I had a red bull eight hours ago,
And still buzzing like yo, yo, yo
Like a yo-yo, up and down,
Listening to Madlib
Jotting this down
Took my meds calmed down now…
So it’s a New Year, time to be cheerful
Stopping letting tears fall
Down like indigo clouds,
Like rain rides rivers, and rolling figures figures
We listen to the music
And rock till we blistered,
That’s what I do….its been a good year,
And I need to write more,
Let it all down, like on the chopping floor
But peace, let words mean more,
Till you getting down, writing with
A tour devoir, peace to the howdy howdy
Listening to Madlib
About to get rowdy,
Shouting, cheezy, cheezy
This shit is so easy
Don’t sound good, don’t sound bad, but ya better believe me
When I take it easy and start to think,
Then out comes the thoughts
Like the kitchen sink
So peace to you and peace to me,
Lets celebrate peacefully,
Rocking to this beat, to the sound of the drum
Might sound dumb, but I’m just having fun
Not being so serious, being delirious being
Experienced with the bic, I can write like this,
But now some dude is interrupting me,
I just want to hear the beats release, there it is,
Thank you Madlib, for the realness.
Man this beat is killing me
Yeah here we go really though
Lyrically defeating me,
Is like beating the trilogy
Writing not battle rapping
Call it poetry,
Cause it comes from my fingers
But when I speak it might sound different
So I guess, I’ll play with the lyrical quickness
Here we go, flow goes the snow goes the snow globe goes
The globe go global, writing to the sound of the beat machine
Sounds perfect to me, me myself myself and I,
Lyrical outcry, yell bye-bye writing peace God,
Cause that’s what we do…
Writing to Madlib, but I want to hear the beats, I respect the emcees
But I need to hear my own voice speak. Flip the cd, be back in a minute
Imbetween the interludes, I just flip the lyrical quickness.
Maybe switch to 9th for that straight boom-bap,
Or listen to something different maybe kick it to jazz.
You know what flipping to an instrumental….hold on a minute
Be back in a jiff though…holy shit, I just found something ridiculous
Here we go, let me write to this….
Ok, alright one you know I don’t write that much, but my books never been published?
Yeah right, I have been writing since I can remember
Even before my parents called it quick and It was the only thing I could hold on to
Like when in fifth grade, I used a metaphor, like something like
He ran like the wind, that’s the one I used, and my teacher was like yeah that’s a good one to do….haha, it makes me smile, that I got this oddball style, yeah been doing this so long, that even ezekial thinks my mind is gone, that’s a bite on a weird al yankovic lyric, but the shit sounds sick so I had to spit it.
Man, this sounds so good…alright, here we go again, do I tell the world that I’m in like Flynn with my writtens? First of all not what I am writing sounds good, that’s not what I am saying but this shit I am listening to…damn, so this is my column on oddball today..here we go
Finished. Not even, not a god or a demon, not the reason that people in the streets bleeding, im just a cat, who writes nicknamed jazz been writing ever since I remember that, got chuck shoes, and listen to you, and you talk about how good you do. I just kick it when I can get a chance rhyming to the minute, not editing, rhyming avalanche call it a free prose, I’m just going off the radar to the lyrical so and so, yeah, here we go, and go again, and go and go again…writing in a minute, be back again
Having fun with the digital pen, kicking it to the boom bat, and doing it again, yeah
That’s what I love about poetry.
The freedom y’all, the freedom. Freed
Jason Wright is the founder and Editor of Oddball Magazine. His “Jagged Thoughts” column appears weekly.
James Conant is a Cambridge artist who has recently added photography to his skills, which include clay sculpture, pen and ink, montages, and pencil art. He is always available for work and collaboration.