The flouse of this irregular
metronome lull my sense of spectacular
ooze. In this particular
epitome that is written without sullen,
I'm resurrected by this rhythm of drums.
My visionary mind is elevated in urban slums.
**
The consciousness of it has swollen
in my state of calmness and imagination.
The penetration of this beat
runs through my spine, from head to feet.
The cool, gentle words is what I now spit.
**
This beat within me is played without an instrument
and brings about such a remarkable astonishment
to my vigour, like a walking dead, without a conscience.
My body is a representation of this beat.
It is my protector.
My shield, my haven, my shelter.
This beat is my shoulder to cry on, my comforter,
it cures me in times of sickness,
the existence of this forms the bond between reality and dreams.
Connection between science and nature, lies and fiction.
In deep contemplation my wickedness becomes pure,
**
A cure for my illness, my mind is in progress
but my flesh is still fumbling, tumbling are earthquakes
that brake through the walls of prejudice.
This beat is the creator of justice.
When it runs in me I become ceased with peace.
So blissful like a kiss of humanity, internally soothing.
The raw tides rumble
the beat-less organisms fumble.
The beat and I are one.
It is capable of shaking the ground
and I, of course, am a producer of the underground sound,
that is only heard by dreaded stars
of high society...seraph.
**
This beat is non-racial, it's intercontinental. Runs through Mars,
Venus, Uranus, Jupiter and stuff.
Those that are afflicted by this beat obtain wisdom
and are victims of this self inflicted element.
uplifting is its utterance
that is spat by the oceans of dry.
**
Mixture of blithe and agony is the sky
which broods the clouds with uncertainty.
The echo of this beat
is tattooed to my soul
and in it it rains droplets of floods,
reminding me of life's essence, drinking, dripping intelligence from mental goblets.
I depend on this beat,
more than I depend on my pulse.
The legacy of history and everything else
that exists that is now extinct,
but still part of my life.
**
Escaping from this beat is like running
away from my own image.
It portrays the expression of my visage.
This beat has no age,
it crushes everyone, universal sabotage.
By its endurance and patience I live large.
©Vincent Mbatha (
