sent pieces of my broken heart as postcards to strangers…
‘followed my heart, it never stopped igniting…
sent pieces of my broken heart as postcards to strangers…’
Prolyphic is one of those lost in the storm rabid and climbing the tower of Babel modern discourse,
who when reminded of,
when his voice and poetry and honesty and heart and soul all combine to flow…
I am instantly in awe and inspired.
For whilst he leans deeply into cynicism,
his spirit remains alive and pounding towards confronting real issues,
waves of the SUPERMOON reaching far beyond the shoreline…
which so few others pour their zeal into,
with no gaps to find for posturing>>>
And when the platform of beats and hooks and loops enliven,
He ups the ante and remains pure, raw, sure…
I can relate to everything Prolyphic releases from his essence,
which encourages as much as worries,
for I cannot feel comfort if I am offering as a wicked gift to ANYONE,
to send them this track,
which as I haphazardly dance my fingertips across these keys,
I dont need to wonder of the meaning,
its not my prancing in words which needs long pondering,
its lighting strikes of honest as the forest flash floods of human horrified and wild roar poet…
Only one will feel the same,
My Lilith.
‘words of a simpleton living in oblivion’…
This pulse,
throng,
storm brewing,
clouds forming,
sky darkening,
then THUNDER BOOMING…shaking EVERYTHING ALIVE EARTH AND AIR….
these poets are pagan evolution,
a niche of primal bards still breathing in this mega maelstrom of triple vapid virtual ink spilling in every direction, every second, of every day and night,
for the Machine has no circadian rhythm,
it has been designed to blind, deafen , frog march the many into HERD…
The prime sources of INFORMATION come from algorithms and billion$$$ corporations.
I am trapped in between two Ways.
Accept the Machine and blindness if not more awful betrayal of natural primal howl it demands.
Or…
Take my love for butterflies and finding myself in the ocean,
the tides flowing through and within me,
calm marvel abounding…
as my message back to the Land,
combined with a resilience to bare fangs and fight,
beat my sensitivity away from the soulless and confined to the butterflies and ocean.
I could have turned to more wise, pleasant rhymes and beats,
temptation trounced by the beastly unthinking spirit,
the full moon approaches,
under Her gaze even on the land,
She encourages the feral, reminds the essence within of the wilderness within and without.
‘the only thing that causes me FEAR is not trying’….
And then I Self Divine draws it all together,
love, fight, honesty, wicked rhymes>>>
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