The modern prehistorics

What you is isn't what you are
Your faith isn't what you believe...
like a heretic....
Your size isn't how you look
like a model.....
Your words defy your lips
like Benedict Arnold......
Your originality is an imitation
like a photocopy..
For eager skeletons,
who are anxious to clap
their bones together
for a modern savior
in this prehistoric age..


We are the modern prehistorics

I feel like im in kindergarten

My eyes feel like i just challenged the sun to a staring contest... Therefore this will be brief

My family came into the illadelph this weekend...
We did the following:
Ate cheesesteaks
Loved on each other
Went to the star war exhibit
Ate cheesesteaks
Loved on each other
Went swimming
Sanded and stained my backdoor
Saw Ben Franklins grave
Toured Besty Ross's house
Loved on each other

I really miss my mom right now and she only left an hour ago...

On the chalkboard of my heart.....

Scribbled over and over again on the chalkboard of my heart is the word simplicity..
As the dusty eraser lays on my rib cage the deep smears of chalk sink deep into the foam and reminds me that these syllables repeat over again like a re-run of Seinfeld...
First as a whisper, that stifles slowly as it only scratches the surface
Then in a still voice that traces over the faint whispers of yesterday..
The inflection infects my bones and gives way to words that echo in and out of my hollowed bones..
The syllables send shivers that travel up to where my vulnerable heart clings to security like a tree without roots during a gail...

If life was a math equation it would look a little something like this...

simplicity + patience * faith / trials + tribluations - perseverance = contentment

"let us live simply so that others may simply live"...

Vinylsaurous Rex never was extinct.....

I'm going to recap Saturday like a marksman without an aim....

I went out Friday with Babak, Cobby and "The Miller" to a silly lounge/bar playing ridiculous music for ridiculous individuals.. however the company was dope and the dance floor once again was annihilated, destroyed, decayed, and thus reduced to rubble.... I may not always have my whole mind wrapped around truth... life has a funny way of teaching me things that I thought I had already known, making new lessons out of old scenarios.. With this being said, i don't ever question myself, my brother, or my friends ability to walk into an establishment that has sound vibrating from a speaker and having the uncanny ability to conquer the dance floor like Columbus or Magellan...
So i woke up and went record shopping and got some sick records including but not limited to:

David Bowie (diamond dogs)
The doors(greatest hits),
Rolling Stones (sticky fingers),
Al Greens (greatest hits),
New Edition (self titled),
Dance remix single of Easy Lover by Philip Bailey and Phil Collins,
Doobie Brothers (greatest hits),
Temptation's (greatest hits)
And the piece de resistance a compilation with some of the dopest funk soul songs and Black Betty by Ram Jam....

Going record shopping always mellows me out, i love the smell of moldy cardboard and the thrill of searching through piles of deceased vinyl.. its kind of like walking around and old cemetery and admiring the names and the epitaphs and wondering what will be on your own, or looking at old black and white photographs of people smiling and wondering what pushed that sweet smile on their cheeks... Anyways my record collection is getting stronger like Kayne West.. which means one thing...
dun.. dun.... dunnnnnnn

Vinylsaurous Rex is coming back from extinction.....

Ohh the hiphopera of it all.. I'm Addicted to heart doodles like colleges kids on ramen noodles

Mic check one two.....
I'm Addicted to heart doodles like colleges kids on ramen noodles
Its so crucial, I feel like a baboon that's been bamboozled,
I need a dose of medicine, so i can feel the real like Braille lettering,
cause i cant see n its all irrelevant,senses still pop like I'm suckin on peppermint
As i read through these words,
I'm chocked by adverbs,
and stuck on similes that are absurd
but attack in flocks n herds.
Like the shites and the Kurds
Feelings get crushed, when words get rushed,
then skin gets touched, leaving hearts in a bunch
An under attack, like an itch you can scratch.
Till you can tell the fiction from the fact
get the Harlem shakes like u fiend on crack
So funny that, fiend rhymes with friend
and I can't comprehend, were one ends and the other begins
While feelings creep in, like TLC over again like sin.

Somedays i just feel like spraying syllables like a tommy gun on these duns.......