Bless all.
Not some. Not most.
All.

vapor one eternal

  • was i an ass?

    By Alcides G. on January 7, 2015

    I was an arrogant ass. Everything I spit was real shit. It was good shit, but shit nonetheless. The waste product of depleted nutrition-carriers. I never got to see the dinner table, but boasted about being in its presence. Dancing between smart ass and jack ass, I discovered that I was a wack ass. As I finally woke up to being a real ass, I prayed to be relieved of my duties as I resisted speaking.

    Eventually, I heard an echo saying, “What the hell are you doing that for?” I opened my eyes to a pitch-black chamber. I was confused. I took a step back and felt a breath of fresh air. I took a few more steps back and could breath even clearer.

    I kept walking back to the direction whence I came and could finally see the light. It turns out that I wasn’t an ass after all. I just had my head in my ass.

  • pledge

    By Alcides G. on January 6, 2015

    I hereby make another pledge. I pledge to not share any new written rhymes I conjure up until I have recorded them with music and have collected at minimum 12 full songs. I invest no energy into producing these songs except what is available within my leisurely moments between duties. As a result, I hope that my words travel far and touch the souls of wanderers as I have been touched by humility and love. And I have faith that the echoes will live on in crystal clear explosions of love and harmonized rhythms of peace and balance. Yes.

  • like me

    By Alcides G. on January 5, 2015

    no one right like me
    they try to rite like me
    but can’t even write like me
    let alone shed that light like me
    they try to fight like me
    but can’t grip that fist tight like me
    can’t mix that black and that white like me
    they wanna soar heights like me
    but can’t maintain their sites like me
    blinded by True sights like me
    hope they kick it and collect they minds like me
    lest they collapse from great mights like me
    they glitter rocks that got mold and don’t shine like me.
    they plated with gold and don’t price like me
    i don’t shake and don’t fold, they ain’t trifed like me
    they ain’t used to the types like me
    ain’t seen no one change up lives like me
    axe about me. who shake them dice like me?
    who spin them winter fairy tales that end nice like me?
    who got nothin’ to hide from they wife like me?
    who spit that serial Truth with no Lies like me?
    who got that dragon-skinned apron that can’t be tried like me?
    who was born the very night they died like me?
    who run they own math with no cosines like me?
    who run they own Math with no cosigns like me?
    who run through dark paths with no fright like me?
    who can kick it to the gas and stop at dimes like me?
    even in prose they can’t keep in line like me
    divided by infinity, they still ain’t fine like me.
    in the end, they all love me even if they don’t quite like me.

  • misguided hate

    By Alcides G. on December 27, 2014

    So i’m back here chilin’, stray track killin’.
    J-cats catch that lay back dental fill-in.
    Like spraycans on a late snack clicka clacka.
    Rip a wrappa like winter jackets in nuclear reactors.
    Street actors keep your distance. You chasin’ riches.
    I’m makin’ calculated moves to make a difference.
    Hashtagged teens. I can’t breathe!
    And I ain’t screamin’, “Fuck the Law.” So they lash at me.
    Meanwhile, they jazz that beef.
    Discrediting every movement that makes progress by smashing things.
    Yeah. I backtrack links.
    You fake, piggy-back, claim the fame, capitalize on the same shit you despise. Take a good look in my eyes.
    You ain’t nothin’ but jive, counterfeit keep-it-live, 100 percent nonsense. Phased out tryin’ to spark shit.
    I’m bein’ honest. You ain’t buildin’? So whatcha doin’?
    Complainin’ about changes around you, but how was it when you flew in?
    You gutter rocks spinnin’ sputter talk.
    Bangin’ like butter blocks wrapped in cotton socks.
    On an open fire with chestnuts and such.
    I keep my nose clean while yours runnin’ rubber snot.
    Wait until the bubble pop. Even they kill another cop.
    That don’t make the trouble stop.
    Had a crisis in ’08. Wait until another drop.
    Oh. Right. Obama helped with what?
    Fake. Fake. Fake. Act like you know!
    Quit spinnin’ your fairy winter flows like you on some hydro.
    Stay Fresh bananas, but you stale like moldy three week-old tuna fish salad.
    Quick to destroy. You lack patience to build.
    Ain’t even got a plan for after the blood’s spilled.
    Get real.