Jagged Thought #153: Existential Funk


 

Free Prose.

Tuesday shall come, whether with
Me or without me.

I will be a relic tied to the God Almighty
Tied to his feet, to grovel politely
My feet, my feet.
Long to the beat
Stone threes.
Ready to read. Ready to breathe. Ready to see
Gaba Gaba hey, medicate me.
Medicate me,

I am a fool who needs more schooling
No fooling, put away the bruised.
Rebel to ruin
Rebel to Ruin
Turn the turntables.
You don’t know what your doing.

My mind is blank
My ears are dank buds.
Smoke in my ears
Got me hearing Elmer Fudd, in reruns.
Got me gasping for air in tight lungs.
Running from something I can’t unrun.
Yeah Gabba got me down.
Got me thinking what now?
Existential funk…get down!

Where am I in this three ring circus.
Got a three ring binder full of blank pages
Neatly collated, Empty, blank on the surface.
Whats the purpose?
Existential funk…got me down. Get down!

I look like an aged orangutan, peace through pain
As old as Wutang Clan, but I get down with the science
Cause that’s my man, superman climbed into my ear canal
Got me wigging again….
Yeah so why are we here, Pete Rock? What you got me vibing too.
Tick tock, erase the clock, ones and twos bring bruises, skipping each stroke
Of the pen, the rhyming idiot, running circles again

Got me OCDing with the one two ten.
Thinking one two ten, spin my ring 37 times, and settle in again
Yeah I am in a funk…get down, an existential funk
Come around again.
I don’t know
Keeping in time no no, don’t end the song like that.

Im in an existential funk…yeah, and there’s no turning back

Pete Rock, why you got me rhyming?
On time again, shine like a diamond
The heartz of men, like 2pac said.
Cloudy and strung out again, and grabbing iron.
Yeah pump and dump bite the body.
Yeah love the gun, so deadly, fab five freddy got me ready
To rock steady. Drop strings of vocals, like Mario Andrettie on the momo
Tribe called Quest got me in replay mode, no locomotive
No loco.
No vocals, just instrumental, why you got me dizzy again Pete Rock
You messing with the mental.
Ill presidential far from centered
Man of letters, capitalized, on each word I write, no man can do it better.

Sick with this poetry shit.
Ill legit, rhyming eccentric with two left feet dancing to the beat
Got two slit wrists got hell in my head and heaven beside me, like Alice In Chains.
I need to be free.
Free me.
Listening to Pete Rock. Listening to one two, steady freeze
The beats got me bruised, bleeding heart, pen ink frozen
Licorice rhymes.
Yeah, my mind shines like a diamond.
Mental like the Shining. Like the rhymer rhyming on time to the
Beats supplied, scratch it up, each groove in the record
Got the jury sequestered but the Jury is in,
And I am guilty of this…that existential funk got my dizzy again.
I am in an existential funk, who am I where am I, what do I do now?
I’m in an existential funk,
get down

 

Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine.