yesterday’s rhyme:

atop our stop the hip hop hoop scoop is bangin, we slangin, flow freely like speed psychology, love spin kynestography, buy hoops or stop by and crop sandwiches of metaphors, slip record and tell em more, speak, spin, be free, bmore.\

and then early this morning:

the english language has done damage to the pantomime family-time, simple grind like shakespeare, grind like burning spear, grind off hemisphere, decapitated.  this shit has made us, degraded us, thrown us in trash cans, ash fans, assholes and beer brands, whip shakes and snakes with bricks, gypsies in ovens mean clean living for dozens even though it really happened you europeans are laughing in psychotic kitchens with grip iron extensions of racist sensations, dripping, ripping out your lungs, wishing you could say nigger, tell a story, let it simmer, put it into the bigger picture, say the word fuck to explain why it is not appropriate to say fuck.  but its these three trees that choose the frail the call of meaning, the reasoning comes from circles and doves, fuck your white gloves, the hopi shit on your stove, cook fake meat metaphor and i will take you to the store unclip the tape on the lobsters in the lobster tank, and dip your head in.