وليل كموج البحر أرخى سدوله..
علي بأمواج الحنين ليبتلي..
فقلت له لما تمطى بصلبه..
واردف اعجازا وناء بكلكل:
الا يا ايها الليل الطويل الا انجلي.
Music isnt but cacophonic sounds that carry the prayers too heavy for us to admit aloud,
The vulnerabilities that we hate to face that we constantly think about,
Like...
-Aint no sunshine when she's gone-
Huh, Aint no shit when she's gone,
She, the rythym,
And the ryhme,
The Conviction,
The haunting guilt,
The resenting prayer,
And the crime,
The vibration,
and the tone,
And the thought that conquers when you're alone...
She bares the complications of speech and the terms of language within her ground...
She...
a pronoun..
A preposition
And a noun,
The hidden images between the lines that are hard to be found,
The little secrets of the universe that makes the planets turn,
And fire burn,
And our minds concerned,
مهفهفة بيضاء غير مفاضة
ترائبها مصقولة كالسنجنجل
And I'm her necklace, as close to her heart as i can be, reflecting her happiness of my face shining as the stars.
She is my sky, my universe and beyond.
She's a melody that inspires the sun to wake up every morning to cast light upon this waste land..
Fuck that..
She is the sun..
And the sun is not really the sun..
The sun is just the moon that only reflects a fragment of what she represents..
And the moon is nothing but an irrelevant stone that got caught in the midst of all of this..
تضئ الظلام بالعشاء كانها
منارة ممسى راهب متبتل
And I'm the priest at her temple
She is a goddess, making me pray to her to keep her in my life to worship
She is a goddess, making me sacrifice my words at her alter, making my soul commit suicide every night so i can sleep peacefully by her side.
And she's even more,
And I can't spill ink on paper tryna trace the features of her memory without my papers getting stained and my ink running short,
And nothing I aim for describes the wrecked up train I get aboard when I think of her,
So it's kinda absurd,
To follow our tails around tryna get there...
So..
This poem is not about her..
None of my poems are about her..
All of my poems are about my incapability to write..
But I can help but to write..
Like a dark knight on the darkest night, I write..
Set the lines and take charge..
This pen has been my nobel stead on the front lines, I'm in charge..
مكر..
مفر..
مقبل..
مدبر..
كجلمود صخر حطه السيل من عل..
Like it's war, I'm pulling the hackamore..
Or maybe the steering wheel of a fast car..
Or even a bike with some handlebars..
I handle bars..
Like a mean prison guard, I handle bars..
Like Eminem on rap god, I handle bars..
BARTENDER,
Pour me some of that lyrical ink,
Cause these needles in my head they're starting to sting,
And it stinks,
This shortage of words drains me dry
فدع عنـك لـومي فـإن اللـوم إغـراء
وداونــي بـالتي كـانت هـي الـداء
فان كنت لاتستطيع دفع منيتي
فدعني ابادرها بما ملكت يدي
Allow me to die on the paper making my rivers of blood dye pictures of the battles of my thoughts and my pad.
How i handle bars
Walking proud with my battle scars
How i dissolve foes to evolve and transform into a revolv-er..
Roll down these ballistics..
Put down these unrealistic misfits in a coma..
I'm grown ma..
Watch as I flip this ancient school flows to futuristic..
I faced the ugly truth without no make up or lipstick..
I brought my wounds to the dark side and rib apart the stitches..
The child's play is over..
Bartender,
Fill up my glass,
And I'll pour it down on history,
My palms are sweanty,
Knees weak,
But my steps are steady,
Towards victory,
I carry the league
Of the greatest,
امرؤ القيس، malcom x, and Mohammed Ali,
Move like a butterfly, and sting like a bee,
Words are my stingers,
Shooting grenades of trigger fingers
I'm dressed in my armor,
My thoughts loaded and harbored,
I'm faded,
My ryhmes integrated,
So pour it down, concentraded,
Let me stay this way,
Unrated,
Maintain my spot on my ground,
My esteem may be low but fuck, I'm hella proud,
These looks of awe wont make me grow,
These finger snaps make me snap,
But praise the loud, my prayers are loud,
venting, resenting, detesting the crowd,
I walk alone,
Those times are gone,
Where you unsheath them swords,
So I barricade my metaphors,
And I sharpen my words,
Bartender..
Overdose me on that blasphemy so I can blast my rhapsodies and let them linger..
It's like..
I'm volcanic eruptions..
Demonic deceptions..
I'm an Armageddon meant for personal functions..
I'm the fucked up version of pulp fiction..
Fuck son..
It's a cold world..
And I'm hulk mode with an ozzie that weighs a ton..
But I ain't angry this though..
Bartender
Serve me a shot of that lyrical vitamin
Open my third eye to the power of Suleiman
Grant my mind the gift of speech
Make my soul talk to the ancient kings as they call out for me
Pouring my rhymes into a bottomless hourglass
How the time expands as i drink from the knowledge glass
Placing stars in place as i guide tribes
Forming galaxies and black holes
Colliding dimensions, sending gravity waves at your dome
Pulling your conscious close as you listen to the creator of your world
Bartender partake in this mixture of flavours call it a demonic cocktail, a devil's pie or fucking lucifer's birthday cake..
I made mistakes..
I had my share of being fake..
So this is not for Satan's nor God's sake..
This is for getting wasted fuck a mental state..
This is for the sour taste of being great..
So in the name of this liquor..
Watch these lines get thicker..
Get sicker..
For this tongue will no longer hesitate..
Bartender,
Hand me the fucking bottle,
Pour me one for the road and two for the battle,
You think your bar's unholy,
So I'd take it wholly,
The Creator's complex,
The writer's block,
And the bartender's curse,
Your counter's my alter,
This bar's my church,
spit bars when I mumble,
I handle bars as I walk,
This table is temble,
I'm the tibet monk of singing along,
The catholic priest of doing wrong,
This mental image made me a priglimage,
But I'll stop before I end...
Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,
Then pour me a glass to drag me to my senses,
I go further than I should,
and I aim better than I shoot,
So judge me by means and not the way act,
I'm blasphemous, but I blame it on the words, in fact,
My poems are intact,
But sometimes I lose contact,
To whatever's in my head,
So Bartender,
Bring another bottle,
Instead of eyeing me with dread.
Bartender..
You see a bottle..
I see the dwarf in the flask from full metal alchimest coming outta of it..
I see why life exists..
I see me taking risks..
I see the blooming bliss..
Of me not giving a shit..
You see glass..
I see revealed reflected reflections revolving around crucified cross sections..
I see names and questions that should not be mentioned..
You see a liquid flows to cup, I see a river's flow leading my road to redemption..
BARTENDER
Call the owner, this is a hostile takeover
Releasing ether bars,
Time passed,
We dressed in black with white clovers
Rewind that and bring in the yellow tape
A lyrical homicide is in place
I sting like a bee
Like I'm a killer with a face of a ghost
In the impediment of your worst nightmares
I'm the werewolf on silver bullets
I'm Jupiter with Zeus's spirit
Screw your mental limit
I'm reason of your writer's block
I'm your fear of failure with every tick tock
I'm the vampire's pope
Twisting your hope and Evans faith
Say my name three times and I'll appear
Talking to your chaotic conscious
Carving holy hieroglyph on the walls of your dreams
Shining upon your road of redemption and and sins
Im the mob, the king, the god
And you are a damn believer
So believe in greatness
Shining from the heart of a warrior
ملأنا البحر حتى ضاق بنا
ونحن البحر نملؤه سفينا
With endless flows and metaphors i'm repeating history
Standing in the middle of the battlefield declaring victory
ولقد ذكرتك والرماح نواهل مني
وبيض الهند تقطر من دمي
ووددت تقبيل السيوف لأنها
لمعت كبارق ثغرك المتبسم،
So pour me my latest sip and maintain your spot,
These battlefields conflict with this peace of mind the constant thought of her inflicts in me,
My thoughts shift in these..
Lands..
Filled with these.. blood red sands..
And unmarked graves..
And war slaves..
To a place.. where the red in sand turn to roses..
And I lose focus..
And I don't mind in my mind to slit my veins in vain..
If you would notice..
The effect you have on my mental state
How i walk like I'm under hypnosis when i think of your face
Your grace I'm nothing but warrior but I'm aiming higher
I know i bring you disgrace but..
Who wouldn't desire being a sire..
Who wouldn't desire being lifted up higher..
Who wouldn't desire being inspired..
Still..
This poem is not about her.
علي بأمواج الحنين ليبتلي..
فقلت له لما تمطى بصلبه..
واردف اعجازا وناء بكلكل:
الا يا ايها الليل الطويل الا انجلي.
Music isnt but cacophonic sounds that carry the prayers too heavy for us to admit aloud,
The vulnerabilities that we hate to face that we constantly think about,
Like...
-Aint no sunshine when she's gone-
Huh, Aint no shit when she's gone,
She, the rythym,
And the ryhme,
The Conviction,
The haunting guilt,
The resenting prayer,
And the crime,
The vibration,
and the tone,
And the thought that conquers when you're alone...
She bares the complications of speech and the terms of language within her ground...
She...
a pronoun..
A preposition
And a noun,
The hidden images between the lines that are hard to be found,
The little secrets of the universe that makes the planets turn,
And fire burn,
And our minds concerned,
مهفهفة بيضاء غير مفاضة
ترائبها مصقولة كالسنجنجل
And I'm her necklace, as close to her heart as i can be, reflecting her happiness of my face shining as the stars.
She is my sky, my universe and beyond.
She's a melody that inspires the sun to wake up every morning to cast light upon this waste land..
Fuck that..
She is the sun..
And the sun is not really the sun..
The sun is just the moon that only reflects a fragment of what she represents..
And the moon is nothing but an irrelevant stone that got caught in the midst of all of this..
تضئ الظلام بالعشاء كانها
منارة ممسى راهب متبتل
And I'm the priest at her temple
She is a goddess, making me pray to her to keep her in my life to worship
She is a goddess, making me sacrifice my words at her alter, making my soul commit suicide every night so i can sleep peacefully by her side.
And she's even more,
And I can't spill ink on paper tryna trace the features of her memory without my papers getting stained and my ink running short,
And nothing I aim for describes the wrecked up train I get aboard when I think of her,
So it's kinda absurd,
To follow our tails around tryna get there...
So..
This poem is not about her..
None of my poems are about her..
All of my poems are about my incapability to write..
But I can help but to write..
Like a dark knight on the darkest night, I write..
Set the lines and take charge..
This pen has been my nobel stead on the front lines, I'm in charge..
مكر..
مفر..
مقبل..
مدبر..
كجلمود صخر حطه السيل من عل..
Like it's war, I'm pulling the hackamore..
Or maybe the steering wheel of a fast car..
Or even a bike with some handlebars..
I handle bars..
Like a mean prison guard, I handle bars..
Like Eminem on rap god, I handle bars..
BARTENDER,
Pour me some of that lyrical ink,
Cause these needles in my head they're starting to sting,
And it stinks,
This shortage of words drains me dry
فدع عنـك لـومي فـإن اللـوم إغـراء
وداونــي بـالتي كـانت هـي الـداء
فان كنت لاتستطيع دفع منيتي
فدعني ابادرها بما ملكت يدي
Allow me to die on the paper making my rivers of blood dye pictures of the battles of my thoughts and my pad.
How i handle bars
Walking proud with my battle scars
How i dissolve foes to evolve and transform into a revolv-er..
Roll down these ballistics..
Put down these unrealistic misfits in a coma..
I'm grown ma..
Watch as I flip this ancient school flows to futuristic..
I faced the ugly truth without no make up or lipstick..
I brought my wounds to the dark side and rib apart the stitches..
The child's play is over..
Bartender,
Fill up my glass,
And I'll pour it down on history,
My palms are sweanty,
Knees weak,
But my steps are steady,
Towards victory,
I carry the league
Of the greatest,
امرؤ القيس، malcom x, and Mohammed Ali,
Move like a butterfly, and sting like a bee,
Words are my stingers,
Shooting grenades of trigger fingers
I'm dressed in my armor,
My thoughts loaded and harbored,
I'm faded,
My ryhmes integrated,
So pour it down, concentraded,
Let me stay this way,
Unrated,
Maintain my spot on my ground,
My esteem may be low but fuck, I'm hella proud,
These looks of awe wont make me grow,
These finger snaps make me snap,
But praise the loud, my prayers are loud,
venting, resenting, detesting the crowd,
I walk alone,
Those times are gone,
Where you unsheath them swords,
So I barricade my metaphors,
And I sharpen my words,
Bartender..
Overdose me on that blasphemy so I can blast my rhapsodies and let them linger..
It's like..
I'm volcanic eruptions..
Demonic deceptions..
I'm an Armageddon meant for personal functions..
I'm the fucked up version of pulp fiction..
Fuck son..
It's a cold world..
And I'm hulk mode with an ozzie that weighs a ton..
But I ain't angry this though..
Bartender
Serve me a shot of that lyrical vitamin
Open my third eye to the power of Suleiman
Grant my mind the gift of speech
Make my soul talk to the ancient kings as they call out for me
Pouring my rhymes into a bottomless hourglass
How the time expands as i drink from the knowledge glass
Placing stars in place as i guide tribes
Forming galaxies and black holes
Colliding dimensions, sending gravity waves at your dome
Pulling your conscious close as you listen to the creator of your world
Bartender partake in this mixture of flavours call it a demonic cocktail, a devil's pie or fucking lucifer's birthday cake..
I made mistakes..
I had my share of being fake..
So this is not for Satan's nor God's sake..
This is for getting wasted fuck a mental state..
This is for the sour taste of being great..
So in the name of this liquor..
Watch these lines get thicker..
Get sicker..
For this tongue will no longer hesitate..
Bartender,
Hand me the fucking bottle,
Pour me one for the road and two for the battle,
You think your bar's unholy,
So I'd take it wholly,
The Creator's complex,
The writer's block,
And the bartender's curse,
Your counter's my alter,
This bar's my church,
spit bars when I mumble,
I handle bars as I walk,
This table is temble,
I'm the tibet monk of singing along,
The catholic priest of doing wrong,
This mental image made me a priglimage,
But I'll stop before I end...
Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,
Then pour me a glass to drag me to my senses,
I go further than I should,
and I aim better than I shoot,
So judge me by means and not the way act,
I'm blasphemous, but I blame it on the words, in fact,
My poems are intact,
But sometimes I lose contact,
To whatever's in my head,
So Bartender,
Bring another bottle,
Instead of eyeing me with dread.
Bartender..
You see a bottle..
I see the dwarf in the flask from full metal alchimest coming outta of it..
I see why life exists..
I see me taking risks..
I see the blooming bliss..
Of me not giving a shit..
You see glass..
I see revealed reflected reflections revolving around crucified cross sections..
I see names and questions that should not be mentioned..
You see a liquid flows to cup, I see a river's flow leading my road to redemption..
BARTENDER
Call the owner, this is a hostile takeover
Releasing ether bars,
Time passed,
We dressed in black with white clovers
Rewind that and bring in the yellow tape
A lyrical homicide is in place
I sting like a bee
Like I'm a killer with a face of a ghost
In the impediment of your worst nightmares
I'm the werewolf on silver bullets
I'm Jupiter with Zeus's spirit
Screw your mental limit
I'm reason of your writer's block
I'm your fear of failure with every tick tock
I'm the vampire's pope
Twisting your hope and Evans faith
Say my name three times and I'll appear
Talking to your chaotic conscious
Carving holy hieroglyph on the walls of your dreams
Shining upon your road of redemption and and sins
Im the mob, the king, the god
And you are a damn believer
So believe in greatness
Shining from the heart of a warrior
ملأنا البحر حتى ضاق بنا
ونحن البحر نملؤه سفينا
With endless flows and metaphors i'm repeating history
Standing in the middle of the battlefield declaring victory
ولقد ذكرتك والرماح نواهل مني
وبيض الهند تقطر من دمي
ووددت تقبيل السيوف لأنها
لمعت كبارق ثغرك المتبسم،
So pour me my latest sip and maintain your spot,
These battlefields conflict with this peace of mind the constant thought of her inflicts in me,
My thoughts shift in these..
Lands..
Filled with these.. blood red sands..
And unmarked graves..
And war slaves..
To a place.. where the red in sand turn to roses..
And I lose focus..
And I don't mind in my mind to slit my veins in vain..
If you would notice..
The effect you have on my mental state
How i walk like I'm under hypnosis when i think of your face
Your grace I'm nothing but warrior but I'm aiming higher
I know i bring you disgrace but..
Who wouldn't desire being a sire..
Who wouldn't desire being lifted up higher..
Who wouldn't desire being inspired..
Still..
This poem is not about her.
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