...For Lovers and Thinkers

Love&Apocalypse

2011-11-27T14:06:00.000-08:00

You washed

upon a dazzling beach at noon

with diamonds in your eyebrows

and glittering coral

hanging from your hair

sweeping the sands of time from your waist

Your hands and breast alike

are as cups filled

with a nurturing ambrosious of wisdom

that founts forth

from within your loins

Your voice is the hushed sound

of cosmic knowledge

wearied from its travel

through your channel

Your presence is an awesome

and ever startling event

even to the eyes of the souls

of strangers and laymen

A Vision

as the Rainbow

chaining Canyons

adjacented between the River

hidden beneath a fog

Beautiful as Love

and Apocalypse

Native to my spirit

Fascination in flowering form

2011-10-13T22:10:00.000-07:00

Who Will Hear

2011-07-07T11:44:00.000-07:00

The rivers and the ocean will claim his skin clean as their own.

The mountain will whisper the story of his broken heart to the clouds,

And the sun will pity the sky, and she will cry tears for him.

And, in the morning the dandelions and lilacs will awaken with the dew pure of his youth sweeping their brow into the soil.

The dirt will smile for each footprint it keeps, and each footprint it counts until lift off and he's flew from it.

The wind will whistle his song as it did into his ear even before he’d heard it first.

The animals will gossip of his courage, and edify him as a beautiful fool with whom they've with, and learned from, and each star his eye’s met will witness to the animals testimony.

The moon will keep his secrets, and soften pale the path of his lurking lusts, lest his fellowmen follow.

And of these, none will have spared his soul to burn with love.

For with man there is non to share as he would with his woman.

The Price of Freedom

2011-07-05T14:05:00.000-07:00

Fresh Out

2011-06-19T12:02:00.000-07:00

From desk to desk, top bunk and cot to low bed under new fan.

I return no less, yet only that much more a man, I am.

I love and loved, my heart a public pulley.

I’ve pushed and shoved, been victim, perhaps. Been bully.

I cringed and cried in silence, and aloud I sang “Forgiveness please!”

Bled, punctured from the ethers trident. Bowed, and counted my sinless deeds.

I questioned “Why now!? So close, so far! Can I not reach out to call?”

Yet for no answer, I clenched my open scars, as pain rendered me to my knees to crawl.

The message that I have received, would seem on time if t’were not late.

She sings to me, and sad I grieve, to see her beauty strong, and soft, and slate.

My affection, and my service I gave her time and time on end.

I pity me then. How worthless, I bade her mine, and pined and primed.

And though my Ruby has returned, her sorrow grips me still.

Yet for my duty, pray I earn tomorrow’s lips be frill.

Yes, from my Ruby, nay I’ll turn. Tomorrow’s lips be frill.

Last Continuance

2011-06-17T06:30:00.001-07:00

Morningtime. Showtime. Powdered make-up and all.

The protagonists smile and stand tall.

Everyone is me, and I them too.

The ones on the insid, and the ones calling names,

those with paid tongues, but most don't,

and I only wanna stand out to the old man between the flags.

Let him see my tie and suede loafers

As if they matttered.

'shoulda never gave you niggas money'...and I heard'em say...

A child still smiles.

Perhaps her laugh will frost us with grace.

Innocence is scarce in this place.

He opens up and talks choices. Reimbursements. Sensitivity for the English.

Check the money, Hail the queens income.

Rescuing from down under

Holding my receipt in case of defeat,

sitting sweet at my seat.

The learned of the law are left meek

for Here,

no absolution is complete.

The Bittersweet Wedding Singer

2011-04-09T21:46:00.000-07:00

Long ride home. The coast is soaked from the rainfall that ended the celebrating and the working. Congratulations are hurried along before water damages stack up too high. They left it all on the dancefloor in their dresses and suits. Its always a good time. When you're at work it looks like it before and after you've put on a uniform. But perhaps no one noticed the floor had been swept. Perhaps they did. The miller light spin the soultrain bottle had to at least. Through the face and the beard it must be hard to hear a beautiful melisma over a dance ballad. Woes and so whats aren't worth any bread though. If there was a party goin on, it was missed by six craftsman making their offerings up. Eyes of stars gleaming in mine say 'well done'. Then they were heard, and the answers came down. Down and down until the lights in the sky went out. The dream is become premoniton, but the dreamer is yet awake. Under my song may the union be blessed.

Squizzle: Compilation Download

2011-01-09T19:39:00.000-08:00

...A gifted vocalist once rendered within the opening phrases of a simple song lyric all that I wish you to do here...

"Lead me on...if you want.

Take my heart and my love.

Take of me all that you want."

...This is only, and all that I ask of you. You Lovers. You Thinkers. You drifters of no particular interest, and finders of very particular pleasures. May my youth and experience find you where ever you may drift and greet you with wisdom. And may may wisdoms craftsmanship nurture whatever pleasures you may enjoy.

I greet you once again with Melody, with Harmony, with Rhythm, with Rhyme, and with Rhetoric. My Stories Are True, and If you would but Listen, I'll Share them with You.

Here's one. It's called...

DOWNLOAD IT FOR FREE HERE:

http://rapidshare.com/files/441736169/Myk_lHanna_sSquizzle.zip

1. Spell It Out (Intro)

2. I Can't Wait Until Tomorrow Comes! feat. Sound Syndicate

3. Foru2

4. Song Die

5. The Time Is Now

6. Relentless

7. Forever Stay

8. On Our Knees (Benediction)

!Please Note!

The hosting site from where the download originates will make the file unavailable if it doesn't sustain a certain level of activity. So if you attempt to download this and have problems, please leave a comment here or on my facebook page so that I'll know to refresh the download asap. Thank You and Enjoy! P7.

Longest July

2010-07-29T13:52:00.000-07:00

Empty arms hold a world

defined by memories and explored

inside of a dreamplace.

There,

where vanity answers no valiant question

but family yet holds,

inspiring moments grow wings.

Also,

it will fly past along side them

if Love is not King and Keyring.

For this fare

guilt is an aftertaste.

However savored

the clench and chew

is only, was only

shallow.

The summer

and with the sea

have taught me this.

In spurts it sprays;

misting its forgiveness in fragrance.

The lofts

of Discipline and Faith

hold my charge

Steady at the helm

beneath a high moon

headed home.

What It'll Do

2010-07-27T17:00:00.000-07:00

Looking for letters. First names. Because writing is too sacred for sinful hands. A moments redemption cost more than a moments attention.

So he’s talking now. Because I’ve nothing to say, And silence won’t suffice.

Words themselves die on ice, and breathe fire. So I cover my mouth when I caugh.

Poets are prisoners. Their cells the wide walls of Babylon blank and deep. Their lives are prayers heard only inside dreams keep. And they find solace in the journey to and from sleep.

A world within a few cubic feet, and all but no release. Water for wellness. Quarters for brand coffee, and whiskey to pay the devils toll. Prideful and assumptive. Lost in control.

Story teller story teller, ain’t you got no role to play? Ain’t you got no hole to lay? I’ll take it! And he stole the day. Smoothe into the dirt, like a mole in clay.

Pay no mind, ‘less my pockets get to jingle a little bit, or find and cue the cumbersome to tickle your pickle dick. So funky sweet how the fabricated air skeets on ya face. It can be arranged, this kind of meet and greet. And the keyboard doesn’t even have buttons to delete. But when it’s all over, better hold on to that receipt.

One said love is for those that believe in it. Yet what of those in which love believes? Hunts and tracks down sure as it breathes. Steals without warning with its band of honorable thieves. Thrives in the lives of the trees and the green leaves. Needs not permission to move. Claims any and everyone it shall so chose. Even those with woes, and who owes of the blues. It catches them toos.

Corners will shrink to fit the ego of man.

His world will break as he’s allowed his spirit to be. His Earth will forsake him as he did her.

The MasterTeacher does not offer pardon for the vengeful. It is not available to the disobedient.

Hear yourself. Heal yourself through humility.

Yet time is an illusion, and my watch a prism.

Find me lose me. Sweep me keep me.

Suai & Moscatel

2010-07-20T16:03:00.000-07:00

Sweet ferment ravish

Tongue lavish that turns the lights off

Then I go down

All the way

to the switchboard to turn them back on

Careful though, for how long

Mole over the left, right?

That night

sitting in a glimpse of the moon

I was her first

Lips as grapes, I remember the taste

We sat

Black and white we'd face

All a distant fragrant memory

reliving itself in a dream

Hair sprawled out beneath me

Long brown lashes beseech me

to do the same

Lioness be tame

I know your name

Set my loins aflame but

never shall I proclaim

as others have of your fame

Nor you of mine

But hold I in your mind forever

As was my destiny

to give to you

Which mystery shall be solved

before my heart has resolved?

Yet another beauty

for my eyes to fall for

that makes my wrist

crawl on all fours

She with dark and light in spite

or her who's seen me since then

and steals me at night

when my sight is set

on seeing more than wrong or right?

Bent, knelt down

and delivered to her

as I did on her first

Sweetness to greet my thirst, or worse

My, what's written

and yet lies on lines

Basting as I'm tasting

such damn good wine

In Love With and Without You: Scene

2010-07-13T15:16:00.000-07:00

“Didn’t I say I was tired of looking up and seeing that you’d written some song or poem or piece about me? It’s getting old Michael.”

“You did. And yea, I know. But so…what? Because you asked nicely I’m supposed to stop being inspired by you??”

“ (lol) YES!!”

“(heh)…guess that’d make it a whole lot easier…for YOU huh?”

“Well it sure wouldn’t hurt!”

“(lol) It’d hurt me! I’ve tried,… To actively NOT think or write or sketch about you. I’ve managed a good deal of success with that too! It definitely helped me to open my creative mind back up to the world outside of romantic love and what that can inspire and bring out of me.”

“…and that’s exactly what I’d love to see you do more of! Sure a girl loves to be the subject of a song two, but I don’t wanna see you waisting your talent on me….Not that the stuff you’ve written about me is a waiste :) …But your perspective needs to be articulated on everything you can! Not just love.”

“I know. I know. And I’m working on it. Promise. ‘workin on it!’ (lol)”

“Plus, you’re gonna look up and be real sad when you finally realize it’s over, and you’ve done all this stuff about one person that you’re not even with. One person? ONE subject!? C’mon! what kind of resume will that read like? You wanna be well rounded so that the love pieces will stand out!”

“(lol) Why do I feel like this is all a ploy to ensure that the stuff I’ve done on you will remain the greatest of it’s kind? What are you REALLY up to huh??”

“Heh…Me?!? YOU’RE the Master Manipulator remember!? (lol)”

“….You know I hate that shit.”

“I know. That’s why I said it. Besides, I’m still not quite over you lying to me for the better part of a year. I really did feel like you completely mind fucked me man. Like, it’s all still pretty sick that you were even able to do that. Let alone to me, the one you claimed to love oh so much. Love doesn’t do what you’ve done. And don’t bring up all the shit I’ve done. None of that justifies your lies. I was always honest with you. However ugly the truth was, at least you got it up front. Wish I could say the same for you..wha…Why are you smiling!?!?”

“….Cause…You’re really cute when you get to monologing about how shitty a guy I am. Especially when I already know all that you’re gonna say. You get yourself worked up so easily. It’s the cutest thing.”

“….I’m serious Michael!...”

“Wha!?...No seriously, you think I don’t know?? Why do you think I went outta my way to try and come clean!? It doesn’t feel good knowing how deep I went with it all. And frankly…I’m still dealing. Today.”

“Why? I forgave you didn’t I?? …Let it go. You shouldn’t walk around with that on your spirit.”

“But I do.”

“Well don’t. I mean, move on man! Go date! Swoon! Get laid! Write about it! You’re free! No strings. No…girl hundreds of miles away to feel obligated to call or be faithful, but not really, to. You’ve got a lot of good going for you. Go enjoy yourself!”

“You think I haven’t been doing all those things?? I have. I told you. I was actively moving on, and it was working well enough….But you don’t just wake up one day and DECIDE you’re ‘over’ someone. There is no such thing as falling out of love. Not if it’s true! …..There’s BEING in love, and then there’s KNOWING you’re in love. And neither of those necessarily require the participation of two people! Which is why all those guys from back in the day wrote about unrequited love, cause they ass was in love alone!....S’gotta be a sad state of affairs. I mean, I can’t really identify with that tho…”

“ heh. Oh really!??”

“Drop it! Just cause you wish you didn’t love me doesn’t make saying you don’t any less false.”

“Sure I love you Michael. I’ll always love you. Just like I’ll always love David, and Marcell, and-”

“-Fuck them, and fuck that. Don’t even give me that shit. You know what I mean.”

“(lol) For all you know I could be in a committed relationship, and you’re sittin’ real high thinkin’ you know somethin’ about what I’M feeling.”

“Well…Are you?....In a relationship I mean?”

“Hmph…never know.”

“See!? THAT’S the shit I’m talkin about! Cause even if you are, you’re still here with me eating this up. ‘Oh he’s so pathetic! Why won’t he just get over it! I wonder what he’ll say next…”

“What if I just enjoyed flirting, eh? Wasn’t it you who always told me flirting can be sooo innocent?”

“…Yea ok. You got it.”

“Michael, listen. I’ve told you, I forgave you. Really. It hurts sometimes when I think of what could’ve been and all we did to mess that up…well, well mostly what you did….but it’s cool. I’m cool. And you’ll be too. I’ve said it and I’ll say it again. I have no intention of being with you again.”

“…Well, what ‘you’ are you talking about, cuz…ya know I’m a different me than I was even just twenty minutes ago, ya know?? I mean, Neo wasn’t the one till the END of the movie when he could see the numbers in the air n’ shit?....JESUS didn’t even start telling people he was Christ till his ministry, and that didn’t begin till he was like thirty som’n!.....Not trying to liken myself to Jesus or some futuristic digital world war savior, but, I mean…you know what I’m saying (lol)….What if it IS you, and if it IS me, it’s just that our time hasn’t come yet?”

“….That’s kind of far-fetched, don’t you think?”

“Not really…”

“Hmph……Peace Michael. Take care of yourself.”

“….Pray for me!?”

“God can hear you just fine.”

“Does that mean you won’t pray for me??”

“No.”

“….(then what does she mean!??...)”

Pride Before the Fall: Short Story to Preface the Scene

2010-07-13T15:10:00.000-07:00

…The waking moments that greet our young LoverThinker on this day remain full. Of the recollecting of the dreams he’s just returned from. The Boat and the sea on all sides where his little sister vacationed with a cad. The Gotham skylight window of a top floor hotel room, where he and his father fired round after round at floating perpetrators fleeing the wrath of the righteous. The Forest pathways that hid the desperation of his thievery. Yet in a minutes worth of blinking and bathing in the breath of a new day, all that captivated him were the words that he could not yet discern to have really been a mistake to have typed during that select conversation the day before.

He could not have known, nor did he expect that she would be available to chat when he and his companion made their somewhat religious trip to the internet café up the hill and around the corner. On the walk his thoughts wandered. Would they make it to the beach again soon? For the sun was high and hot that day and he could feel his skin under the sweat browning yet. Going on a tour of the cedars riding ATV’s seemed like the most appropriate thrill to spend some cash on, but how could he convince his pretty patron of that much when her spirits were leaking in limbo? Her beauty accounts only for so much, but it sure helped days go by faster. Casual conversation continued in spite of his ambitions, and soon screens saw them sit.

Typing, he found out not long ago, felt like playing the piano, and so he enjoyed signing on and logging into the various sites where his fingers had championed user names and passwords. He jingled his digital keys not before fiddling them in his hands knowing which door each opened. Gmail. Facebook. Twitter. Blogger. YouTube. Who’d be there? Maybe someone would have replied to a message or wall posting, or commented on one of his videos, or the drawing of the girl and the flag. Most often there was none of these. Realizing and expecting this much, he spent a second being sad about it, and then reminded himself that he enjoyed being the most underrated over dog, and commenced to log in.

Gmail. Username: MyklHanna. Password: *********. Inbox: Jennifer(me) unread!? STOP! HAULT! PAUSE! DISINGAGE! SIGN OUT! His sunken stomach found its way out of his cargo shorts, and once his vision came back into focus and feeling came back into his fingers a chuckle filled the chamber of his mouth, and rolled off his tongue. What could she possibly have to say?! Why would she send him a message after all that was said in the last!? Was he really that surprised that she emailed him still!? Was he already overreacting to what was probably nothing close to being as serious as he was making it!? Then the chuckle returned. Suddenly he felt like a pale faced Keanu Reeves sitting on the olive seats in the desert of the real while the black man’s booming voice spoke humorous revelations too simple not to understand.

Twitter. Username: MyklHanna. Password: ********. “Fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony.” Tweet. Sign Out. He inhaled deep and quiet, and continued his log in rituals. But after retrieving what information he needed elsewhere, he returned to the inbox where the unread unexpected message awaited his reply.

And reply he did. Swiftly, and punctually, addressing each concern and query she posed to him there. There was a poignant tone in both of their texts. Very practical. And yet he’d read into what wasn’t said. Her words and requests in and of themselves spoke that she still thought fondly of him, or had some need of his help, urgent or otherwise. That this was proof that even if only a tear drop in a vile or a flasks worth of experimental data, there was a longing that existed somewhere in her being for him. And this much made him smile. But of course he could not afford to indulge in such foolish assumptions or over analyzations any longer than the time his face had already stolen. Yet no sooner did he send what he believed to be the perfect reply did moments later she’d appear like the lyric from his song still ripe in the air from being composed not two days past. His cargo shorts weren’t interested in company at that time, so his stomach just fizzed a little. Neither did his eyes nor his fingers wait for his mind to make some cold insensitive judgment call, and without delay double clicked her username next to the green circle indicating she was signed into her account as he was.

He began the dialogue in disbelief, asking if she was indeed available to chat, anticipating her signing off without reply, or in fact stating that she was not interested in a conversation with him. But it seemed she was. These anxieties did not have but a moment to fester before her small talk took him over.

They typed back and forth about the content of the email she’d just received from him, and she told him of her new musical explorations and those that assisted her. The banter slowly became more friendly and a might bit flirtatious as they inquired about and suggested attractive counterparts for each other. Yet as sex entered the dialect, he found himself apologizing for excessive questioning, as she searched, looking for more telling responses. Tipping on tightropes no lies were told, yet how much truth was revealed neither of them could truly feel. But that this was felt was the truth unspoken. The yet lingering mistrust and disgust she felt for him salivated the guilt that arose on the same tongue he skewered her with. The same hungry tongue that hadn’t yet tasted redemption.

Before he was rushed off the computer and out of the café back around the corner and down the hill, what found him is the same that woke with him today. The same that sat with him and poured into a fanciful scene he’d illustrate of he and her. One that he could picture as vividly as the green circle next to her username on yesterday. Perhaps this was his opportunity to reenact what he wished would’ve happened, or what he thought he should’ve said before he left their dialogue. Before he’d realized that the conversation became his testimony that he’d realized she’d said nothing in response to. No interruptive exclamations. No affirmations or even any comments of disdain; just a farewell. An empty and ever interpretive goodbye that cued the playback of his heart vomit.

“Don’t kid yourself for a moment…I’m still very much in love with, and without you.”

How pathetically poetic he typed these words without thinking, showing himself in a way which was of course already supremely visible. How recklessly romantic he lowered his shield to the swing of his own sword. How cheaply chivalrous was the accuracy in his profession. A prince and a pauper all in the same.

Forgetting whatever words that followed before her farewell, likely in a similar fashion as the ones that haunted him home, he found his focus enough to enjoy a meal and the laughter and good company of his beautiful companion. He dismissed her from his thoughts, and felt encouraged to continue on as if to have passed through a revolving door maybe too long before exited through to the other side. Although she’d find him in all the same places, he’d gotten accustomed to telling himself he allowed her to. And so that evening it wasn’t as difficult to sleep as one would think it’d be for our heart stricken LoverThinker. But when he woke up on today…

Holiday

2010-07-04T14:34:00.000-07:00

"American Woman! Stay away from me! American Woman! Mama let me be!"

Next Day the Same

2010-06-29T05:28:00.001-07:00

These are strange but familiar walls.

Invite me in after I've been cordial & proper in my introductions.

I enter to feel the comfort from the color that falls on me. Changing

as if in a mood ring wrapped around me. Tight on my reach.

I take off running down hallways.

Pausing to notice my pace,

and then picking it up where I left it at the door where I entered.

Did I rush to proceed is not the question I ask myself.

I thought it patience that allowed me passage.

Yet just as politely, I'd press on,

with no payment.

As follows the path of the nomad wordsong painter.

Perhaps forgiven as a pirate on pillage

but I never found the booty.

So I slumbered, hailed

God, and set sail

into the afternoon soon.

The parades & drums are for the bride

not the groom.

First A Man

2010-06-25T10:37:00.000-07:00

Thumbnail to the farthest outreach of little finger. Lefty. Hefty.

Under Sunlight exposing them all.

In fours counted them over in threes.

Scent of the seas on the breeze, and I know each of their funk by name.

Counted them in 2's.

Counted as their eyes mounted.

But I am not the pope, nor his successor.

Crowned in dreams bridged to dreams of Me 1 of 3. My tree.

Seed needs fertile soils and untilted fields to grow.

Till then I was there to plow and shovel snow,

and now here I sow the message.

Aim for their necks, sides backs.

"Peace on her back lain."

Do you to the front intimidate by brown skin alone?

Seven mile and Livernois in your pupils glare fire?

Silent insanity on deck in case they don't get it. You don't forget it.

Sorted out in strong words on long lines,

but what when times bring them at you like scenes you've studied? Here alone?

There's the throne. They will charge. On gaurd soldier stay there.

Don't expect they will play fair.

Swifter, I am. Stick shifter, am used to driving

since 15, 14 watching.

Lessons in life upon me now,

drips from my brow the confusion and immediate confrontation of culture unknown.

But not that much.

Counted them each in 4's & 3's. Seven I sees.

Aim for their knees. Move. Point to prove.

Precious life. I can't lose.

But I am not the rope nor the bull caught in the lasso.

Right over strong arm still.

Wrist gleam, mug mean. Charm set to kill.

But she is not mine, and days yet weeks left undefined.

Portraits of power in mind,

Father help this inclined young anxious soul to know his role.

Protected I'd appear to have been keeping who?

For I am not a dope, & my position cannot be neglected, nor suggested.

"I Can't Wait Until Tomorrow Comes!": Song & Story

2010-04-20T13:48:00.000-07:00

We’d been playing Spice Street for about a month. When we first started we played every Thursday and Friday. This was my first steady gig, and I was on the set with cats who’d been dealing with this music much more intimately. That’s how it felt anyways. Every night I was tryna keep up. Even after we’d gotten a solid repoirtoire together, and I knew what I was doing a little bit, the rush of anxiety from just missing that turn around, or almost nailing that lyric kept me hungry. It was like finding and chasing a brand new high, and I never wanted to run out of supply.

She was coming into town Friday morning of that holiday weekend. I wanted her to be there when I sang it with the band. The day after I wrote it, I played and sang it to her in the Chicago afternoon sunlight of my humble Hyde Park apartment. She rescued me then, and so I fumbled through on the keyboard trying to give her an idea of what I heard in my head, but it was still too fresh. She loved it. I didn’t do it justice. So I got excited to perform for her. Make up for some missed effort. I wrote out a chart for the band and planned to save it for her for Friday.

Maybe management knew I had to stay true to the lyric. Early that week we’d been moved to Wednesdays and Thursdays. Instead of music while you’d dine, they had a belly dancer. She told me she took a class at the YMCA or something. I think her name was Amy.

Discouraged as I was that she’d miss it, I was determined to deliver it to her, in spirit at least and or somehow. I handed each of the guys a chart, and the rest is on youtube. My own song and it felt like I was writing it in the performance. There was a brief discussion of form and feel before we played but that was all dealt with on the inside. Each of us all listening singing reading playing losing finding our way back. Rewarded with the claps from the few girls that sat in front of us, not knowing we were blind to them, seeing only the music. Me seeing only her.

‘…here every Wednesday and Thursday from 6:30 to 9:30, and we’re gonna be working in some new tunes for y’all real soon.’ I said after introducing the band. Not realizing I hadn’t introduced the song.

History preserved courtesy of JC’s iphone. He sent me the raw audio, and I forwarded it to her email before she came. I wonder what she thinks of it now…

Txt2Squizzle

2010-04-15T21:47:00.000-07:00

...i close my eyes an see you in that sun dress from labor day. You walk into my fantasy big hoops danglin from your ears, sun touched brown bare shoulders, purple pump strut over to me with sex in your stare. Vortex sux us to nowhere but here and the air takes my hands up your legs, big hands grasp perk cheeks, no panties. You knew what you were doing, too late for me to pull back from heart pace increase. Lift. Slip. Fingers by squizzle just to slide across my upper lip. Wiff. Lick. Left arm strong pull you into my kisses. Your neck screams misses and forget me not wishes. Lips feel the distance close in an instance. Passion grimaces from behind us. so far beyond and above it we climb till time calls me to take you, make you mine. Enter park bench, bar stool drool, library silent steal you in the philosophy stacks. Pelvis and pussy slaps from the back. Shes talking to me now. Crowds gaze and ears amaze at the music made. Soulful moanin' on the radio plays in the maze of our scenic love songs. You be the keys and strings and snares and I'll be any player you dare. The microphones there, and waiting for you to share your directors commentary. Keep the climax a secret, ill tell you when it comes...but you'll knw. Makers Mark the imagination. She told me "baby, sip slow" and so...

Purple Pumps

2010-03-22T19:11:00.000-07:00

Where others stumbled, she's stood.

When others stuttered, she spoke fullness to the mission.

Every scene is her runway to take off from expectation of failure.

She is truth child of the tribe, sharing with them the profit from the pains and gains of the people. Her people. Your people. Our People.

With peace power in her heart, she is a reluctant fighter, but a brilliant and bold warrior when battle befalls.

Her arrival hails the departure of evil, and she is always leaving to land.

The glare of Earth in its eternity is in her stare.

Her eyes are like a pure poison of passion and promise, peering into your souls intent.

She is heaven bent on bringing out from that which love bored, and poured down into me, and You!

In this whole world, she is woman, girl, prophet, pearl,

sitting and fitting into the palm of the divine.

The flats of her feet are firm with fertility.

Each nail and toe separate and sow the soil beneath and between her every half step scaling up the strength of her stems. Squizzle her scarlet petals dew drop color down the thornless vines. The winds that sweep around the cosmic bends of time whisk stardust through her hair, and on the breathe of her every word.

Something like a fallenangelshepheard, or a masterteacherpartner.

She wields a prowess in her purpose unmatched by her opponents.

Her love is strong enough to tear books into, yet fragile and fair,

like the inhale of coast mountain air.

She dares to conduct introductions between the real, the mind, and the sublime.

And in her kiss lies the healing of a world lost then reassured with faith and constellation.

She is a pioneer.

She is a rebel and a rougue.

She is a symbol. She is iconic.

She is my heroine.

Rated Ex

2010-03-12T12:19:00.000-08:00

DISCLAIMER:this is a freestyle typewritten composition to 9th Wonders "Alright".Listen while reading For Fuller Artistic Experience, and Appreciation. P7

...tell ya what I'll say. pray. everyday. And watch how investmesments pay. Catch the opportunity to bless the day, and find the trash to throw the stress away. Cuz I'm blessed to say, that a niggas doin alright....

All night I sit up toss turn, burn the memories of her presence in my living room just weeks before. Picking at the scabs and secretes and sores, plotting in a vengence to go and meet the whore, choke her out, and deplete the whore. How could you eat before me, the King, only your love and priviledge in my presence should you bring!!

And yet the phoneix sings, draggin and lagging the rhythm of its swing across times, and mines where diamonds melt in fire. The flames following the squire's choir under the flap of his wings. Praises, and phrases come out at the will of the God, a nigga sickenin' like him jetta sticking as if he was whippin a horse, and then again if he was whippin' a porsche, either way it's all articulated so that you can get it of course!

And I'ma spit it some more, while my nigga splittin the rillo down, and I'm type-writing the lyrcs as if decoding digits off the motherboard of the hood. Bull City steps, trace my footprints down Fayettville, the stains say my name still, visual from the plane while you looking out the window thinking 'damn I'm glad I came, cuz I prolly wouldn't have seen if I'd sat in the same, seat in my apartment or up under the same rain. peace Royalty remains. King.

Peace Queen, I greet you with no apologies. Life's gone on as it should, but everywhere the lights don't shine in my mind, I can feel you on the other side saying Peace King. I'm yours, why haven't you seen it, And why haven't the rivers of my eyes, and them that flow between your thighs, seen my love mirroring their pain and beauty in the skies! Suprised, to see a niggas still loquacious? That's what happened with what you left behind, So Spacious. And yes, the way she did me was oh so tasteless, but I'm looking at the body of my burdens and it's faceless, And my desires for you can never replace this, so I'm inspired to rebel out and replace it, I won't take this. But I will take

my soul to the water, and continue loving this creature that I've embraced as our daughter, who every day grows in ways I'm only beginning to comprehend. Calls that you'll never know about go out, but now I'm on the non receiving end. 'Fates it, seems, is not without a sense of irony.' Late, the dreamer hasn't returned since spring brought its break

Love hardpressed in my stomach to the core, thinking I need the heat to protect the crib, welcoming weapons in as if I'm in a rush to Live, legally whippin now, so my current address depends, on which demon I'm outrunning, or man I'm on way to becoming, or wherever that pretty brown eyed muse of lova lives.

So to her, and the pursuit of happiness, against the snakes, and broken rakes in yards far from being cleared of those that need to leave. Don't spend a dime, I'll want a penny more atleast. Watch. Time for Change.

I AM.HE.SO IS.SHE

2010-02-18T10:41:00.000-08:00

I dine
with You and my desire for justice in Your name
I sleep
With wholes of Your absence from my bed, and from my dreams
You are
here in my transcription tool
Yet not
On the lips of the prophets of this time
Plenty here
for us fallen angels
Yet were You not there
Looking down as I descended?
Missing
as I do now, as the world does now?
Texts have not
mirrored You but behind me
While I know
You are beside my stride
Between the swing of eight
and the things of great
Anger and Passion tenses my face
for You
So no tears will fall
from swollen eyes
Why don’t You raise
Your numbers together
and plainly play it to us all!?
Show us, Show me
Lest I believe, and not
You are my balance
whilst I tip across
the dangers of knowledge
where questions quarrel
and leave me
for the feast of doubt and devils
I want
I knead
I plead and Pray
for Your acknowledgement here
And the teachers will know how I sing for You
And some will give to me from amongst You
ways to make contact
But some from amongst You
will indeed my students be, and
I will be fervent in my efforts
To help them
Find You in themselves

!!!!NEW MYK'L HANNA!!!!

2009-11-26T12:14:00.000-08:00

Peace People! And Welcome!...if this is you're first time through my spot. This is where I spill my soul through my creative voice, and choice words. For the first time I've posted my latest recording as an audio video to youtube, and here as well. Give me and you a moment LISTEN. I also invite you to leave comments, and if inclined, why not journey back and receive some of my past posts...I'd love to KNOW that mine isn't the only voice I hear. BUT if nothing else, add me on facebook! The link to my page is directly to your right. Thanks, Peace, and as always...STAY TUNED!!

RollingStop

2009-11-05T15:37:00.000-08:00

The day’s gone. I’m sure it did for you as the days always do. We do what we can. Try to feel better about the things that get us down. That slow us down. Cept today is the day proceeding last night. And last night something happened. Some window was opened. Neither of us were looking for it. But now its here. I lashed out. My words left me as my emotions do. Beautiful and sincere for when they are, and from whence they came. That was the day before though. I wonder where you’re heart is now…Still with him? Air condition units disguised as windows have been blowing what feels like cool air my way recently. It’s nice. But you know I’m a nature boy. Waiting to breath you in. We’ll probably smile a smile that’s held back even then when we first see each other. Act like it’s nothing new. But this reunion is different regardless of how we’ll front. We’ll be careful as we’ve been to not say the things that don’t need to be said, not ask the questions we don’t wana know the answers to until its necessary. And who knows what this will necessitate. Till then, smiles are hidden inside. The frontin continues. I’ll keep reminding myself that this isn’t about us. Find that little but of sincerity I can count on in this. It’s helped me get through today, I’ll save some for tomorrow, but it may not last till Saturday….

And now for you….

2009-11-05T14:37:00.000-08:00

You make a mockery of my love. You lead me to the water, and no sooner than I can catch my breath and willingly dive, you push me in. leaving me, my lungs, and my life no warning. Then you cry and scream as I drown. I tread and reach towards the surface never seeing your arms plunge down to pull me up. Hearing your moans muffled by the bubbles as I sink to sit on the floor bed. You weep over the distorted image of my corpse under the blue, and then wave a better you down the beach to help. Admirable, desirable even, but too late. And then the tides change, and the two of you gaze on as the flames fly from the ripples and I rise once again. Unfamiliar to your eyes, you look on in pain and amazement as you’d never expect I’d be able to burn like this. So I soar off, and you heal up. We both become stronger, yet I’m the only one who’s really alone. You and yourself run back home to the village not far beyond the brush and study ways in which to be content, or to deal with the contentment therein. Yet when misery finds you relentlessly where you are, you look to the skies knowing I’ve never been far behind, knowing there’s no mountain whose peak I’ve not perched upon where I couldn’t see you and all that you are. Calling yourself liberated, yet still I see your footprints in the sand. You’ve been walking to my grave. To that spot where you let me die. Where you killed me. I visit myself, but roses won’t fall from my beak to kiss your cheek as he does. No. Instead, on nights when the moon is high and bright enough to cast my shadow against the rocks, I circle and listen in for your song…hoping that you may sing along with mine. But you don’t. I thought, maybe I should sing louder, more sweetly…but sweetness for you comes often in the form of a reluctant love your life will never allow you to truly feel, yet selfishly you won’t set free. So I silence my calls out to you, and follow the wind to another shoreline where I can sing all day. There, I’m reminded of how small the land where you live is. I’m reminded of the bittersweet sound of footsteps walking towards me that aren’t yours. There, I sit, and I listen to them sadly, wishing they were yours as I’m driven back to the deep and lonely sky. Back to watch over my tomb. Yet upon my return your pleading voice hits my ears with an urgency I can’t ignore, imploring me as if I was all that there was to save you and yours from the village and its tyranny. Bitter, yet ever compliant am I. Your plans of escape are elusive, and decadent as the folly of our love on the beach that day. And so I am captivated, drawn in, and not soon after comforted by the scent of duty calling me into action. I must’ve drifted by them, for I didn’t see the rocks defamed by your praises and prayers to such a false god as he. You’d extol him, in the evening, and call upon me in the early morning!? Not a squawk or a squeak shall leave my beak now. You’ll know what treachery my heart feels, as we conquer the hills ahead of us. You’ll have me for a moment, before I send you back to him and to your stones to continue your letters where you left him last. It will be yours to decide. You know that no death can keep me down, but a life with you would indeed by crown. Now keep your invitations, and I’ll speak not a word, lest I strike out as you have….besides, it’s much too beautiful of a day outside to not enjoy the colors with my own eyes.

यू लिस्तेनिं?!

2009-11-05T14:33:00.000-08:00

As if I wouldn’t have something to say. But this isn’t for her, its for you. Nah matter of fact its for both of you. Cuz one is feeling like everything and nothing right now. Trying to make her apart of mine. Or invite her to be anyways. I feel like I’m finally waking the fuck up too. See she wants it her way or not at all. She wants you to drop everything and pay her all the attention in this world and the next cuz that’s what she feels she deserves, despite how broke or broken it can, could, or has left you. And I know it has. She praises you for all that you are, and yet pities you. She walked over you then, in your face and abroad, and then smiles and accepts your gifts of compassion. Judging from what I’ve heard, I don’t think she’s ever really loved you, just what you are. You’re good, Unblemished even…to a point. A giver, like me, except you don’t mind not getting anything in return…ever. I can’t really deal like that. You’ll stand by, lavishing her with as much as she’ll take, but that’s all that she’ll do is take. When it’s time to give, she’ll do it on her time, or reluctantly. Ask yourself, when have you asked and she obliged? But then have you even asked? See it makes it hard for me to respect you as well, at least when it comes to this, when it comes to her. What is it worth brother, to give until you’ve nothing left to give? Till your pockets are stark bone dry cuz she drank you down and left not even a sip to quench your throat parched of her? When has she actually made the giving worth the while, worth the energy, worth the money? When has your reservation been acknowledged with excitement, when has she actually been truly satisfied by what pleasure you thought you brought? Can you say? Can you answer without pause? No? Why, cuz you weren’t keeping track huh? Cuz you’re just that kind of guy, I know. And guys like you don’t need chics like her man. Hell, maybe I don’t either. But I’ll tell you this…I deserve her more than you do. Cuz I’m not afraid to speak the fuck up and tell her that the rainbow doesn’t spout pink out her crotch cuz she thinks it does. I’m bold enough to tell her when her blades aren’t sharp enough to spear me, my flesh is too thick. There’s no money that can’t be spent, trust. Giving the gift isn’t the problem, but why give when the receiver is ungrateful? When she believes in her heart that she deserves it anyway, whether you’re giving it or not. She’ll just as soon ask why you’ve stopped crawling up behind her if and when you do, even though she kept her eyes forward and you on a leash while she struts down the avenue winking at the other pet owners saying “Go girl!” I don’t blame you. Lord knows I’ve been there. Enough times to know that it’s all bullshit. She doesn’t know it yet, can’t see that I’ve passed these games of “let’s play princess palace and you be my court jester”. Peasants. I’m a King. IAMTHESYMPHONIEPHOENIX. And the sky is far too wide to stay narrow minded . It’s her eyes isn’t it? She’s a beauty that you don’t see until you look, and once you look, you’re hooked. You’re not to blame, just get out now! Not because I said so, or because I want her for myself, but because as long as she’s got you under her spell…there’s nothing you can do. You’re love won’t get through to her. Even now as she contemplates how much better than me you are, she’s hesitant. You’re the obvious choice; Everyone’s number one pick. So why haven’t you won yet? Sure a trip and some turkey might get you a biscuit and gravy…but then we both know she ain’t soppin up n’un that she can’t spit or shit back out. Someone else deserves you more bro. And I bet you’re reading this getting offended for her. Don’t. Cuz she’s doing the same thing, being just as mad, but not because it’s not the truth, rather because she wishes you would actually have the balls to say and see all this. Then you might could actually win. But I won’t be your personal pessimist. There’s hope yet. When she’s had her fun, and her hearts been broken a few more times, and maybe some years pass and she starts to be on that woman type “I feel my internal clock ticking” shit, and she sits back and looks at all the beautiful lonely women surrounding her that were so stubborn as not to…she’ll settle. She’ll convince herself that life would be better with you than by herself. You saw the post. You read her words. So best of luck chum! You’re gonna need that and some more. Meanwhile you’ll ignore all I’m saying, and count me as a hater tryna block. And that’s fine, that’s what you should do if you’re all she says you are. But she and I will probably be arguing about this by tomorrow afternoon, and slumbering under the stripes of a crimson Egypt by tomorrow night…something to think about I guess. Peace bro. Can’t say I didn’t give you the heads up…

"I Bet You're Wonderin' Where I've Been..."

2009-10-22T21:57:00.000-07:00

Keep me for yourself. I'll have you instead.

Every night I die. Living life as Martyr. You will be my flag bearers, and t shirt wearers. Struggle songs will ring out in my name, for my namesake. Art and intoxication are of my own grand design, spelled out on graph and staff paper for the publisher to distribute. He is me too. Mr. Mi.2.

Don’t think I’ve forgotten about our mischeives, and indeeds. Fuel is old school, and I just need the real thing sunlight in my eyes to see a brighter day. No empty call log can keep me away from you truly. I visit all the time in my mind, and am usually greeted with open arms, so don’t say you don’t miss me for the love you give me just the same.

My nomad travels will take me around the world in 80 ways, but no hot air can keep the glare from your stare off the back of my brain. You’re always there. Making me what I am destined to be.

A treasure on the other side of the rainbow is what I’ll find and bring home to split amongst us honorable theives. But till then, my, how the colors bend, and how I’m lost in the lulling fall of the leaves.

Hero children rejoice! Let not your worries be of my woe. I’ll carry these blunders. My feet will trod wonders, through thunderstorm tempests and snow. I’ve much more to learn, yet when I return I’ll have with me something to show.

My journey is not in vain, pray your prayers will reach me and teach me of how compassion and friendship is more diligent than any technology can deliver. For “in life as in battle, honor is paramount.”, and therefore I will charge on into the fray, for you, and for us come what may.

‘Autumn Leaves’. ‘September in the Rain’. ‘Days of Wine and Roses’. Sad loves songs to compliment the pain. But none is sadder than my own refrain, yet still I’ll sing, till we’re together once again.

Yours Forever and Today, I’ll Remain.

....+...

2009-09-10T21:58:00.000-07:00

The deserving of love are the undeserving of it. Of this I’m sure.

The light comes on that much brighter inside the moment that its been turned on from being off for so long.

I’ve been living in the broken silence of darkness and heartbreak. Learning all the corners of my lonely soul with blind eyes, and an open mind. What I’ve found is that I know this thing a little better.

Some of it comes from feeling it. From hurting. And knowing why the hurt helps.

Some of it comes from wanting better, and willing myself to strive to be honorable enough of a man that god wills it for me as well.

I’m resilient because I’ve been cloaked in loves royal robes and know what burdens become armor in the end.

My ears, arms, lips, and loins have been deprived of your replys and so I drink your words down hard, cut with anxiety and excitement, and chase it with a tear drop shot...

Not knowing whether it’s closing time, or if the party just started. But “I know who I want to take me home…”

Happy Halloween

2009-08-31T17:31:00.000-07:00

What can come of a forced happiness? Not much worth taking home, or to north carolina evidently. Lonliness still finds me, and wins me occasionally and now. Fights are getting old, but ill keep it up till I wont have to. Till im figgin neo, and the matrix folds over onto itself. Cant let em spill my blood unless I want them to, and even then I wont go easily. You cant keep me from this. You cant keep me from here. Take my lady and my love, and my motivation, but never my will to create. To discover. I’ll be a poor prolific some bitch before there’ll be sky that I don’t emit my genius into. That’s right I said it. A hag. A whore. A beggar, and a blind man, but a genius says I. Crippled by his own devices. Standing on wet feet from scrathing my ears with my toes. They’re looking for him now. But he’s not there. I’m here, and I’m not him. I told you you wont find me in the same place twice EVER! I’m learning languages, and techniques to talk you into tasting my talons. Die bitches. Fuckers wanna bury me under the contracts of a soul signed away for false dreams. I’m not him! I’ll settle his debt to honor his memory, but he’s gone!!! I tell you now. Fear has fixed itself in front of me. Fake flags, I rip through them violently tearing down your scars and strifes. Cowards. I’m still here, go run for the hills, and tell em you saw it. Tell em your story. My story. I’ll only be stronger by the end of this, harder to approach with games I play only reluctantly now because I must. Squaks from dying pigeons that claim they can sing, when they see the symphonie. I bang like tympani’s tuned to roar out for centuries to drown out their torturous noise. I shut it out, and cut it up, and leave the knife sitting out where you can see my fingerprints. Ive got nothing to hide. Diligence loses me in the fury of a futile defense. Attack if you wish, it’s yours to take the risk.

94 From Toronto

2009-06-24T14:19:00.000-07:00

I only want to kiss your lips.

I only want to taste your squizzle.

I only want to share my secretes with you.

I only want to look better for you.

I only want to feel free inside of you.

I only want to watch us smile in pictures.

I only want to be strong enough to let you go.

I only wanna not hate you for doing this to me.

I only wanna leave you when I have to.

I only wanna come back to the bed you sleep in.

I only wanna drink the tea you brew.

I only wanna be your vanilla chai.

I only wanna sing songs about our love.

I only wanna cry when you hurt me.

I only wanna get fresh to compliment you when we go out.

I only think we look fly standing next to each other.

I only wanna call you a bitch when you are.

I only wanna spend money on things that make you smile.

I only wanna compare you to every other girl that never made it.

I only wanna kill anyone who would hurt you.

I only wanna kill you when you don’t wanna be with me.

I’m only crazy because I love you.

I only love you because I’m crazy.

I only wanna experiment with highs, and avoid lows when we can.

I only wanna argue when we’ll have sex afterwards.

I only wanna smash cell phones against walls when your on the other line.

I only wanna talk to you on smart phones, and never again on instant messanger.

I only want you to not walk away every other month.

I only wanna stop begging you to stay every other month.

I only want your family to stop hating on facebook.

I only want more men in your life than women with no men.

I only wanna be cool with jeff.

I only want you to be cool with cheryle.

I only want you to follow me where I go.

I only want you to get your career going so I can follow you.

I only want you to graduate.

I only want you to get over her.

I only want you to get over yourself.

I only think you’re the best.

I only think you’re the worst.

I only wanna hate you till you die.

I only wanna cut you off like she did me.

I only wanna get you pregenant and trap you.

I only want Brooklyn to have a backyard to chase birds in.

I only wanna smell sex on Egyptian cotton sheets.

I only want us to last.

I only wanna get over you.

I only want focus.

I only want diligence.

I only want Chicago.

I only want Detroit.

I only want New Orleans.

I only want New York for you.

I only don’t give a fuck what anyone who reads this thinks.

I only think that we can work.

I only think that long distance doesn’t.

I only think you’re such a girl.

I only think I’m cold cuz I need to be sometimes.

I only think everyone thinks they know everything.

I only think we know better.

I only think your scared.

I only think I’m a lot.

I only think I shoulda never kissed you back that night.

I’m only so glad that I did.

I only know our past is dark.

I only know that right now is fragile.

I only know the future is what we make it.

I only want matching stamps in our passports.

I only wanna dip you in sunshine when the moons out.

I only see the stars when I look into your eyes.

I only think that you’re the love of my life.

I only got the tattoo cuz I was scared you wouldn’t if I waited.

I’ve only got a little bit more to go.

I only think you should think again…again.

I only wanna hurt for a day if you don’t.

I only love you cause I’m crazy.

I’m only crazy cuz I love you.

No Home In My Bed

2009-06-05T11:01:00.000-07:00

Happy songs.

No matter the tune, fill the air on wafts of comfort.

Surrounds me. Sorrowless now.

Trickles in the distance, down rocks into the grass piano.

Safety and serenity flit on the wings of extinction defying gravity still. Buzz.

No ringing in my palm, or on my fingertips struggling.

Dreams are forgotten but not lost. Never lost.

I still hear her voice calling me inside from sidewalk sketches.

I love in this memory now.

Only this memory from which I came, can bring me back to now.

The toll road is too far to pay as you go. Chasing pavements is a losing game.

My patriotism keeps me from accepting such a foreign concept.

The sunlight beams off the crest of my flag as it waves proudly high in the sky.

My soldier’s eternal, and the fight is won..for now.

Carry on in spite of me. Carry on.

Pleasant Mountain

2009-05-27T11:00:00.000-07:00

Whatwhatwhat is there to say when the mp is out of reach, and the mics are off? While the instrumental plays over in the car stereo speakers that are hooked into your ears drums, bangin like Africa around the fire. The villagers look on as you pause in hesitation. Wars coming, and you missed out on your training. Now what’s left is the blood from raining memories desolved into lonliness. Rising down, finding the roots and following them to the center of the earth. And back. Skylines transform into grassy parking lots where trees loom over a ground that has no where to go. And I have nowhere to flow, so I’ll evaporate into the clouds. River dancing is for the stage, and I’m in the audience still. The curtain is curdled with the singe of soy, unsettled and sticking to my stomach. Broomstick dreams, and bed knobs turn for her. She’s welcom where I sleep, and where death sneaks in. The lesson plan is jaded, and fear is all but faded.

Long Distance Love

2009-05-25T13:33:00.001-07:00

Bullshit.
Stubbornness.
Insensitivity.
Miscommunication.
Digital argumentation.
Confrontation calls.
Misleading words and phrases messages missed.
Green is suppressing the color in my anger.
Sleep escapes me to paradises unknown, while patience goes unrewarded.
Paradise is paradox.
Paradigm shift, overload of emotion drove through bedroom window. Slipped in between the rain drops out towards the lake.
Senseless.
Square immges on top of my desk, visualize my attacker. See my help in front of me. Barbeques and family differences, nice words lost to tart tongues.
Interface malfunction.
Brickwalls before we can see whats behind door number 2.
Passionate? Hardly? Unless you count all the time sickness creeps into the mouse hole and burrows out. His cheese will be eaten by the other one waiting for him to look away at the right moment.
Underline the point in red, then I’ll know what to spell check.
I had a pretty good time actually.
Translation denied, call refused.
All about the sanyo slayer, the sanyo slayings this weekend made headlines. In print on every corner and newsstand.
Another one bites the dust.
But we’ll read it and forget. Keep on ordering lunch specials.
The time it took to look over the bar at the screen wasn’t long enough to make a meal.
Back to coffee, and waking with disgruntled countenace.
Same day the same way. Same pay.
The delightful reassurance that we know we can get over the long distance. Love.Lon

Requiem Wordsong

2009-05-09T18:47:00.000-07:00

What really is this lament of mine?

I think it’s the fear in my heart. The stuff that’s not suppose to be there. Those pesky feelings of limitations. Oh hindrances.

Of the inevitable authority trying to regulate my creativity. They want to lock me down. And you too. I lament about that.

I cry for all the love this life will never experience, that this flesh will never feel fresh against itself. For all the waterfalls I’ll never dive off, or under. Those meeting places with only one some there.

For the ringing in my ear, the siren piercing constant sound of madness? Of control!? Of foreign concepts and theories the likes of which my mind cannot yet grasp!?!? It plays steady now, and even steadier still! As if to remind me of something. Varying slightly only like a relocation of an itch, and inch over. Just, still there.

I clench my fist at that. I arm myself for them.

Yet I can’t seem to keep my weapon drawn on you. Atleast not long enough to capture your true beauty splattered against papyrus full with intent to receive it’s image of you.

All the songs, are gone. Sunrise 626 was one calling back to it's lost kindred.

Our souls will chase each other out the window. I weep for the unpleasant landings. And for the pain the unpleasantries won’t have to feel, won’t even welcome.

Scars are crown. Stregnth and resilience are royal sensibilities that we shall aquire on this, our journey to the other side of the game.

Why is what I have for winners and losers. For you and I, and everyone like me and us.

For the shadow behind my reflection.

For the lonely lines looming over me.

For you.

For your eyes, like prisms of passion. I’d just as surely bathe in your tears, like the cleanse warm waters of a pure pain. For leisure.

I weep for the security of the world inside my bedroom, where from platforms of darkness I helm these calls out to you. For the echos that don’t make it back. For the breathe that fails my refrain.

For the smiles I’ll never see on yours or their faces. For the tools that will gather dust in corners, rather than build and bridge and boast.

For the sinful moments of my riotus humanity trying to better itself, and not succeeding.

I do want you, however, to cry for me.

Perhaps I could be your lament, perhaps I could be your pausing concern. Perhaps there is reason to be afraid after all.

After all.

While three plays again

and again,

and again.

My lament of love is for that.

Is for her.

Is for you.

Is for me.

Is for them.

This is Dedicated to the LoverThinker In YOU

2009-04-28T17:09:00.000-07:00

Broadcasting live from the radio land station in the big bowl of a sky pie. That’s right. From right here. Right there.

When is the offering worth the time it takes to get up out of your pew? When it feels good because there’s something in your pocket to give? Or cuz you feel the something in the gift. It’s the giving of the gift that’s the gift. That there is always a gift to give. The gift of love. The love you have inside of you always. Often it’s shrouded. Covered and Cloaked in pity, in those uncounsious mistakes that plague your every next step, until your steps are “every next step…?!?!” Somethin’s coming, somethings happening. No! Nothings happenening that isn’t YOU happening! Being, Doing. DOING! Are we human beings, or human doings? If love is an active force, than our lives are doings. We are a result of the impetus, of the origin. The love is life.

What if it was you? …..??

Get over. Get over, get over there…where I’ can see you and follow. Where I can fix my eyes on your footsteps and walk in them until my feet won’t fit. Till I can’t measure my heights to yours because they are the same. Till I can’t look down, or up at you with my heart, or my weary lonesome ego that’s been working to keep me from myself…and from you.

If this is what I am to be known for, then I will give it freely. If this is to be my claim, my worth, then take it!! Force my hand lest I surrender it to you at will!

Charity!!!! You better give it somebody. Cuz what about what I need??

Never Too Late

2009-02-28T10:28:00.001-08:00

Lest our feet stray from the places our God where we met thee

Lest our hearts drunk with the wine of the world we forget thee

Shadowed beneath thy hand

May we forever stand

True to our God

True to our native land

This is what it should be...shouldn't it? Shouldn't it be my space to do this?

Shouldn't it be the opportunity given IN space, FOR space to receive this; what I have to give!?

It is what I, and no one else has to offer at this VERY moment. In this very calculated moment that connects science, and spirituality, and mathematics; divine and digital.

...and even now my cat keeps stepping on my keyboard, not randomly on the number lock key. Making it harder for someone out there to decode the transcription I'm delivering.

This is history all in itself. This is engraved onto time. Because when I stop and ask myself, could it be?....

...yea, it could.

Cuz time is like....cloaked down over us. It is like the skin of the sky. And we are simply inside

the blood flowing inside

the veins that flow through

the muscles that are underneath

...that skin.

So then this is like a tattoo inked into that skin.

Oh it's cold too nigga! That mugs got a dragon on it, and flames and shit, and a lion, and it's like covering the whole arm n shit...But wait, now there's an arm? That would imply there being some kind of BODY.

OHHHH!!!! So there's somethin' bigger then huh? You gonna give me the whole

" There's something greater out there. Something deeper man, yea..." speech? Is that what you're gonna give me??

Nah.

I'm just gon' tell you to keep your nose open, and your eyes to the skies. And by that, I mean keep them open too. Whatcha see starin'at the ground anyways!?! Your iPhone ain't your ticket outta here. And I can bet you won't find it on the screen laying in the lap of your palm. Treat your hands better, they are beautiful machines.

Wondalous.

And most people won't recognize that the left and right are just as important.

All that is to say...keep your hands clean...

...by which I mean, be right. But if you're wrong, at least have the decency to put some oils and fragrances on your wrist, and the dirt from under your nails for when I lift your hand to kiss you goodnight

All that in this moment. This moment. This moment.

And every moment after that your mind lets you follow in the footsteps ablaze in the trail before it.

This is what I have, now. What I figured I'd offer you.

2009-02-26T13:25:00.000-08:00

A Lover/Thinkers Lament...an intimate introduction

2008-05-27T11:39:00.000-07:00

"I'm inside of my mind as I speak to you

Trying to find the time to speak the truth

My third eye is inclined to weep the proof

because these signs will inscribe what sleeps in you

But still, my heart would hide away

My soul learned to disguise its face

to keep you all enchanted with the image that you see

But, now the physical confines are strangely

helping to define the change

The greatness pours through weightless doors

and I'm becoming free"

That stanza is the first verse of a song on my forthcoming debut album ( In Between Life) called "A Lover/Thinkers Lament". Now, for those of you who have absolutely no clue as to who I am or what in the fuck I am talking about inside those few lines....allow me to introduce myself to you by offering you a more intimate understanding of my artistry and methodology. I'll try to start at what would seem to be the beginning...

...The Way

One of the most common questions I am asked in regards to my music or any of my original works is "How do you do it?" But not with a sense of amazement, but rather of inquiry and curiousity. People wanna know do I come up with the music first and then write lyrics, or lyrics then music, or at the same time or whatever the case may be! And for a long time I'd never been able to give a concise answer because my method was never a consistent one. Yet as I have matured as a man, and as an artist, I've managed to be able to articulate the one consistent aspect in my creative process. I simply surrender to that bittersweet aspect of humanity we like to call our emotions! Now by emotions I don't mean the way that you think someone should feel at any particular moment about anything in particular, rather literally anything at all! Any aspect of life that touches me in a moment such that it's both profound and inspiring in some way, is noteworthy. Whether in a song, a rhyme, a poem, a sketch, or even scattered thoughts and doodles on a page that to the naked eye looks like scribble....I simply obey the forces that create my emotions, and let my emotions create my art.

...The Words

On this project, most of my production is coming from a long time friend and fellow vocalist Jacob "J. Perez" Borum and his company One Track Entertainment. Although he and his team are indeed multifaceted, 9 out of 10 tracks I've done from One Track are all of his own original production. Being that him and I are really the only creative entities on my project, it has been much easier to establish continuity from song to song. Interestingly enough, the most reoccurring raw theme or feeling has readily been dark. Song's like "Sticks and Stones" (myspace.com/myklhanna) with slow saturated instrumentation in minor keys, and heavy rhythmic characteristics resonate in the depths of an explicit and specific chamber of intensely emotional lyrical content...and that's one of the love songs! As you've read, the lyrics to this song are especially personal as they are not simply about me, but about a me that isn't readily identified as the me most would claim to know. So in a sense, this song (which has yet to be recorded) is an audible plunge into the depths of my uncharted personality. And as the ocean floor is devoid of sunlight, so too is the mood and lyrical development in this particular piece. Thus perpetuating the dark undertone evidently prevalent on this project.

...The Title

I love music. Good music though, I can't much fuck with the garbage out there. But people don't seem to want to acknowledge the amount of good music there is out here from countless artists that represent countless cultures across countless genres! And ever since I've been able to discern on my own what is good to me, I've done what any and most other artists of all kinds do with things they admire...I steal it! lol The beauty in art is that when you've stolen something, you may not even realize it. It may be that the part of you that is striving for individuality grabs onto anything it even casually fancies, and before the rest of you can realize what's going on, you're "individuality" is the totality of innumerable influences, most of which can never be identified in their original state. Those that can be, are. And those are the they that characterize you as a person, and in this case, me as an artist. I'm a wordy kinda guy, that much is exceedingly evident! Somewhere down the line I stole someones infatuation for detail and the use of words to illustrate that detail. So it would only seem natural that when studying music history in college, that I'd steal certain aspects of early opera. I am, after all, a friggin vocalist! And to one such vocalist as myself, the sultry soprano melody afloat over the intricately simple yet warm, dark strings that made up the famous aria from Henry Purcell's most noted Opera "Dido and Aeneas" was music to my ears, through my ears, and into my being. In a word, that was my shit! The aria is entitled "Dido's Lament". A lament is almost literally defined as a sorrowful poem or song. Being that the opera is Dido and Aeneas, when Didos character had a lament of her own, chances were that it was about her, it was pretty personal, and of course...it was dark. Likewise, In Between Life is something like my opera, my story. And because I feel lovers and thinkers can identify with my music, I feel i can identity with them and thus call myself one. Therefore, "A Lover/Thinkers Lament" is my own twisted sorrowful song, my aria.

Besides hoping that you actually reached this point, I hope that upon reaching this point in reading that you feel you know a little bit more about Myk'l Hanna, and that you would direct someone elses attention here to learn a little bit about ya boi. Word of mouth is a powerful tool! I try to be a nice guy, so it's ok to say hello! I welcome all constructive criticsim, and am eager to know what you think. Stay tuned for more needlessly extensive blogs, that could potentially be about nothing...I'll make it interesting. You make it personal. B E-Z, yo!