Mud

Don’t move
And you will not sink into the quicksand
Water plus dirt equals mud

Me and Shovel
Digging in the crates
In the back yard making outdoor mix tapes
Just like a picnic sitting on the ground
Digging fat meals which simmer in the sound
Though you can’t just think of this
If I took a fist in your stomach
Or a lunge punch to the ribs
Dibs on that which you want
Or put too much salt and pepper
On the food in the vault that you entered
Gourmet combination
The story that I’m an ancient puzzle piece of the sacred jigsaw
Beheading all big heads with antique donkey jaws
Riding on a mule with a saddle bag of rhymes
In a canyon with a canteen on my waste
My plan was see the place
That I was yet to go
I bet this bro falls in the mud
And waterfalls of suds
In the empty box of tide
Building adobe huts
Out of blocks of rhymes
As sharp as a Flowbee cuts

(Shovel Head)
Knuckle bloodied
Kamallie I call thee Godzilla
Fulfill the art of a saurus
A porous
Prosperous Rasta janitor
A murderous manhandler
Humbled homeless skullheaded shovel
We dug dig out on the double
From under the Persian rug into a pitfall
Searching pharmaceutical halls
And medicine cabinet
An addict pursuing the cures for the uncommon potholes
In the grass
Forcing a halt to the shaman’s head cold
Seeping through the nostrils
Being that we were so hostile
We asked for directions
For the treasure map
My pleasure map contained a trap door
Beneath the wood floor
Mistaken for the Parkay buttered
We muttered on our way to the park place
A picnic basket
And a head case
Suited in the fast paced lane kidnapped
Mission to signal to an exit on the off ramp
We knap sacked
Slumber bag creates a camp
It’s harsh
A fire roasted bellowed voice in the serenity of the surrounding marsh

The smell was harsh
But the sight was worse
Trying to fight this thirst
Dying to light this first lantern of kerosene
The sterile beam of sanitized laser dust
Hypnotize those learning to bust or trust
Walk behind and in front’a
Rewind your life to plecentia
Instrument and a banjo on my knee
Comin’ around a mountain of clay pots
Breaking
Dancing
On a potter’s wheel at work
Shifting potters
As I teeter totter
On the pulse of a dying robot
Oh I forgot