Agape, I gaze through keyboards and cables, past the unspun legs of a precision nob’n’switch flippin’ master monkey with a mic to the skin-slappin’ gorilla blowing my mind:
DEAD PA are primates of superior descent;
If God so said “Let there be light,” this is what He meant.
O’Mojo most mad;
Star-forged DnB Preachers, these asses are bad.
The mixture swims thicker near intakes;
Bandwidth bunged and promptly plunged with arc-brilliant black and eager breaks.
The sleeper be awake; crack, spin feeed;
Synch, super-pose, collapse and breathe;
This is it, critical digital mass, believe.
A superfluid-slick, crystallizing, proselytizing archetypal kick-in-the-teeth;
Bitch got the beef.
Lo’ the rhythms right yo’ wrongs, Truth striding forth shall stomp your fettered soul free o’flesh and out brothahhh! way out!
No comments:
Post a Comment