Hip Hop 1.30.10

Some don't react well
Some love it
But all react

10.11.09

The teeth of the people

Now to go find some more wonderful; a different branch of wonderful
Consistent elements, alternate perspectives
New environments, fixed responses
Harsh winds and heavy rains, lighter eyes without bright cosmic influences
Darker stares without slow, vulnerable securities
Metallic in lieu of matte primaries
Shouts over whispers
Stride tramples over step

A new terrain
A jungle

A predictive future

The ocean is incredibly small.
Giant, mutated hills with downward stares, making a mockery of the blue.
Primitive, organic comrades. Made rivals by a younger cosmic aftershock.
One finally conquered by the other.
The hills stand, heavy with fabricated influence.
Their time is approaching soon.
Blue stays, only swayed by distant relativity that which is the wind; acting as a team, never won over by this frequent, particular guest.
Never conquered.
Until now.
Who was the threat? Who won?
Who will win?
In this bland, yet terrifying domain.
Potentially real.


Intricate designs disappear after awhile, do they return?
Where is a cause when the effect's are so obvious and loud?

Ideals take precedence over reality, and we lose.