Twin Convo

#11

Poetry by Youngblood Elixir

This is a conversation between two sides of the mind,

Most times connected like broadband,

Sometimes siloed off yelling through tin cans.

Yo, the algorithm is fucked,

Wake up,

What happened?

You slept on the ruck.

We were hiking?

Yeah, we were going up.

Speaking of rising up, wonder about her twins cup?

Man, get your head out of the gutter,

We can’t spend all day dogging it on the butter?

Spin that utter up the back so it will be ready when she flutters.

Yeah, that’s true alright let’s get something to eat,

But we helping the poor now yo, got to remain cheap

Isn’t it ironic how so much is unaffordable when life is torroidial

Hemmoroidial cause we bleeding when we shit in the black hole toilet bowl.

Speaking of taking and bleeding.

We got test by two females with similar names,

Yeah, one appreciated the character, put it on display, the other tried to use it up then murder for fame.

That’s a trip with the latter but sometimes you trip up the ladder.

Such is life when trying to help cleaving narcissists,

They change from day to day but end up back at square one,

Chameleon Ouraboros Alchemists.

Trying to shoot our defenses when they not centered nor this level rhyme chain,

Use force against them, Wing Chun mind games.

It’s all fast food wars between Raising Cane and Chik Fil A Christian games.

Alright, enough of the Soap Box and the cheesy drama like that show Soap.

Try to cope with nope and know that your life is dope.

Meta is better than ortho but we still like cheese, preferably feta.

But how do we merge the spiritual with political?

I don’t know, they both involve ritual.

But I want a megahorn and shout “Ho!”

I want to support “Power to the People,” like a pick in an Angela Davis fro.

Maybe we’ll grab a mike and shout “Ho, Ho,”

Maybe we’ll get a stage and perform Divine Comedy,

Maybe we’ll do Rom Coms while ramming it like Atum Ra while she eats bon bons.

Your not getting any younger homie,

True but at least I’m not phony,

When I’m bony I’ll still do my prerogative while loving on Tender Ronis.

Will she still make you macaroni,

You better believe it, hold up their end while I hold up their ends.

Ah, therein lies the dilemma,

We can hold space for each other, but stars can pass through the inner,

It’s all infinite anyways, that marriage is a mer age (mirage),

I mean how many deaths we got anyways, that’a alot of parting wet seas.

Love for all, charity for none,

Yep, many lifetimes, like Highlander, there can only be one.

You ready to walk down and eat,

Yes, but check out this feat we carried with our feet.

Plant it there and leave it in the mud,

Come back with the sword and remember the flood.

Good work, yeah you too.

Good talk not letting inertia stew.

Hey, you think these thoughts come from someone else?

Yeah, that third unseen master who hovers above and through the shell,

Our ventriliquist we love who commands the cells,

If it wasn’t for him we couldn’t have these convos,

Yeah, he detonated so our flames would shoot up the cosmos.

And don’t forget the water cause we drip through the logos.