This Night Amok

God, I’m not sure of you existence -
But won’t call you out your name as insurance
But in case you are there and I’m not aware -
I won’t blaspheme -
I’m Ballbeam, the Big Sauce Handsome hand grenade Rob
The Ishmael Reed of MC’s - so far out - that my writings
Enticing to June Tyson -
My real is surreal when I cobra cuddle
No recoil clutch a microphone - meet the new Ted Joans
Been that -
Will be that -
Stay that -
Abstract - use my head for more than a hat rack
Tryin to reach my cloud -
Taking the stairs I’m above it -
Lord of everything my light touches - Mr. NightFall
Mr. Wack never that always forever extratalest -
W/ that drop dead fresh
It’s when I close my eyes ‘til I rise - no 9 to 5 -
My burdens I’m too fly - I belong in the sky -
My drip add water you DROWN you flood w/ the ferocity of a
Leaky faucet
Savagely speaking - if I’m wrong, then who’s right?
Creatively lawless - the God you can touch w/ text
Slay then raise from the grave in 3 days
I’m Jesus - my hot rod is a T-Rex
Preying on minds fatalistic artillery articulate
Words vivid - like staring out a windowsill
To these flavorless - bland as water
Room temperature tepids -
Y’all got yellow teeth and rock waves
Cause you spent more time brushing the wrong shit -
I can’t ride that wave - so much for priorities
A crowbar dislodged your soul from your body -
Each tic of the clock has become your foe -
I’ll admit, though - that you’ve got gusto in your pursuit
Of failed ambition - y’all fell off like Tumblr -
After the porn restrictions -
I’M FROM NEW YORK WHERE THEY SPREAD LOVE LIKE BEDBUGS
To a mind swaddled in squalor -
Tryin to explain the concept of time to a toddler -
Time, a measure of duration linear -
This is the termination of your linear duration -
Laid in waste your dreams in debris -
Vivid in 3D - when I’m feeling indecisive -
I tie a chain around a rapper’s neck -
Tie the other end around a pole -
Then drive as fast as I can go -
Throw the decapitated head into the air -
Yell heads or tails -
Somehow, it always lands on heads, I suppose -
You a whimper trying to whisper futile in the ear
Of a brazen blaze - don’t burn
Sweeter than plum wine you bitch macho benign
Washed up - you a wash cloth
The passenger pigeon who flew into a fan -
He’s duck sauce
I’M FROM NEW YORK WHERE THEY SPREAD LOVE LIKE BED BUGS
Santa going out of business because of abortion -
That type of bullshit -
Santa doesn’t exist
You twit -
Roses are red -
Smurfs are blue -
They ran out of glitter glue and can’t shine like you
Failed miracle -
Trust exercise distressed trauma
In a Costco
Soggy urine stained thong -
A dead shark for a bong -
A tea kettle makes better songs -
Gloatingly as that
Shitbag Zimmerman signing autographs on a pack
Of Skittles despicable -
Mike Vick as Dr. Doolittle -
Happy Negro -
Shackled by zeros -
To do the bidding of status quo
Even if I play quiet on tippy toes
Everywhere I go -
An apocalypse follows -
Slipped into the beat like a kimono
I’M FROM NEW YORK WHERE THEY SPREAD LOVE LIKE BED BUGS
Abused crews in a theme park of pain
Measured in mass put-weight on the name -
I radiate my own sun -
Foraging graves to raise a calvary -
This Night Amok
No clemency -
It means nothing to me -
To shit on MC’s -
Over crowds - I’m a circus performer
On the trapeze -
W/ diarrhea