My foundation is exploiting in writing my temptations
Infecting you with the poison of my soul
Verbal infestations
An Endless Black Hole
I reflect on past relations
And when I feel deep, I dive
Omnipotent scrawling like the Book of Revelations
My versatility is boundless like switching radio stations
A little bit of Country, Rock and Roll, R&B and soul
But, I must admit I'm mostly HIP-HOP
Turn up my thoughts until my ears pop
If my hardcopies are stained its most likely teardrops
Concrete, everything that's hard is the exterior of my Writer's Block
Tales of prostitutes and pimps who got shot
Forty-One Shot salutes into Black men by crooked cops
Broke pregnant fiends searching for that gray rock
To get it, they give head to dealers in Central Park
This IS what I write when my thoughts are dark
I stand firm on my Writer's Block
and shout from obscenities from rooftops
Concrete, like specific, solid, absolute, and actual
Truth, definitive, certain, and factual
Do I bend the truth?
Like Superman bends steel
Because sometimes fictitious metaphors
Amplifies the Real
I plant seeds in the field
Sometimes utter words of wisdom for one to yield
And purify systems like weed heads use Golden Seal
My Block has eight sides
But at any given time, Six sides I hide
Truth
Sensitivity
Masculinity
Serenity
Negativity
Subliminal
Imaginary
And Spirituality
The internal eight
To tremendous to contemplate
My awareness is infinite as time itself
At times my slang can intoxicate a woman
like spirits from top shelves
Then my Writer's Block grows harder
She...soft and wet
As our thoughts intertwine I discover Victoria's secret
Muscles tensing, hips grinding
Dance hall music and soft lighting
In anticipation of dying, groins begin tightening
My Writer's Block is indeed a square
But round in its center
Male is definitely the gender
But the block harnesses a placenta
Were thoughts are conceived and grow into concepts
Where ideas are born and nurture my conscious
I am bounded at this time to communicate by laws of phonics
And relay them to you via sight or sonic
But I only wish to evolve and communicate
without phones the web and such props
And guide you through my wonder

Enter my Writer's Block....

shit i wish i could drop this when i have writers block. even though deadman gibbeish is written with writters blaock, for its a keestyle. but this drop was hot. it had mad focus and decent wordplay. and a decent amounts of witts. i'd qoute them out, but im kinda tired/lazy rite now, so stay up. peace.

joey