Along which all their lives they move.

But how the wise old wood gods laugh,

Who saw the first primeval calf!

Ah! many things this tale might teach -

But I am not ordained to preach.

by S.W. Foss

"Tradition is nothing more than “well-established precedent.”

NIGHTMARES

Only on rare occasions while I'm constantly pacing.

results of stress elevated...

unusual shit occurs outside my nature...

Testing my patience a ticking is reverberating

My soul departs my body the moment I've waited...

Sounds resonating my motivation is nothing to it; Fuck the world!

As free as a bird, corpses decay I shit on this earth it's cursed but...

Fortunately I'm here for a purpose.

My nightmares are giving me chase

In my dreams I go face-to-face with Death

still alive maybe I'm blessed

Regretfully abandoned my past life...

What is it like to stretch your wings and take a flight, enjoy your life?

Keeps sight of my goals

My flow unfolds, 'till I get the Midas touch; everything turns to gold

The streets want me to fold but I owe it,

to myself to move forward even through death when I wrote this,

On a park bench, complete darkness where I sit

Smoke a spliff and I'm lifted...

But the narcs are heartless ever since, I went against the grain flipping the script

Am I insane?

The voices in my head are worthy of greatness so I sustain

The industry, they want to put me away

Gats spray suddenly I'm in the grave shaken then I wake up in fear

cold sweats and steel,

an observation of my nightmares.

Only on rare occasions while I'm constantly pacing.

results of stress elevated...

unusual shit occurs outside my nature...

Testing my patience a ticking is reverberating

My soul departs my body the moment I've waited...

Sounds resonating my motivation is nothing to it; Fuck the world!

As free as a bird, corpses decay I shit on this earth it's cursed but...

Fortunately I'm here for a purpose.

My life is like a... 44 gauge...

Decipher my plans engraved, I wrote on this page

I was brought up in pain, then my destiny came

The rage is in me...

Smoke blown the gauge is empty...

Upon a Kings throne emerged alone the sole victor

It started with some sugared water in the kitchen...

a substitute for soda add some food coloring

It's imperative I turn this into wine beverages I'm better than that bummy shit

Displaying leadership is how it started...

To puling up in hotter whips appointed banquets for my fellow gangstas...

It didn't take long to distinguish...

The nature of this neighborhood and how we're living

My dreams of, spreading eagle wings of freedom, started to diminish with

Tupac and Biggie's ending. But I'm still here...

Pad and pen in hand, light years ahead I've got plans

Peep the Son of Sam here...

Jotting down the observations of my nightmares.

Only on rare occasions while I'm constantly pacing.

results of stress elevated...

unusual shit occurs outside my nature...

Testing my patience a ticking is reverberating

My soul departs my body the moment I've waited...

Sounds resonating my motivation is nothing to it; Fuck the world!

As free as a bird, corpses decay I shit on this earth it's cursed but...

Fortunately I'm here for a purpose.

Pradda

I'm Just a Man

As I struggle to hold onto the remnants of my depleting sanity, I am beginning to feel a lot like Alice; tumbling down the rabbits hole. Unfulfilled and completely empty, as if space without the illustriousness of the stars aesthetic value... Ultimately waiting for my Big Bang. What was once the masterpieces of love are now void of meaning and there lies within me no appreciation for the sanctity of my own cognizant genius; that of which is evidently wasted upon a godlike, yet fallibly shaken foundation of flesh and bone.

I am just a man.

The experiential dispositions of mind over matter only results in lust. Torturous... Inflictions of my conscious manifests dancing creatures in the flames atop a lit stove. Mockingly...

She...

No. I must hold strong. Nobody seems to understand that,

I am just a man.

And even at this stage where trauma promotes growth both mentally and spiritually, decimals and inches are the only relevant matter, while love is a vice and virtue all at once. Legend has it, that if a man defeats his nature he becomes a God, and his previous actions become extenuated. But at what cost? To live as a King under the paragons of virtue is a pyrrhic victory when measured to the immortality that can be acquired from a queen.

Indeed.

But I'm just rambling on the silence of my darkened dreams. I don't know what the hell I'm talking about I must still be asleep. Hell... This isn't real. I'm sorry of how I've made you feel.

I'm just a man. #KanyeShrug

Pradda

Just a thought...

Love is like the platonic adjoining of the sea against a beaches' shorelines.
One day you are at the highest elavation of your affection;
The tide is in and the waters are relatively calm
You may even hear divine voices if you listen closely.
But eventually the quiet before the storm manifests through crashing waves and white washed walls.
Tumbling down and pulling back...
Away from the shores and back into the abysmal emptiness of the oceans unknown, simultaneously erasing all exsisting evidence of a previous love;
Just as the tide erases previous footprints.
It may take one... two... or even three passes to smooth out the rough edges of the pasts indentations but eventually, you will be able to love yet again,
and new footprints will inevitably emerge
replacing older, less significant memories.

Atiwi Saka