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Friday, November 29, 2013

The Creamy Cathedrals of Massapequa Sophia & Her Mighty Clouds of Joy



I merked the USB Pope/ Who passionately packed her hungry Hewlett with hard drives and empty hopes/ An insolvent soul, who went for broke/ The master blaster dug faster with jasper until her Microsoft Apple he plastered/ He Googled her heart/ He Downloaded her trust/ Yes, that Mac was a bastard/ With his meat feather from nether/ He scribbled her booty like Tehuti/ With the white ink/ From the pipe linked/ To the bright pink/ On a nice mink/ Before the roar of a scorching fireplace/ Soaring through epidermal vacant lots/ Spanning the farthest reaches of outer space/ Poke tails in motels/ Book ahead, son. You won’t fail/ Her pussy glue sticks to you/ Sitting on bicentennial cock blasts/ From tall/ Star-spangled staffs/ With flags/ Flying at half mass/ Massapequa passed the brass ass/ With flying colors like Wright Brothers in Technicolor/ Bite your sister/ Eat your brother/ The evil witch Haggar forecasts your bloody math with mighty Voltron’s Doppler Radar/ While dopplegang-banging on twin crips with loaded biscuits and fried fish/ You gon’ get this work/ Like slaves pumpin’ dime bricks/ I got milk, like nine tits/ Massapequa deep-throats a speedboat/ Watch it disappear from here/ She Harry Houdinis the zucchini until it sheds its pearly tears/ I pop hot silicon from my salami on Coptic fiber-optic Gnostics/ Your greatest adversarys just a Challenger/ Watch em take off like a rocket/ Hot mango summers for African drummers/ Fletcher Henderson is on the beat/ The Isley Brothers and Milton Bradley play moist pink ciphers between the sheets/ On a neutron beach beyond reach/ With sexy contra septic skeptics/ Eclectic protoplasms stain the night/ Betraying the secrets of bodies electric/ I sired rapid rapping/ Thunder-clapping/ Billboard charts/ Natal/ Twin Tower facials/ Downward thoughts are fatal/ The Earthquakes/ Milk Sheikhs/ Omar AbdelRahman/ Rastaman nuh rock mon/ You need a pen, I got wands/ Poetry rallies, from my penile valley, to flood the womb of Oshun/ As I mold universes with Ptah-Tenen ushering fools to their tombs/ Peep my Tov Nigga Maz-EL/ Cops stop and frisk Schlimaz-Els/ She Molotovs my cock ’cause I beat box like Rahzel/ Her tasty megawatt twat’s fat and fragrant like Sephora/ Lilith lets me tongue her Torah/ ’Cause I’m a cunning linguist/ Hot buttered Tefellins/ My wordplay’s distinguished/ Im Utnapishtim pushin’ the piston/ Stirring her love, averting the flood/ Tight perineum squeeze, I please/ Slip sliding away in the lane for days/ I stomp the dark to spark her ark/ My pineal gland’s her clitoris, I figure this/ Third Eye open to the Max, relax/ My double axe hacks hot tracks with brute facts/ Then I light my flambeau, ride her like a lambo, and unleash my tongue, before, I strum her like a banjo/ Van Gogh flow from the soul, shit is Yurugu/ O.G. quadruplex bars from the stars are shining through you/ My / Meticulous/ Voodoo rhymes/ Are powerful Petro lines/ That bind the mind of the deaf and blind with the subtle sturdiness of a sorcerer’s vine/ I’ll butter the summer for Donna Stunner/ Pecan make it if we try/ My DNA strands can make her dance/ The powerful interplay of wise words upbraids the helix of woman and man/ I bring cyber hugs and computer love/ I want to make love to amorous minds/ I captured the hearts of a trillion nickels, just by rhyming on a dime/ I blow hopes and dreams to smithereens/ To give you a piece of my mind/ Guinness tall and stout/ Fangs come out/ Take a whiff of her menstrual wine/ The devil locked me inside of his Rolex/ He said my writing was a crime/ But I escaped from his cell of misspell/ By transcending the boundaries of space and time/ I chef that spectacular vernacular/ Flipping mystic words like dead birds with rhythm and verve without a spatula/ Phi Slamma Jamma architecture Dunkin Donuts like I’m Drexler/ Astounding crowds and burning hecklers/Write book, fuck a lecture...