live

Bury Tomorrow / Chunk! no, Captain Chunk / Demoraliser / Napoleon

I live for those cats whom simply snarl back when I bare my teeth.

Those kids with green eyes and a killer instinct, finger guns in the air shooting the breeze all swagger about the daggers in their smile. 

The no rope's heavy enough to hang this hope humans who have clocked its all a game and now sit steady scoping like a snake who spotted where to catch a ladder, silently rolling the dice between fingers memorising the curves and turns.
so that when the throw comes, the full force of purpose kills any competition.

The plotters, the rats, the bombers, alley cats

and those seldom speakers keeping a faith lit religious in their heart.

This is for those biding-their-time motherfuckers, those who step still undercover. 

Those who work to find a want to need, those who need to work to want to but don't let dreary days shift their bones to nonchalance. 

Im with you, you fucks, let's collapse the castle, I've got no plans other than success
so i'll see you climbing over those bodies that mountain as the rest.  

We picked apart our brains in the Summer plumage of industries afterglow

placing feet to feet in ruins incomplete on land once lauded as gold.

The sun was setting behind piles of brick that once held so many individual histories, but not no more since the world moved on without a whimper and forgot the many miles it had forged with a million young hands.

The lack of presence where promise once was felt peaceful. 

Not like i was tampering with a sleeping lion but instead was buried in the ribcage of a dead god that was no longer relevant. 

Industry decays in the same organic manner as organic matter, the effects on the grieving are the same. 

But there is creativity in every crevice,

I held aloft a single tire whilst balanced on another upright and recited

"this too has passed, this too has passed"

Back then when she sipped our diction slowly.

I don't know what I'm feeding but this essence is malignant, theres shadows stuck to my lungs

and with every breathe i linger on for a few seconds in the haze of post existence

between two breaths, between two lives lost lighting over a garbage can fire in the bronx. 

This flats too small, I keep feeding my hands some delicate plans

but i'll meditate on it and sip spirits with this spirit that is glimpsed in the flickr of a streetlamp

keep it close to my heart.

I drank so much coffee i fucking spewed! i fucked it all goal like and cast my tongue to the sky.

yo DJ turn your fucking treble down mate - this is ludicrous, I'm trying to have a decent conversation with some low eyed brothers and i cant hear the bile i spit from my stomach. Im yelling parables like theres no tomorrow and they sit and lurch their ears without hearing a damned thing!

How is the lot supposed to come together, I'm done banging my fist, they cant hear shit.

This Motown loudness ain't settling well in my stomach, I'm a luddite for technology, prone to sit and strum some old one string tales about how she ain't coming home no more.

See my man long fingers keeps scratching, keeps muttering about maintaining and the golden goliath at the end of his road, he chats some rare shit but doesn't shift units just sits stifling looking all post mortem.

But you don't see him like I do, I see a here too big for ambiguity. He's a cat thats watched too many suns set, the kind who fought to understand beauty. I've watched him bury love and cradle success bigger than Everest. because he's just a kid i knew that got overtaken by age, whose shadows switched sides.

But he sunk low - he saw too much, many masks. Caught too many daggers in smiles and sunk behind the concrete poles of bridges, waiting.

sharp corners left us leaving suddenly from a shock invite, hoods up bikes peddled down the road for fear of follying the future. These vigorous styles will have to wait another night.
i peddled like id stole it, single geared my own direction away from fear. I'm done waiting, done slaving to a day to marries brains with such debating.

3:30am a conversation between a drug dealer & his client.

chatter boxes chattering in dark alleyways whilst i waited out on stairways

i couldn't help but overhear

teeth rattling rat a tat tat all shaking hands

client:

no bruv you see you never sold enough to keep the shadows away, this fireplace creaks and needs to eat to fan its flames. 

now just lend me enough to settle on, i just need to sleep soundly man its been far too long since i rested deep in birds & song. 

come on just slide another sullen hit this way, i got a mouth to feed and a hungry conscious to ignore. 

you know how these moons hang heavy

you know these steps ain't steady.

dealer:

is it distance? because it certainly aint divinity

you see the problem with us is the economy, aint no place for 3am alley way rats just trying to cut and paste, living from day to day,

there aint no breeze to soften the gallows taste. 

we hang with bedlam not ambrosia 

we sip cider not champagne 

so make your own way little man, go stalk some ghosts that rest heavy through the day. 

so lurch

wrestle with that moonlight

test the levels sent from heavenly scents stalled up high.

this environment is changing, soon our dubs will be dust.

you can see in the yellowing of industry, the scars have turned to rust. 

I've just adopted the cities image, seen those kilns spit fire now I'm settled all forgiven 

accept we were never meant for future tense and maintain, makes moves through the maze.

Big in the History of Western Philosophy game.

Socrates, Plato & Aristotle.
recent sketch. A3

We create our culture, out there on the streets we are promoting the story of Graffiti. In every tag and every dub we perpetuate the grand stories our art can tell. Graffiti is a means to an end only the open eyed can smell & the veterans can understand. There is no middle ground. In everything you do there is a poise for future purpose, man is a political animal, every action we do resignates how we want the world to be shown. And yet I struggle to explain to people why I'm a vegetarian, because I have never the words to hand and I keep my knife close to my own bones.