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SWEET​-​-​>good​-​-​>GODDAMN

from Can't Wait 4 The 80's To Be Over Again by Tread

/

lyrics

sweet good goddamn, fracture my ankle and backbones if ya can,

I just wanna be a rapper til I land, and continue with the cosmic poetry,

the hopeless woe-is-me or whatever it be, you're listening to the philoso-rapper,

placed in category by dewey decimal designation after, cus first the words

have to glide on the winds and the currents like a bird trying to find a place

to drop a crapper whilst it's wings keep flappin', an essential example of multitasking,

am I asking too much when I ask you whatsup? am I asking too much when I ask you whatsup?

not like you or I would know, what's above the weather and the solar system and the cosmic light show,

so bright, too bright, too luminescent to look straight at tho, eyes might burn and explode,

or become fizzle fried flesh that sits dormant and erodes, yet all heard and all told,

aren't we doing alright? learning to fight the fight, good or bad don't matter in the same way

it's still day somewhere on the globe even at night, half encompassed darkness and half reflecting light

from that tiny little star at the center of all our lives,

-

getting lost in conformity,

getting lost in your cunieform eternity,

-

you can't practice penance like you mean it just

standing all ambivalent at the church entrance

and seeming to beam the entirety of your guilt to the screen,

televangelist teen magazine baggin' these kids

with a dime-bag full of benzedrine,

pretending it's the human thing to do to stay up all night

just to see the sunrise and please the mind behind them tired eyes,

truly, they will sleep when they're dead, nothing but the dirt, insects,

and plants breaking straight into their head where there thoughts once were,

life and death speeding past in retrospect til in esssence this existence

is nothing but a blur, sounds, vibrations, and the whirr of laptops never capped off

with a closed top, then the beat drops like it never started falling,

climbing down a mountain just cus gravity was calling from the base-camp

at the bottom of phenomenon's seen crawling to the awning at the peak-door to the sky,

nice to meet you, I'm a really weird guy

-

getting lost in conformity,

getting lost in your cunieform eternity,


-

how paltry was the hurt, and how dirty was the dirt

when the world started coming apart with little work

on the part of the deconstruction workers,

the postmodern sherpas leading us to our mouse cursors

lost in the top left-hand corner of the screen,

emerging from the phantasmagoric LED,

the same place where fake news manufactures fake majorities

in the name of racial purity through a new law being decreed,

it's the Old World Order declaring there are no curved corners

on this earth because it's flat! Exactly like the map

we've mistaken it for, North America at center,

while Eurasia's torn and displayed, as if the edge

of the world resided on the outskirts of the Chinese

city of Altay, we strike the middle of the landmass,

no masks, just tasks to be ticked off with a check-mark,

scribbled in a dark arc cus my printing is such a damned mess,

and yes, I'm Petrarch, launching an era whenever I read just to see

what the damned book says, my words are the pez, and my mouth the dispenser,

I'm a craft for plastic candy with an array of complex senses...

credits

from Can't Wait 4 The 80's To Be Over Again, released January 26, 2019

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Tread Powell River, British Columbia

Cosmic poetry in infinite motion until we realize there is no end, after which he keeps on rhyming
--**--ethereal
oddball
rap--**--

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