Not really hip hop...not really spoken word....not sure what this is. I just made it, ok? pretty much a poem with a beat to it....yeah....that's it.
Hip.
You have entered Scarecrow Joe's music web page.
Lyrics
Makeshift Midnight
Time Capsule
in a television box
I watch grainy
black and white
dead people.
Colorless people
dancing around
as stale as the
served crumpets
to static trumpets
played by dead
colored jesters.
That are sequestered.
In time will choose to rebel
But for now they jive
and let it fester.
All with lively
smiles and breath
oblivious to all
but the flash
they are frozen in.
the death
Gut rot punch and
hand rolled cigarettes
gulped and burned
in excess
almost as if knowing
without showing
they were being
immortalized. Or at the very least canonized
for at the very least my own eyes, at least.
I walk outside bereft
The neighbors to the left
have their sprinklers set for midnight,
They kick on mid cigarette.
Under a full moon trying its best
to offer its version of afternoon delight.
I put my hand in my pocket
Dig some lent and flick it towards the skyyy
It wrestles with the pull of the world and
weightlessness of being trivial to divinityi¿½s eye,
just like you and I.
my thoughts are Amassed in division and harassed
From the smart assed
cynicism and derision
my fork tongue whips into this night,
and the next night, and the next.
Iti¿½s not a natural way of being
But Ii¿½m seeing that unnatural is my nature
Stamped with a guarantee in efforts
to spoil surprise endings of a displaced rapture
(1:36)
and with our rusting coat of arms
that everyday buys so many farms
we pamper, we coddle,
spoil our fears at full throttle
that smears the real with the fabric,
to the laymen terms for worms
to the speech of an enigmatic priest,
making my stomach churn, by both.
By both of them.
But like so many of my earthly
expansive family prefer the complex
simplicity breeding felicity
from the unfurled mystery of life
resonates as a deity.
I see her. I hear her
(2:03)
Like the silhouette of a beautiful suffragette
eaves dropping on her soliloquy
of how she views the world to be
with angelic scrutiny
that some try to follow, some lead
but I just want to kiss her cheek.
Is that so wrong?
