THE OPEN MIC CYPHER

[Eŋg]

serpent-entwined rod means my health is twisted,
nervous to find God is simply well-prescriptive
and I’d sell the physic to feel the welts I’ve lived with,
where you keep your wallet? see how wealth is shifted,
gold is melted; gilded, to assure that Hell revisits,
twist it up, burn it out until the cells is lifted,
sense just isn’t: when intellect intercepts the instinct,
to re-invent the instant with the pen’s sufficient,
pendragon, pencil pissant, pent passion, penny wishing,
fuck that/. Always found the construct wavers,
the con is ancient, constant fakers, conscious slavers,
congregating, like cellular organisms conjugating,
can’t just say shit without the conch in they grip.
rip apart the same script: think fast.
in class. scratching a free-write
to rifle past the halls & walls
that stifled since I was knee-high,
with fluent influence to screen life
through the lead edge…I pledge,
until free of wanting to be free, like;
the blind man does not lament a sight for sore eyes,
if mindless, would you think to fight, for your life?
it’s alright,
I ain’t making efforts to be a pessimist
– press your wrist, listen to the rhythm,
the treble, the depth of the devil, to feel what your level is.