I've written this over the course of the past two months or so. PLI inspired me to write my own magnum opus:

As rays of light pray to the night for the day to be bright
A thermite blast ignites the magnetite crash site
Of the hovercraft’s last flight with a flash of white like cristobalite
A polymorph of quartz and tridymite, I ghostwrite post-life
In the agora and focus on the Lotus flora
My aura’s the aurora or a Menorah next to the Torah
Before it’s extinguished but this cunning linguist
Doesn’t give cunnilingus in exchange for fellatio
I kick a Golden Ratio hole in your radio, the Carl Jung, Clavier-Übung
Who molds words of creation and starts to record
Goldberg Variations from a harpsichord
That pours a metaphor spiel of golden molten steel
That congeals into the nucleus of a sealed electromag field
That shields an anti-grav wheel, which conceals the real
With abilities that reveal your Achilles’ Heel
The Faustian Bargain’s a deal, signed in blood on the dotted line above
With a push and a shove burst of quarks and hertz
The Universe first exploded, then the girth of the Earth was bloated
As its birth floated, at the worm stage of the sperm in the egg
Forming a chrysalis, inside a widow with morning sickness
The proto-mojo mistress, Maya-Gaia-Jinniya
The Shakti of Sati on the funeral pyre
And a resonance amplifier wired to the mechanics of telegeodynamics
That recreates the earthquake that forsake Atlantis
With a signal that transmits in an encrypted bandwidth
Below quasar and radar standards, I tampered
With that which was stranded and crashlanded
Where the shell of the gods fell at Roswell, with Truman as president
This travesty’s tragedy was caused by the gravity of my presence
From a battery, the cavity of Schumann Resonance
A bright idea light years beyond the Atom Bomb and Thomas Edison
The precedent that powers Wardenclyffe Tower, my residence
Where I brood in a pensive mood, until I viewed
The soothsayer Maitreya on the sky’s sodium layer
I took aim at the Mother Brain and became the slayer
Of the object on the view screen from Project Blue Beam
With a new prospect of what true means, gene therapy with machine dexterity
And mechanical lube for nanotubes, fused to be used in Radio Frequency ID transponders
That the GOV sponsors monitor, from a station at Mount Weathertop
As Jason and the Argonauts embargo the nation’s docks
Since the Golden Fleece was sold in Crete, as a plot
For it to be stolen from Greece by a priest from Camelot
On Third Rock, made from obsidian, Tridium
And time’s Prime Meridian equator, it’s Traser Triton
The Titan dash/hyphen, Doctor Zhivago Iago
Slash Lycan, the miscreant Pythian Apollo
Who contains the flame of Prometheus in a bottle
So in other words, if you can’t explain your thesis
Then it’s absurd, facetious and hollow like a cliché motto
But in Hell Diablo’s “El Dorado,” as an Asura and Ahura Mazda
In the Saba Merkaba, reading the Dhammapada
Bleeding stigmata while pleading to Abba
Close to death like Imhotep on the top step of a mastaba
Your yada yada, sing-a-long bars are hoopla
I sing the Song of the Stars with Credo Mutwa, my grandpa
But rap’s grandfather’s Hip Hop’s martyr, with a microphone charter
For Jones and Carter, to spit harder in the game, the same as Professor Germaine Tesla
The MC Escher Zero Vector Speech Compressor, hero and protector
The sole possessor of Nero’s specter, held in captivity by paranormal activity
The nativity of which is psychic ability, the highest facility
Central to Grendel Gregor Mendel, who rips out entrails with tendrils
Covered in scales that I assemble, from spare parts and a repair chart
Voltaic arcs glow and spark, as the Wizard of Menlo Park embarks
Through a blizzard of snow in the dark, with the Grim Reaper, to the rim of the ether
Where speakers glitch, but it gets deeper than this
Heat seekers miss, return and hit, then burn you to bits
When it’s my turn to spit, a beast at peace with the fish, in the deep sea abyss
That he eats from a Petri dish, but if he grips the pen, it constricts and bends
Like a hair trigger with split ends, as he sits and begins
To write from midlight to midnight then to six AM
When the hell bent Devil sent an Extinction Level Event
But I Spider-Sense intent before its attempt
In order to prevent the action meant for acting against
My action’s defense, the wrath of Men, but on the path to Zen
Zavf is a ten, the crème de la crème, with the Nephilim’s next of kin next to him
Death grins as necks spin and twist like The Exorcist, the Exodus from a body to exit it
My intro, to where the nexus is, in limbo, with Swamis and kamis from Shinto
In the chakra lotus posture, akimbo, a Mandela’s my symbol
Plus an affidavit, signed by David the Pious
After he slayeth Goliath, with the spear of Leonidas and the tears of Midas
During times of fear or crisis appears Isis, that’s who the true mother of Christ is
Before Hip Hop is lifeless, I had to write this
Hot mist of white spit in tight twists like a seamstress on a steamship
This dream is fiendish and not for the squeamish
Who are stuck in-between it, on the Road to Damascus
I’m a behemoth at his zenith, an ingenious maverick
The phoenix that rose from the ashes, and wrote a passage in a book of matches
About the fascist Light Bearer night terror, who’s a Yogi like Hannah-Barbera
But far greater, the stargazer in a Mars crater, Maitreya
The Creator who labors for days with no pay, the Seven Rays and the Greys as Heaven prays
To dig a grave as big as a cave in order to convey
The level you’re on, that I’m beyond and which deserves a medal of bronze
With several charms and the Devil’s brawn, I break my bonds
Then escape the Fronde with the Vicomte de Bragelonne
At Mount Hermon with von Braun and a blue-eyed blond, this is Mein Kampf
To proceed with and complete it, the Space Race, impeded by an elided pace
So now I give chase to tailgate a comet through space
Then admonish and state to the database recorder tapes
That all planets are global, mechanic and mobile
The C-8, galaxy is shaped like the Canibus logo
With majesty and grace, Germanicus is a mogul
Jonathan Swift with “A Modest Proposal,” and spectroscopic vocals
Anti-social, so I can’t be local, from Azerbaijan to the Rubicon
Then Abbadon with Kubla Kahn, Brahm, and Rudra-Ammon
Plus the Necronomicon to embalm the world’s sins
To Merlyn a squire asks, “What’s in the Erlenmeyer Flask?”
“A backdraft of flammable gas and a whirlwind of fire and ash,” from the mast to the aft
You hear a sadistic laugh, this second’s your last, once the weapon’s blast
Makes the zeppelin crash, sections splash the ocean, cracked and broken
Is that crack that you’re smoking? You shouldn’t have spoken
You sound like a junkie, a high-school flunky, with an IQ as high as two
But I’m just as high as you, with a sky view of the bayou
That I fly to with supplies of food, for an R&D lab the army has
In a lagoon, with a room for the West to resume
Tests on the festoon boom of the mushroom cloud shroud of doom
During a full moon, it looks like high noon, holding a bent spoon, I patch my wounds
While listening to iTunes on an Azune, after scopes zoom
As soon as Tomcats shoot the uplink to COM Sat on the roof
ASAP, combat troops in BDUs and black combat boots regroup
As the general screams “MOVE!” to his crew and the Forward Observer
Who orders to shoot further with brute fervor, the root to murder
Recruits with names I’ve never heard of, in a foreign language
The only thing that isn’t foreign is anguish, we all know what pain is
So we’re not really Perfect Strangers, we even share the same anger
But the Titans were frightened and their senses were heightened
By the crossbreed of a man, a bee and a manatee
Who can hand squeeze a man till he bleeds, commands the seas
The sands, the breeze, Banshees and Comanches, that’s insanity
That’ll cause calamities like the Sword of Damocles, but this is a message to humanity
Broken mirrors don’t reflect your vanity, in the mirage of a desert dream
Where the glow of solar beams has scopolamine, side-effects
Like a heavy dosage to the neck, with a syrette
Also filled with Percocet, per cassette with no tax percentage
Selling rhymes at a $1.99 per sentence, is an apprentice
Researching a premise, turned Merchant of Venice
And more, a landlord serving his tenants as the superintendent
In a computer invented last remnant of a decadent past
With nuclear weapons en masse, stashed below the dirt of grass and Astroturf
A hidden door with the girth of the earth, slides to the side
To reveal where the concealed missiles hide, satellites provide pictures
Of the aperture in the shape of a boa constrictor, Splinter Cells enter hell
And repel down the well, with the Fifth Freedom, for this reason
To get a bead on a tech, the head of the sect, then let him bleed to death
Till he’s free of debt and beads of sweat, leave his forehead wet
Then retrieve the key to his desk from his neck
To get the magnetic cassettes & back-up disks, then pack-up the risk
This is Alpha 6, we got the glitch and the pics, plus six are in a ditch
Off the record, I’m sick to the pit of my stomach from it
This is never what I wanted, the hunter being hunted is confronted
By ghosts of the past, the skeletons in the closet ask to retreat
But I gotta complete the task, too frightened to laugh, I tighten my mask
As we reach the helipad, just as the extraction points in range
A point blank to the brain, nothing was explained
The last thing I saw was a flame fade in the rain as my blood drained
My love of the game from my veins, mission over, missing soldiers with flags draped over Empty coffins
The enemy’s cautioned by the president that an attack is evident
From New York to Cali he’ll rally the nation in retaliation
And turn their valleys to basins, the funeral directors Carpenter and Craven
Write and produce the Harbinger of Days End, after payment
Cassius & Brutus, the sons of Judas, Follow the Leader, Caesar Ebenezer
With symptoms of fever and cryptomnesia, plus candor of hate
For the commander of the state like Alexander the Great
Who waits for the date and time of fate divine
In the confines of his palace, they poisoned the wine in his chalice out of malice
A callous act of spite by an acolyte wearing a monk’s hood like aconite
Rapping on mics with the Passion of Christ
Whose actions breed strife like a klaxon-klieg light
The sacrifice who lacks sight and hangs from stalactites
Brought back to life during the black of night with bat bites
As a human taxidermist who owns a pair of jeans made from Ed Gein’s epidermis
The earnest avatar of SARS Myanmar, the czar of the Dog Star
With a jar of feldspar, the Asian Minotaur with a scar and an Arabian scimitar
Who uses his repertoire of grammar in a bizarre manner
As a star of the cameras records the skies
Lord of the Flies camera motor drives buzz like insect hives
With shutterbugs inside, as a heretic rides through the desert abyss environ
With Pride and Prejudice, sirens blast at the Man in the Iron Mask
The Last Samurai Ronin Lord of Roman law, lions roar with iron jaws
And limbs to gnaw, as the Dark Lord pens his grimoire behind locked doors
On the top floor of a citadel in the pit of hell next to the nautilus shells by the shore
With a View from Masada by a lava waterfall, and the Hydra seawall that ensures
No escape from a Wraith like Charlie Sheen who’s hardly seen
A speed of light starry beam on a Harley machine
Named Nazarene that careens through the dividers, the driver’s the Ghost Rider
The administration’s information warfare provider
A prodigy who practices the Black Arts and its processes
With a Blackheart like Mephistopheles, and raps anonymous with the traits and properties
Of the Black Monolith from a Space Odyssey, that’s state property
Since it predates prophecies from scriptural tablets, written by a miserable maverick
With a habitual habit to practice the rituals of mystical magic
With Arabs and scarabs in the arid desert, aboard the Nebuchadnezzar
With a V for Vendetta, Neo reloads his berretta, as the Architect inventor
Rebuilds the Hokkaido district into a Golden Spiral lemniscate
While I study hieroglyphics with mystics on my Cairo visits
With wizards, scribes and sages, live on stages, a magus
Reads this from the pages of the Secrets of the Ages
The author’s the Siddhartha King Arthur Lord of the Rings archer
Working for DARPA, the Prince turned Pauper
Set to inherit the Ark of the Covenant coffer
A myriad of rap poems and the pyramid capstone
The Eye of Providence missing from the obelisk
On the opposite side of a Washington capital bill, at Chapel Hill
I hold a feast in the Old East where I was told to be
When it was sold to me for a scroll and a beat, by the Grand Master
With a piston sand blaster of Egyptian land plaster and a mission plan for disaster
After I read poetry for each bead on the Rosary
But opposed to me and the noble part of this “Notable Art” is the Vatican
As I cross the Bridges of Madison, under the Royal Arch where the loyal march
Through the Ninth Gate to Pan’s Labyrinth, where the soil is parched
I oil my parts till they’re squeaky clean, a well-oiled machine
From the Jihad regime in God’s dream, but as odd as it seems
One workman from Halliburton makes more than a soldier working
To protect the land they’re searching, where insurgents are lurking
With callous minds, grey matter in a chalice of wine
Raised in cheers to a palace and shrine, with praise and tears for Palestine
Outside space-time, Satan’s room is a womb in a cocoon, entombed in paintings of runes
And sigils of a Phoenix Desert Eagle perched on a church steeple
That protects the Earth and its First People from the Prequel before the Sequel
When the land and sea were equal, Pangaea-Panspermia, Shiva and Santa Maria
Against the Rudra quantum computer during the Kali Yuga
Ali Buddha’s jab maneuver’ll Roc-A-Fella like Zab Judah
The Asura Mara versus Shankara in the Krishna avatarah as Hari-Hara
Reading the Dhammapada, bleeding stigmata, pleading to Abba
The Hammer of Dawn meta-grammar psalm tetragrammaton
In the Kabbala and as Allah in the Koran, the angelic Hellspawn
With chemical bonds, a neutron bomb warhead with nuclear arms and napalms
Deus Ex Machina, the afterlife and light manufacturer of characters
Such as the One made from the rays of the sun
When the play of the drums decays to none, once the day is done
This is what I say to some, my blue-gray hue Cray Blue Ray weighs a ton
But hey I’m not done, as Osiris rolls the papyrus scroll
That King Midas stole from Leonidas and sold for pirate’s gold
I blindfold your eyes closed, with wiring and gauze for a firing squad
After hiring God to guard with a call, while you pray to St. Paul
The strange scrawl of your bloodstain sprawl paints the wall like paint balls
Then I crawl to Gaul from the Rabbit Hole below the Giza Plateau
To where Paris is at, past caves of bats, back from a palace in Iraq
With an ALICE pack full of artifacts, at sundown, but no tracks
Found close to the ground in that ghost town, only a king’s crown
With sapphire gems in the diadem, on the path to Zen
Zavf is Aten and his denizen, you feel the wrath of his pen
As the Nazarene and the Elohim’s regime captures your team with a tractor beam
Kidnapped mid-rap and submerged in a ravine, gene pools and bloodstreams purged clean
Below sea level where the Devil’s supreme in a submarine
While the Rothchilds scheme to make the populous docile and serene
With fluorine and morphine, that means more fiends
This is a Halloween, Sleepy Hollow scene, with Constantine
In a mezzanine in between fathoms of ectoplasm in a necro chasm that steams
I Scream “mazel tov,” then throw a Molotov at the screen
While Beezlebub cackles as the hells above crackle
Around the honorary Adam’s Apple in his monastery’s tabernacle, a cryo-capsule
Below Seattle with mutilated cattle and the Morlocks of Hadal
Who alter their shape below the water in a lake
Behind a fireball firewall with a water gate
Where my recorder tapes are kept in a crate, by order of the state
Encased in a pine box made of lime rock with a time-lock
But the Timecops can’t find the spot of the space-time interlock
Watched by Autobots, so go ahead and “Show Me What You Got”
But not your monotonous rhymes, your preposterous, I’m Optimus in his Prime
With a Cyberdyne type of mind, that’s indebted to the psychokinetic
Micro-mimetic genetics imbedded in my bloodstream
And the nanomachines sewn in-between the seams of the hem of my genes
Deemed clean by quarantine hygiene procedures, DNA readers
Sanitizers, breathalyzers, voice analyzers with photo receptors
And sagala metal detectors in a Private Sector
Where twelve Roswell personnel health inspectors gesture to sequester
Specters into a low-pressure, Zero Vector, E= MC Escher dimension compressor
Where unchartable, nautical, rechargeable wave particles
Shift shape in a condensed space structured by a quantum coupler interface
As magnetic tapes record the star date in a black box
And the vox of the doc with small pox, “This is our last shot!”
On deck Mr. Spock’s on watch, next Mr. Scott beams me up to Third Rock
Light bound to the surf, where Captain Kirk commands the Earth
With his hands in the dirt like palm trees or hands immersed to embalm me
The ornery clinical therapist, Serapis, the Einstein de facto emeritus
Professor Kline of Pepperdine signed to GlaxoSmith, cause his rap flow’s sick
Fastidious, how I intend to spit, as hideous as Darth Sideous in Revenge of the Sith
At the end of the script, who offered “A Modest Proposal” like Jonathan Swift
An airlift from the airstrip to the La Brea Tar Pits
With Princess Leia in the Starship Enterprise
Which the bars I spit energize, Jean-Luc Picard’s Captain’s Log 2025
The star date from a bizarre place past the stars of space
And through the Stargate with Scarface
Plus a Halo nuclear payload to make New Year’s Day glow
So lay low for the fall of the sky, if you look into the ball of my eye
You’ll find a tribe playing the drum call of a war cry, all rise
As the sun nosedives and collides with the low tide
And my worldwide, GPS, third-eye, CBS, projects over the Net and TV sets
As the rest of my thoughts transmit in Sanskrit, across the Force bandwidth
From a command ship that hovers over Atlantis, with electromag anti-grav
From the launch pad to a space station, in the shape of the face of Satan
Controlled by the Masons, enclosed and encased in, the enfolds of a Penrose basin
The size of which stretches from Glen Clove to Dayton
An incendiary conflagration of demolition cavemen at a Days Inn cave-in
The Morlocks of Hadal beneath rock and gravel while Warlocks do battle
In a land to the North, a Man of the Cloth and Gandalf in a stand-off
Against Jack Frost, a Blackhawk, Sasquatch, and a Viking Norse
In a bearskin cloth, playing La Crosse on a sea horse, a Poseidon sport
As a Hobbit of the Shire drinks from the Goblet of Fire then coughs
A mouth full of salt and foam froth bubble broth, then morphs into Lord Soth
The goth Fisher King, King Fisher, the Lord of the Rings enlister
Married to Lilith’s sister, who possesses the modesty of a temptress
An Odyssey of the Tempest, prophecy of a sentence embodies me to invent this
Einstein’s time course that’s tenseless
Like verbs missing from the discourse of a sentence
The Fifth Element with six senses and Ultraviolet lenses
Pretentious and unrepentive, but pensive like Abdul Ras Al Ghoul in Hyrule
With Zule and the Nazgul, what some say is cruel
When they try to belittle you with ridicule
When it has little to do with how lyrical are you
But with how thoughts mix with knowledge accrued and frost bit solid cubes
Not polished jewels, I’m in the Fortress of Solitude
About to blow a fuse like electrical panels
That short-circuit for trying to test me like urine samples
So press delete, reset repeat then hit cancel
Before I trample you rats and worms on the back of a pachyderm
Named Ganesha with the vista of Shiva in the Vedas, Vishnu in the Bhagavad-Gita
Mithra and Odin from the Edda, in the façade of the Upanishads
Prajapati, in an Egyptian Ra, Nag Hammadi Light Body, description Ka
In a space pod in the shape of the face of God, that lands in Cape Cod
Next to a Masonic Lodge, with a hodgepodge of metaphysical testaments
You never met a physical specimen this reticent with medicine
And bright ideas light years beyond the atom bomb and Thomas Edison
This is my promise of precedent, a picturesque literature text
Back From Hell at sunset, with seashells for flesh, dressed like the Old West
With the smell of rum on his breath and his foot on a Deadman’s Chest
Guess whose back to spit from the depths of the Black Abyss
It’s the Navy’s own Davy Jones and the Guns of Navarone
Here to turn your rims of chrome to brimstone
As Dark Matter combines with its own, Dark Energy and binds to my bones
While Rembrandt and Secant cosign my poems
Revised and proofread by the English Department, written on parchment
About Marvin the Martian in an X-33 Lockheed Martin with 300 Spartans
Starting an attack from above, as the black glove of Dr. Strangelove
Pushes the button, emcees WMD, Witness the Mass Destruction
After I record and just before post-production
From the combustion of a vacuum suction’s energy flux and spin
All life and light is sucked in but I win, then as one of the last two
I attack you, with that Big Apple Capital Punishment
Then build a castle with a cryo-capsule, just to bury you under it
Asunder in bits, where you lay till the day spelunker Tomb Raiders plunder it
Thunder rips the sky as lightening splits it wide
And hits the side of a lifeboat caught in a rip tide
This is the right approach to cause a mic to smoke in my How-to-Spit Guide
My vow to this is why I can’t sit-by and let Hip Hop die
Or wait for the globe’s solstice, the pole shift’s inert traits
To invert the state of the Coriolis force, to counterclockwise in the North
From the foam froth bubble broth, is the Pisces of the high seas, a fish
Cultured in a Petri dish, in a submersible ship, a circular disc with vertical lift
Whose flight maneuvers are due to a computer chip, from MIB Division 6
Equipped with, electromag, anti-grav pads, from NORADS research and development lab
The pilot who sees in ultraviolet’s a nomad, a space drifter shape shifter
Whose face differs and reconfigures, its resemblance
To that of a Dog-Faced Gremlin named Kremlin, with evil intentions
And an evil invention powered by a diesel engine
On the Highway to Hell, a parallel dimension, with the Merovingian of the Matrix engine
The Frenchman and his henchmen, who dwell where trolls toll bells
For the host of hell, a Ghost in the Shell, Hades with the Spear of Destiny
Rosemary’s Baby and lady Persephone
Who’s enchanted by the pomegranate sulfur of Malebolgia’s name
His claim to fame are soldiers trained to roast ya to Folgers grain
But from the Flames of Pain I escaped in a plane and became
An X-File exile in Bermuda who “Fights the Future,” with the light of the Buddha
A mic and a computer, I’m the producer, of this excerpt from an expert's first page
Who's a true sage of the New Age: “The first stage was the birth of an egg
The matryoskha Oracle oyster in the cloister
Time immemorial’s daughter from the primodial waters, the Master Chef
As the night pastor of the light pastures begets life after death
Next is the ref, Reshef, the Architect, to his left are the Muses
And Anubis with the Caduceus who produces Hermes on a gurney
The injury attorney, Thrice Majestic, twice perfected like light reflected
From the Nommo’s mysterious seas to Sirius B, the po sene seed of Digitaria
To the area of Sumeria, the Pit Bull Terrier of the Dogon tribe’s
The Dog in the Sky, Lord on High, partisan ace of the artisan race, Sargon the Great
A carbon-based archon of space with a Cydonian Martian’s face
Marching state to state, border to border and back, in fact
My footprints are all over the map, ASAP, with that
This Lycan siphons like tree sap from a tap, the blood of Titans from a vat like a bat
When you’re trapped like rats, my wolf pack attacks your block with guns cocked
Plasma rifles, gun shots rival the sunspot cycle
To crush the moon into dust (KABOOM), when I Sundance at high noon
After a teaspoon of pixie dust from a Dixie cup, this is a pick me up
But how can a killer be tuff who likes Hillary Duff and Lindsay Lohan
Your ministry holds hands plus your no man I know and
You’re programmed to lose, blow the dam with a fuse, that’s the plan I use
Detonate the switch, but I don’t facelift to escape the risk of being caught
I morph and shapeshift, blast off in a spaceship with a passport to the Matrix
Where the last resorts to take a trip, then report to where the base is
And the general’s dead, in a chemical shed, where I was seminal bred
On a mineral bed with pharmaceutical meds, led home to the Dead Zone
Through the White Noise in my headphones, I fled Rome when it fell
As well as the Hel of the Abzu before the Deluge, and sort refuge
With Apsu, Lahmu, and Anu on Nibiru with Vishnu, before returning to Eridu with my sifu
Enki of the Palenque, the noble Quetzalcoatl, to the locals, he sent me
With a plan in place, slitherin’ through the verdant landscape with sermons of grace
As a Feathered Serpent of man’s faith who are servants of a race
To whom which they are vermin and apes, so when you see this man’s face
You balls of slime better fall in line and stand straight for the magistrate
A bombastic John the Baptist in a bronze attack ship
From the pond of the black abyss, prawns and catfish
To bond, bomb or blacklist those who don’t respond back with
Tact and wit in the raps they submit, who think they’re nice at first
Can’t write a verse so they revert back to this, talking about gats and whips
Plus stacks and chips but in truth are too wack to spit at all
Before and after the fall of the Jericho Wall, from Gaul to Nepal with the Gurkha
To Tibet with the Sherpa, the Magi of Persia, are researchers
In search of the Silver Surfer blitzkrieg berserker
From the Circa Inertia, an interpreter of glyphs
In a submersible ship, a circular disc with vertical lift
Serviceable with, gluons from a Ju-On, Unicron neuron, neutron, proton nucleons
Chemical bond graphics and the intergalactic, telepathic Galactus
With neutrino amino acids that turn protein capsids flaccid
Like a sarcophagus with the Sarcosuchus in Lake Placid
A watery grave for your brain waves to bathe its hue gray Cray
As a clay Golem with bones made from columns of stone
Is in the catacombs under Rome, on the cosmic phone
With Kepler cause Tesla wasn’t home, so I left a message at the tone
That I clone my own chromosome genome in a tenseless time zone
A kind of home that I design for my mind to roam when I resign to be alone
And recline on a throne atop a shrine of bones
In my own ubiquitous liquid abyss chrysalis
Liquid spit physicists are the wickedest lyricists, as is the spiritualist
Kali-Rudra versus Ali Buddha during the Kali Yuga
Their recruiter’s a supercomputer producer of Lex Luger rhymes from a Lex Luthor mind
That designs a bizarre verse whose bars thirst for turpentine
To quench this serpentine thirst of mine
When I’m first in line to spit a verse and rhyme
A curse that’s malign like Kline Rubenstein in the Guggenheim with mutagen slime
Who uses a pen to sign, to the Viper, Lou Syfa, set loose, a new type of recluse for hire
On an escape route through a time loop through the Wire
While vampires shoot, reboot, then fire, towards the sky
At the Lord of the Flies, Father of Lies, but martyrs die
So don’t even bother to try, cause I Am Legend, Heaven’s Earthly Son
Who succumbs to Unit 731 just for fun, nuns are stunned
When I declare where I come from, Infinity, the Divinity’s Trinity sum
Ministries administer me to the tongue, but you’re numb to the pun
That’s my thesis, Dionysus and Jesus have an Asmodeus secret in common
With the Brahmin and Tutankhamen, Ammon-Ra in the façade of God from the Upanishads
Prajapati with a Nag Hammadi Light Body, description Ka, his peas in a pod bod
In a fuselage above of a villa, where Jethro Tull’s skull is lulled
By the tiller of the land with Pan’s DNA strand, who commands Poseidon’s flotilla
And the Ice Truck Killer’s strangulations and exsanguinations of blood spillers
From totem pole pillars, victims are separated and cut
After being duct taped up and stuck in a refrigerated truck
With a diagram chart of body parts before I start the abstract art
A ripper of liver and hearts, the rest I give to the sharks
Your limbs and your rims, this is the grim and gritty of Sin City
Where there’s slim pity for a cordon, of 300 Ronin, an Omen that’s portent
To Chester Gordon a.k.a. Dexter Morgan, who sequesters organs
From lesser swordsmen, competitor recordings, this is a metaphor for them
Boredom, so I’m more than Darkly Dreaming, half-heartedly I’m partly screaming
At Home Alone call screening, “What’s the meaning?”
The fear of getting caught, there isn’t even, cause I Am Legion
The Heathen of Eden who believes in the precession of the seasons
For this reason, this evening, high noon will soon be cocooned
By the womb of the Sun, the Moon, as I prune my plumes to the tune of OM Shanti
As Gandhi leads Swamis to impede tsunamis and typhoons
With a festoon of boons, as I zoom over a lagoon
Holding a harpoon and a bent spoon, Roswell wasn’t a weather balloon
But a Vimana powered by Prana, mantras, the Vedanta and the Puranas
Sponsored by Ramchandra in the Hotel Rwanda, where I romper stomp ya
Like the Man-Beast Blanca or the Frankenstein monster
Command and Conquer, then Contra airlift from the airstrip of the Pampa

having read only a portion of it, I'd have to say it looks pretty well structured, with some dope moments: "ghost write post life".

What he said^,you should make a track of this.

damn man pretty impressive

that's whatz up

This is Dope.

Damn that definitely took some time yo,
you should put this in my Rhyme like Canibus Thread,or We should continue here,or start a new thread in the TEXT section

Cudnt read all of it im too high but it does look good and its teh type of stuff i liek to hear using Bis as a lyrical template you can only go right.

its kind of crazy.

Not feelin' the style really, but you definitely have writing skills.



The Rs

Appreciate the feedback. I do plan to make this a track. I got a few original beats that I can use.

http://www.canibus-central.com/forum/index...showtopic=45890

no doubt about it, you definitely have crazy writing skills, however, i took notice to a lot of lines that Canibus has already said that seem to be contorted so as to not be noticed. regardless, keep up the good work. you have a lot of knowledge that you should share with the world. peace

^That is just taking the piss, dude can write

Moving on slowly, I thought that was dope

I wasn't trying to hide anything, hence the direct references to Bis throughout the rhyme and the title of this topic.

Are we in The Text or The Canibus Section Mods where you At?

needs to be resurected.
amazing shit