Heya, Happy Tuesday

To your stars that draw impressions in the sky

Every time you say hi, with solemn sweet soliloquies

No, your tweets hit small delicate spots, my Sistene Chapel ceiling

Yes, you hit me pristine in a serene sense I die for days

Maybe, because you make me smile like a schoolboy with a teacher crush

I’m forever walking in Jesus’s high heels, it’s just the way you make me feel

To your stars that draw impressions in the sky

I’d like to dedicate this smallanya piece to you,

Happy Tuesday,

Peace.

Be Too Mellow, in Just One Week

Yes, Kwes I said to my open eyes 
Highway to my Heaven with eleven beat-makers 
A teaspoon and a fork and you in my Ford 
We are focused on sweet black berries 
As we hike up King’s other side of the mountain 
In speech we heal 
In ditches we speak 
With one feeling 
We will see freedom one day. 
Yes, when together we make our own nation.

Strawberry Blue Thursday Blues

Hey, Heart-Prostitute
You steal my vessels
Imagination destitute
Damn I can’t procrastinate
Jah rises in your pupils

I like, Like a lyrical cripple
I’m ripped to the ripples
With your solo quintet burnin couplets
Brawling double epithets
Lets jive, lets strive

Incredibly hulked up, my super hero
You stood there and said
Baby lets go down dizzy lane
Opened my wardrobe with my war-robe
Trojan horse my Jay-Zee
My voice horse

Tonight my love
You and me
Dream race course
Jackpot with pot
You and I
One with Jah
In one hot slot
Gunslinging smiles one-way
And one sling-shot
Talala

Can The Autumn Leaves Just Fly Away With Me?

It is cold outside and the pianos are frozen, Jazz musicians stand by the dozen as drugged as, Their bright glimmering grey brass instruments, My heart flies recklessly to and fro bobbing and weaving, Laughing at a chick in a short skirt, in high heels graduating; Peeling away softly with a song confused in monotonic happy-ness, The dull drum of love pounds itself to a lull, with clean satire; I’d rather be somewhere else than here.

Ooh P!

When the feet of the drum 
Dream like cream in a beat,
i surrender both with my switch
that which twitches 
reaches the trumpet-like voice like yours,
as it soldiers over fading barriers,
twinkle like unto dusty justice my little star
... Beat,
on the rocks with ice just because
... Heat,
Tumbling a jumble metaphorically; simile
... Feat,
that's how your smile shines in my memory,
similarly.
The only thing between me, you and the Ritz,
is tall tar as my Naija-man would say.
"How far?"
Not too far
but Tall as tar by car.
I'm leaving, Mos Def, most definitely.
Now you know - i'm a travelling man
Definitively because when your lips died mine with youR red flavored lisp whining,
with youR guitar stringed touch,
and when youR violin hisses with your smooth kisses,
I miss you, actually.
Hope I'm still your African Shaolin Tiger from Siberia. 
If not from Beijing.

Nostalgia

the wind blows, drizzles and sprinkles the corners of your dainty smile like droplets that remain behind your breeze as easily as you said good morning, goodbye i'll see you later - this morning. Sure thing I said, not knowing that pink flavoured hug lingers on as I clutch out at the stars, waiting for the robot right arrow to flash green. Can't wait to get home and see you again my strawberry.

Sweet P

The pain by the way, is that between a beaten shack and a mansion, there is a lovely story that you tell between whispers that dance with that chance that maybe perhaps your heart and mine draw calligraphy in the sands of time open an close, with your natural particulars, k... i speak in ancestral tongues, my tea with strawberries. Hola! hey, how you doing?