Diseased Mind

My mind is diseased.., but occasionally I find it at ease, sometimes I wait patiently just to find it, other times I’m pacing hastily, frantically erasing the rhyme to retrace, the moves it makes evasively.., who’s chasing me, I’m basically in the place to be, in front of a judge to make a plea cause I wouldn’t budge, so f*** your b*** I’m putting my grudge on paper and taking this page to the major leagues.., take a shot at me, knock me off my feet and I’ll just rage while I’m seated, the stage over heated when the featured emcee did donuts around the microphone like a police car on the street did, and he made it so lifelike you could smell the aroma of a donut shop, so much a patrolman stopped, cause he thought that he could eat it.., the opposite of a man with no legs, I’m not to be defeated, right before I was born god greeted me immediately.., to request a meeting with me, so he could speak to me secretly.., he said ‘I’m the father of the sky.., so reach for me’.., the farther and faster I increase the speed, and master the words I weave, the more laughter I can generate thru comedic hyperboles.., which, if you heard of me, I prefer ’em to be worded to be bursting with absurdities.., I rhyme like a nursery, I’m the first to leave a great wave in the wake, I got a stomachache cause I ate, way too much cake, so do me a favor and feed me a pear and some grapes while you’re wearing erotic lace.., I behave the way I do cause I was raised in a chaotic place, I’m way off in space when I’m supposed to focus, but I rhyme at a hypnotic pace like a lotus wrote this driven by a psychic who’s driving so smooth he moves you below hypnosis, a weed rose thru the surface of the soil on a bed of roses and I’m the weed.., growing old in a breeze blowing so cold that time will freeze, I’m an emcee of a different type so raise the hype if you like it, I’m not the type of kid to kick it with a click or a sidekick.., I hop on the beat and ride it till it fades away.., the days are gray but I came to play, the rain may, make it a brain dismay, but if I’m gonna die tomorrow, at least leave me with a pen please, so I can alleviate the pain today..

-BenjiO

Pessimism

I guess I confess to being a pessimist, but when I high step with feet as light as a feather is, I get my knees to my chest so you’re seeing the best at this, the rest are a joke.. but me I’m a specialist, come see an emcee who hits with a metal fist, I peddled this on street corners, with breath bringing heat warmer than the bottom of the kettle is, but the pot is on fire though, I’m toeing the wire, writing the rhyme and folding the flyer, put a little gold on the satire, so it’s a joke you can ad-mire, I’m going to the top of the mountain and rolling back on a flat tire.. I hit the track then fell flat on my back cause I’m that tired, had a napkin left over from lunch and a thin straw, thought I saw a battle I could win, ha! tried to hit god, with a spit wad, did I win? Nah..

-BenjiO

Nine 2 Five

I’m a nine to fiver so I’m barely alive, I’m staring at the water below, but it’s too scary to dive, my partner’s on the other side of the globe, and he dares me to write, pairing my plight to that of those, with unused beautiful wings, but when it comes to the ink I’m doing dutiful things in my lair at night, taking the care to style it right, so if you think I’m too scared to pilot a flight, I’m up in the air like I’m flying a kite.., I’m ready for action like I backed in to the rats den and passed him a piece of cheese and trapped him in a death grip while he begs me to release the squeeze, but I’ll never release or relinquish, if my speech is extinguished and I cease to be a linguist, speaking this freaky english, I’ll proceed with the same consequence of death that a worker bee stings with.., I hit the green like I’m boxing the spring leaves on a tree, it’s a seasonal thing, I take a reasonable swing at a curve ball as it swerves and falls and I hope for connection, when I first started out I wrote for protection from complex lessons learned the hard way causing a hard day of accepting consequences and as soap for cleansing the soul as well as a spiritual substitute for attending confession.., I live in the west end of the states, and spend my days with a pen as it gyrates on the page, and I race thru the maze, while attempting to illustrate why the expression on my face is afraid, all the while hoping that I’m making the grade on the microphone, where the lights shone, like some chrome reflecting the Sun, if I’m lost in my head I’m likely to roam till you get me to one, then I might be at home in a fight on my own to recite the life that I’m writing in stone..

-BenjiO

A Beautiful Nightmare

Something wakes me up, from a deep slumber and leaves a lump in my trachea, a dream where someone’s coming to take me a..way to a fiery place cause they hate me a.. second passes that seems like a minute I’m making a.. bigger deal than it needs to be, it’s just a dream but wait, see uh.. I’m a little nervous the ghost of the underworld has pierced the surface of my psyche, and might see a vulnerability, yes, I believe it’s more than likely.. the night light flickers and goes out, the clock ticks stop and now there’s no doubt, so I close my eyes and try to hold out for a sec, while I’m shivering in a cold sweat, my feet are frozen, the tip of my nose is wet, and my pajama clothes are soaked in sweat.. I’m feeling somewhat loco, my mind spinning around the way that bicycle spokes go, when you’re riding downhill, now I’m feeling ill, and I just heard someone screaming and it sounded shrill.. could it be, this is all my imagination, all for naught that I’m aggravated and my agitation.. the white flag I’m waiving, and I’m going back to sleep, in fact I leap, into the deepest slumber and this time I dream of summer, coming right after spring, a nice dream of bright sunrises, serene scenery and delightful birds that sing..

-BenjiO

The Clock of Insanity..

Indifferent to the outcome, so how come, I feel derranged by the whole range of emotions, and how one can explain the notion, now come take a dip in the ocean of rhymes, I use to drain the sounds out of the background of my mind, back down from the challenge if you’re out of balance.. step back and regain your composure, rein in your exposure to the great roller coaster by the name of colossas if you’re feeling nauseous, sit back, try to relax and gain some closure, be cautious when you’re swimming in water hotter than lava is, back off the relentless pursuit of profit and take the time to work it out, like nautilus, a lot of us are strangers and think that strangers are dangerous so talk to us, we’re bringing passion back into fashion and using words to unlock the lust, lost the keys to my truck, walked to the bus stop and caught the bus, started a fight and they tossed me off cause they said that I brought the fuss.. so with nowhere to go, the faster that time passes amazingly slow, and nothing drives me crazy as much as a clock does, but watching a pot on the stove comes close..

-BenjiO

Living Fans of Hip Hop..

Put pencil to paper and make it impress, make it so hot that they gotta get naked, then watch them undress, make their naked flesh glisten with sweat, just expect when they listen to this, they will be so excited and wet, no strike this, they will get so frightened by my writing they’ll piss in their tighty whities.. yellow stains aren’t created by artists with mellow brains, yellow stains are painted by fellows in pain, but yellow’s plain so make it red hot, the next spot you occupy, talk till the audience dies and rots, and the flies you swat from the corpses morph into living fans of hip hop that stand and give you props..

-BenjiO

Ice Age

When I’m long on confidence, I tend to drop bombs on twits and send rhymes to past times and dimensions thru spiritual conduits, I’m long on wits and short on pretension, I support stress reduction techniques and whatever one needs to release the tension, freeze your attention here as my life pressurizes and the pressure rises, I press a letter to the sky on the counter measures I’ve devised, and to my surprise I found my treasure.. which weighs more? a pound of gold or a pound of feathers, I found myself caught in inclement weather, yelling out loud at a rain cloud to tell it what I think of it, and I ended up standing in a puddle so deep I could sink in it, thinking it’s better to swim, I tried to rewrite the script but grabbed a pen with no ink in it, so I whipped out my bag of tricks, reached in, and eliminated the weak link in it.. a lemon makes, for excellent lemonade, what do you think this is? a penny from the well went missing, I fill the void and expect to see the best when I’m wishing, so I invest in the premonition, but whether it gets bulldozed during the demolition or comes to fruition depends on my professor’s opinion of my pen, and whether or not I can get someone to fund my tuition.. who’s fishing, and who’s just learning to fish? like poisonous ivy I’m cursed with a burning itch to ditch class, sit on my ass, inhale and get lifted, me getting high wasn’t my fault, it was an indiscretion that belongs to the opium, and it was something the dope in the spliff did, I grew up a rich kid but morphed into a pauper, enslaved in a nine to five I’ve had more manic mondays than Cindi Lauper, with one life to live I’m living in an opera just trying not to drop the soap, took a misstep in quicksand and got lucky when my flailing hands waived around and caught the rope, I tied a knot with hope and succeeded in climbing to a higher attention, taking advantage of the miracle I took the time to focus my intentions on bringing to the microphone my lyrical inventions, with a satirical sense of humor that isn’t meant to be funny, cause eight days a week when I was a kid I was sent to bed with an empty tummy, more empty than my wallet is cause I spent all my money, so call it in the air and flip a gold coin or a quarter, I’ll hit you in the groin, get a grip on it, and hop on the highway headed for the border, and in order to catch me you’ll have to make me lay in a grave, cause you couldn’t pay me enough bucks to make me behave, and any attempt to break me is met with violent defiance like flicking spit wads at tigers and trying to pet lions, the weirdest local in SoCal I’m no pal of tyrants as I defy the common theories of social science.. you couldn’t mirror me if you were my twin brother lost at birth, my heart is frosted worse than being naked in an ice age with nothing else to do but wander the earth..

-BenjiO

Pen-itentiary

I was a youngen not too long ago, now I’m grown and these rhymes come in long and slow, I’m on the go, not to mention the end of the rope, here’s another attempt to put together a hustle that’s not dependent on dope, once upon a time I was dependent on smoke, now I depend on the pen, when I enter the pen they say surrender your friend, ‘nope’! cause on a mental note, I have an invisible pencil that floats when I speak, like a dead conductor’s baton that’s a ghost on the beat, someone’s heating the bread cause when the head of the table stands up from his seat, the toast is for me.. we’re supposed to be free, but we isn’t, take a minute to visit lost souls who’ve taken liberty to the limits, and sentenced to dwell a century, in a lonely cell inside of Hell’s penitentiary, where their only friend will be a pen with never ending ink, and I’ll be penning the link to another dimension while painting the grains of the quicksand when they sink.. I’ll never pretend to be a person that I’m not, or pretend that I’m not tip toeing a tight rope with every step that I walk, I’ll never pretend that I’m not addicted to the hop.. or to the hip, every moment I live the more that it slips, I stole half a second from the clock then bartered with it and traded back the toc for the tic..

-BenjiO

Journey to Saturn’s Rings..

I decide to use these words to describe what I think cause they provide me with wings, climbing the rocky side of the road, I break stride for a peculiar piece of metal and I tie it to a string, as I slide into the valley of the shadow of death to collide with this life’s titans and kings, a key is tied to a kite and it brings, bright ideas, the sky’s wide eyes see us, which is why I write all speeches at night when the lightning strikes, despite that my rhymes cry from frightening sights, burrowing into my mind just like mites, I sit in the mist amidst the flickering lights, to sift thru the fits and bickering fights, internal conflicts and sickening plights, while the tips of my thumb and index.. split from my fist, and stick to the grip of my pen like a tightening vice.. committed to scribble my life till the thunder subsides, or the threads of time unwind, a man, stubborn and unwise taking a deep breath and rubbing my eyes, they open at the foot of a tremendous struggle, upended by a landslide and buried up under the rubble and then my trouble just doubled in size.. on the night stand, the right hand of the clock stands still, I’m barefoot, standing on an ant hill and still the sun hides behind the horizon, the thrill of the night is spun to the side, my slumber’s demise has begun, as I let out a cumbersome sigh, and I rise like price spikes when product is under supplied, but under the skies is where I reside just roaming the street, alone and I speak, from a nomadic home beneath my feet, the horizon lightens about the time I arrive at the driver’s seat to fit in the key, and the tires like teeth, ripping thru raw meat, gripping the concrete, as I get up to speed on a terribly perilous street that’s icy as sleet.. the sunrise is surprisingly sweet, and provides a lifeline when I’m about to die of exhaustion from riding the city’s beat, the pressure no lesser than trying to impress a picky professor or live up to your pedigree, I better be never be cowering, instead I’m devouring the kitchen’s heat with a verbal addiction, the verbs and adjectives swirl into a work of nonfiction more complex than long division, to create a song inflicted with sick diction like sinus infection, and the rhyme is designed with the finest intentions, to capture a moment of time spent, if you’re trying to find out where the time went you can find it defined in the fine print.. then the letters, somehow, come together like addition, to smooth out the additional friction, that lies in between, the lines, and hides in disguise like halloween.. now, it’s by any means that I find a way to get high enough to divide the sky at the seams, taking a ride up past Jack and his magic beans.. then something inside me inspires me, to try for higher dreams, and takes my imagination on a ride up to Saturn’s Rings..

-BenjiO

The Word Cage’s Mission Statement:

The mission of this blog is simply to provide a venue in which to post and discuss original spoken word pieces and poetic works of art. My hope is that this blog will create an opportunity for spoken word artists and fans to come together in an online forum and community to give support and constructive criticism to one another. I will be posting a lot of my own work but I also welcome those who want to email me with their pieces to do so and I will post them here to be viewed by this blog’s readers.