Whole > Sum Parts

by AllOne



Whole > Sum Parts is the 3rd compilation to collect my scattered collaborative ventures with talented friends from around the country and give home to unreleased songs or fractions of songs. Some songs are unmixed and unfinished but would otherwise go unheard ("Opening The Door" and "Colors" are two such songs) so I've decided that "warts and all" is better than "never heard at all."

The collection's title plays with the phrase "The whole is greater than the sum of its parts", which I've adopted and interpreted as an apt description of what happens in the process of all true and great collaborations. I don't know if these songs are all truly great, but I know they're all greatly true, and I know that it felt great to make them.

The timeline of these songs goes as far back as recordings from 2013 ("Within First...") and as recently as just a few weeks before this release in 2019 ("Adjectives"). I'm greatly indebted to the array of friends and admired talented artists who agreed to make projects with me.The songs were not initially intended to sit together, yet here they are, and here you are, sitting reading this. So here you are, I hope these songs sit well with you. Thank you for all of your support.


released March 26, 2019

All artist's roles credited to the best of my memory in each individual song.

Artwork and Design by Evan "Attaboy" Bujold. (www.evanbujolddesign.com)


all rights reserved




An experimental hip-hop lyricist, performance poet, singer/songwriter, author, beat-boxer. AllOne molds a brain into the shape of a heart and squeezes it onto a page to write thoughtful and sentimental lyrics laced with tight knit wordplay, rhyme patterns and poetic devices. Utilizing any genre and any musical means to make a genuine and meaningful conversation with you, the appreciated listener. ... more

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Track Name: My Answer (prod. by Tantu Beats)
Aye how you feelin' ?
“Haven't felt like myself” is my answer
Whose gonna make it?
Haven't felt like “myself” is the answer

verse 1
irrelevant bastard, developed a Hell of a standard
stand in a Hell, understand when I tell 'em I've seldom been sadder
it's no embellishment, candor, this fella that fell on his damn sword.

One with a double edge, cunning and cutting edge
glutton for punishment,
something is puzzling (coming undone again),
been on the fucking edge (compelled to jump from it),
he has unraveled, hung jury bungee neck
heart beat is a gavel, judgments have pummeled him
punting his crumpled up bucket list, slash all the junk from it
underfunded under slept, upset, setup with its cousin death,
head clouded in a mushroom sense...
head-trip-wired destructive mess.
"Oh um I guess AllOne's depressed?!"

crazy neurons paint a collage pain's a mirage
making you strong, brains over brawn, break all the bonds
silver tongue (saying it wrong,)
golden boy takes home the bronze (hates it's his fault)
beguiled and hopeless, no grace in the fall

cloud silver lining I've chosen is “silence is golden”
my lips are closed and eyelids are open,
Die of exposing naked truths I've been clothed in,
I've been cold yes, petrified and been frozen,
posed in Lotus faux zen focus mindfulness notions
trying to cope with psychic implosions:
I hate all my stuff, I ain't making the cut
when they pay me a cut, I ain't making enough,
maybe making these cuts, I ain't stable enough
((...okay that's enough....))

Every rose has its accessory to a crown
martyring yourself as you bled everything out
village idiot cries “lone wolf” for attention of the town
doubting the benefit of the benefit of the doubt...

Aye how you feelin' ?
“Haven't felt like myself” is my answer
Whose gonna make it?
Haven't felt like “myself” is the answer

verse 2
intelligent bastard enveloped in dwelling disasters
Selfishly pamper the health of his hazards, delicate
delving in stanzas like elegant hampers, quelling his damn hurt

demographic on a good day is a wall-flower bouquet
few make it to see Bruce play when anxiety is too great
too grateful for thousands of hugs,
expounding on love from a powerful bunch
I'm not sure my parents are proud of their son.
not drowning in funds, not out for the sums,
but wow I'm a chump, how afoul I've run!
can't take a chick out to a lunch?
all in all, All' put his all into every album I've done
art felt deserted: my brainstorms shower the dust
open a vein, page'll devour the blood
(that may get read)
when it's game time? Stage dive: I may connect
with the crowd from the jump (they're my safety-net
from my grave descent) I'm plagued with stress,
no patience left I can't pay my rent.
No main event, I mainly vent (got an aching chest
there's a stutter in my lungs when I take a breath)
am I making sense?

Every rose has its accessory to a crown
martyring yourself as you bled everything out
village idiot cries lone wolf for attention of the town
doubting the benefit of the benefit of the doubt...

Aye how you feelin' ?
"Haven't felt like myself” is my answer
Whose gonna make it?
Haven't felt like “myself” is the answer

Verse 3:
Inelegant bastard is yelling for help in a clamor
crammed in his shell like a clam or he jammed in a jelly of amber
dwelling unwell in a cellar a cell he selling himself as a shelter he asked for
(and buys it! A voluntary assignment of solitary confinement!)
No drama, everyone likes him but problems steadily bind him:
coming to terms with age like “Geez my head is balding”
no connections in my direction like my GPS is faulty
fallout with my calling, call out for she who never calls me
vaguely creepy sense of taunting, lately demons tend to haunt me.

Every rose has its accessory to a crown
martyring yourself as you bled everything out
village idiot cries lone wolf for attention of the town
doubting the benefit of the benefit of the doubt...

Every rose has its accessory to a crown
martyring yourself as you bled everything out
village idiot cries lone wolf for attention of the town
doubting the benefit of the benefit of the doubt...
Track Name: Within First... (unreleased snippet)
These daft kids act
like they've got a chance in rap
making classic tracks
cause they fit in with the fashion fads,
(flat brim cap with the snaps in back,
make it match exact with that
plaid, and kicks that have to
laughably have them straps!)
Well, I'm not a black skinned man,
on stage mic clasped in hands
with a band in back, a Chaplin hat,
Lorax mustache and dapper thrift slacks.
and the fact is that I'm never shunned,
cause never once has sincerity cracked, intact,
as my integrity's fastened fast,
never does my passion lack,
and I keep em all entranced and glad!
See it's not about the stacks of cash,
crack you stash, or gatts you clap
or images that you have to craft,
it's about the images you craft on pads!
You don't need to “network” to get heard,
fan's will spread word if you interns would just
reach out to them in verses, by doing the inverse,
they'll enhance your reach in turn.
See, people need artists today to render a picture
of this hurt, they can't articulate in words.
If you want listeners to keep in touch,
touch their hurt they keep in,
and to achieve this you need to reach inwards within first!
Track Name: Ink-Well-Being (Jesse The Tree)
Think therefore iambic pentameter
Bringing forth my grand Bic pen's tacit worth
Ink enforcing quickened imagined words
Inklings forge expanded parameters

Spinning yarns to prevent looming death
living art like clay molded famed soldiers
(the Terra Cotta)

our existence is a piteous pithy blip
in a jiff we sit at the winking lid
blinking at the brink of the abyss,
abysmal, shrinking to think of it,
timid, frantic tend to grasp a pen and pad
as a parchment script and wizard staff
and autograph, glyphs, and craft
enchant and chant in chance to scratch
an Escher map, of Penrose steps to lap,
in an attempt to stretch elapsing seconds
before I tap, collapse and they etch that dash
to represent my end in an epitaph,
in crypts equipped with an epic task to scripting
prose longing to prolong my sojourn
sold that my sole hope's to sew my
soul through a medium
previous to my soma's meeting its “so long”
to supposedly only be spoken through mediums.
No creationist but creation is our greatest gift,
Grecian myth to theater scripts
Dave Chapelle to HG Wells
relaying help and save ourselves,
They say we're spellbound
by what we spell out and it's magic
We exist in the legacies we crafted
remembered in legends we inhabit
My inkwell's expressive formaldehyde
to ink well-preserved forms I'll decide
Food for thought and you are what you eat
Art mimics life visa versa repeat
Track Name: Always Be With You (Nox, Jon Jeremy & Chelsea Takami)
(Jon Jeremy)
Dear Family and Friends here we have in attendance.
We're here to honor this life that has tragically ended.
I said I wouldn't cry, but I think it's happening and it's
Got to stop so I can mention all the magic my friend did.
He was a great guy!
Dark, yet light and airy
Bright! Like his hair which was lighter than Guy Fieri's
And my theory's
He lived life like Ares, the god of war
Even though Cthulhu was the god he swore.
On Soundcloud, Nox was king.
And his name in the rap game was an obnoxious thing.
He was a freestyle deity.
Maybe from the Pleiades.
When he wasn't killing rhymes he was playing D&D
The freestyle AND dungeon master.
He would set the stage and then we'd plunge in after.
He was gentleman a scholar and a pungent rapper.
Cuz he was soaked in hip hop like a sponge, i can't... i wish he was still here...

(Chelsea Takami)
You're a part of me
You'll never really be apart from me
Soon you gon' see
I'll always be with you
I'm a part of you
A taste of my heart like soul food
Nothin you can do
I'll always be with you

I'm at a podium unhinged, holding in histrionics
Quivering jaw goading dizzying loss history all nixed
Iconoclast odious sardonic ass trolling comrade
I'll miss my calm, rad odd friend, Elder Gods damn.
Here today, gone tomorrow, time we got is borrowed
He lives on in art though Nox was dark so,
He'd remind us all, “when lives are lost they're compost”
Minor blots advise we're dots in large scope,
Trying not to wallow still I find it hard to swallow.
An irreverent sense of humor, devilish clever monster,
Jekyll yet less the doctor, intense as the Eldritch Horror
Incredibly fresh in concert an impeccable pen that conjured
Dense sentences left to ponder, a dependable legend gone,
An immeasurable pressure on us, a testament to this author,
A gentleman and a scholar of the Necronomicon
I can't accept that NOX is gone,
He spread a special ambiance
Left us all these songs so cleverly
As I speak this somber elegy,
Keep our thoughts upon his legacy
He will be with ya'll indelibly

(Chelsea Takami)
You're a part of me
You'll never really be apart from me
Soon you gon' see
I'll always be with you
I'm a part of you
A taste of my heart like soul food
Nothin you can do
I'll always be with you

Thank y'all for showin up, showin love
At my funeral, please help yourself to the grub
Prior to cremation, I made arrangements
Caterin gourmet plates and they great-tastin
If you popped this tape in and watched this statement
It's obvious, Nox did not make it
Just another lost patient straight decayin
Now you're waitin near my grave to put my remains in
I have been burned, now I lie in an urn
Before I am interred, lemme just write you some words
This is Nox deliverin his finalest verse
So grab your glasses and drink like you were dyin of thirst!
A little surprise, I had em mix the food
With yours truly, and even threw me in the booze
You consumed me, so I'm stayin within you
Nox is never gone! I'll always be with you!

(Chelsea Takami)
You're a part of me
You'll never really be apart from me
Soon you gon' see
I'll always be with you
I'm a part of you
A taste of my heart like soul food
Nothin you can do
I'll always be with you
Track Name: When The World Ends (Happy Thoughts)
Ladies and gentlemen,
I apologize for informing you
we're to die by a force we can't deny or ignore
there's no kind of a cure,
no use to try to endure
brushed aside like flies by a horse,
be sure to lie by the warmth
of your prized and adored..
"goodbye, oh Good Lord!
I'm horrified to report
that our demise is assured!"
Track Name: Characters Assassinate (IllWords & Ceschi)
Life is but a dream and we're all to row the River Styx
It isn't as if Pops popped tops, blacked eyes or livers sick
we mocked odd black sheep, had a ball, they fell for it for kicks
(it's the Charlie/Lucy punt gag Schultz had in the strip)
Let's explain: Exams are scams and tests are lame
“the world's a stage” we demonstrate with extras played
invent nicknames, make fun and get through days
center stage killer class clowns, character assassins,
staring at his facets, bent, apparent he's a faggot,
(hunched) hunched his posture from carrying the Atlas,
alas, no burying the hatchet, he's the only thing that's buried
is the head that's in my hand's since
stuffing him in lockers just prepared him for his casket...
Heart's a black hole emulating his pounding and beating
reading a death note to a weeping mother and seeing
his end throne is our capstone and crowning achievement
a headstone we ushered in and shoved him beneath it
Track Name: Sloth (Drip 'N' Drive)
Hazel hazy lazy eyes open crazily,
confused and disappointed as reactions to a Zeitgeist tape scene.
Aging Apollo quite moved past high noon, waking
our appointed protagonist a handful of years after eighteen.
Kicks off rank sheets. Stomach grumbles, thinks he may eat.
Stumbles, navigating a trash mosaic like a found art painting.
Turn on his TV (HD). Preparing to play Wii.
(Well, he'll need to work up an appetite
to pacify the pain he's had inside for a straight week)
Straining, slaving into the bathroom, wash up his face, leak.
(which with morning wood is a hell of a strange deed).
Wait...Speaking of morning wood...”wake and bake please!”
Fillet trees, blaze weed, then pancake feast.
Fantasy is perfect, til' the agony resurfaces:
Gravely tasting copper in his drained cheeks.
Spits in the caked sink. Faucet drips, takes drink.
“What's causing this?!” he just asks J.C.
Draw a quick bath, get soaked, skip soap.
Mom's Pantene, lather rinse, nay repeat.
Step out, damp towel.
(Not daily in his grooming routine,
but nicotine stains teeth
so Colgate squeeze then brush teeth like baleen.)
Vaseline on dry skin, flaking then forgetting cosmetics,
offset as aching resumes greatly.
As he's pacing through his slaving
parent's place freeloading,
cheat coding pasty
character grabs used pants, change jeans, plain tee.
Needs phone, ungratefully sends mum a livid text:
a grocery list with no request and no respect:
“must call physician”.
He's been a lame leeching lowlife like this since the 80's,
parasitic methods since his parent's sympathetic.
Enter kitchen, ain't no need to touch the switch the sun's arisen,
already back to dusk it's drifting, “day's weak!”
Bust the fridge and thrust his fist in favorably chug provisions...
Sudden pressure, rage seething like Hades in his frame, he's
brittle, bent. Silhouette a little letter “r” shape,
seeps a similar sound escaping out
ululating a deranged screech.

...As an author I should set the scene.
But these are horrors that no pen should speak....

Youth pondering a recipe:
product of excess and greed,
lethargy in the dead routine:
sedentary squalor, sloth sedative sees him,
squandering his energy,
all this thoughtlessly and recklessly,
all it needs expending see?
Awfully and wretchedly,
his body starts to retch and heave,
bloating as it's rendering,
he's clawing, crying desperately,
popping eyes like Mr. Bean,
coughing violent, vexed and green,
jaundiced guise as tension teems,
frothing bile levy freed,
atomic levels getting speed,
an appalling Pollack improv
sloshed upon the walls impressively.
With a sickening, deafening CRUNCH and POP
as the climaxed pressure peaks.

...As an author I should set the scene.
But these are horrors that no pen should speak....

Mother walked in unsuspectingly and saw it all viscerally,
lost her lunch and fled and screamed.
(It isn't often red and pink organs as confetti streams,
cover the walls and everything amongst ungodly fetid stink.)
Father called the cops and tended to she, all the while stress and weep.
Authorities assessing deemed it unanimously puzzling.
Panic when some company men showed to handle it and hush the press.
Evading all the publicists and changing over subjects
when they came to gather coverage.
Later in the months that lead police labeled it disgusting,
the strangest they had come in contact with
no explanation, or a culprit, “Lovecraft-esque,”
To this day some bring it up, while the jade horns get to chuckling,
the laughter is labored by the first responder team
that cant erase the thoughts that stuck in them...
“Sloth may not go unpunished, thus spontaneous combustion”
was a theory in discussion popularly according to rumor mill mythology.
And these rotten things have haunted me
'cause while I'm not sure that I agree..
the story is true, I lost my son.
And I've dodged lethargy doggedly every day afraid that it might bottle up.
Track Name: Minimal Friends (Nox)
"I write when defensive like squid ink cloaking,
No joking, I think an Armadillo's my Patronus
I'm a lone wolf in black sheep's clothing,
tripping on misfortunes, caught in fear and loathing,
white knuckled handshakes, hands shake balled in pockets
Scratch my baldin' noggin sink social cues in corner pockets
That's my cue: Nauseous awkward sweatin'
Hedgin' my bettin' my spirit animal is Sonic I'm guessin'
Roll up to the spot, Blue and in a ball too protective
God I'm pathetic, codependent code of ethics
costly expenses so invested so indebted
sewn enmeshment owed to friendships
calm and collected to an uncommon collective
odd and depressive neurotic eccentrics,
heart is a heaven, art is our best friend,
lost in a head-trip like a Topiary labyrinth
nip the wallflower in the bud, faux gregarious
social wariness aware of this paradox:
nervous jabber jaw fact is I'd rather not talk,
clamming up shocked trapped on the spot and exposed
"the tacit folks you have to watch" the maxim posed,
no matter how it goes you're on the "radar" that's a palindrome
Z-lister, reach inwards deep thinker off in fantasies
Reads into each whisper. Peace fingers (my apologies,)
at arms' length I keep kin with Reed Richards expanded reach
My minimal friend policy: they're family and they're quality.
Track Name: Adjectives (Kavi)
It’s not enough to tell you that you’re beautiful
Drop dead gorgeous, brought me to life when pharmaceuticals
Were threatening to meet both you and me at my own funeral
Years together are numerals, made a man out a juvenile

To call you “hardworking” is inadequate
simply isn't the adjective, you're disciplined and passionate
you're Sisyphus and Atlas yet mythic isn't the half of it
your brilliance is at the wick, twin ends of the candle lit

It ain’t even a thing to say that you’re patient
Your grace slows time for whatever you’re facing
Any struggle is nothing, nothing makes you complacent
Time isn’t wasted if it’s you that I’m chasing

if I call you selfless, it doesn't sell it
when I call your cell helpless, you relish that you'd quell it
My mind's a cell and I'm a felon, I'm unwell eyes are wellin'
I've fell in when a path's hellish, you're an empath, angelic

You’re intelligent, elevated, eloquent
Meditative, medicine for me to feel the elements
Celebrate you everyday, anyway to get a bit
Closer to understanding you

Language can't capture each life's conditions
we rely on diction to describe/depict it
Interesting: the experiences we find so vivid
that define our image can defy description

I'm sitting here writing bout you
thinkin bout what I'm gon' do
Track Name: Opening The Door *demo* (Doug Widick)
Open doors for people,
truly welcome them,
seems we've built borders
in accordance with a selfish trend,
Open up, invite 'em
to your shelter-head,
incite the development
of life that's a helpful quest.

AllOne verse:
Get the foot out of your mouth
and let it jam a door,
keep it gaping for a stranger
and watch their reaction for,
the magic lure inside a random act of pure kindness,
The truest beauty: interactive passion that's admired
Babylon... gladdened smiles passed along
that inspires the collapse of walls...
Catalyzing a Domino Effect
that's knocking over debts,
and masks we clutch,
Perhaps I've just ruby hues on these half full glasses but
To coin a phrase, pay it forward, never pass the buck.
My two cents? If we deposit modest acts of love,
Weave a positive example, never overdraft our luck,
put stock in common wealth and bond through honest help,
you'll avoid the trap of the red, negative, sad and stuck.
That old adage plugs:
“when one portal closes another door will open”
but hold it! if you do hold it, another's benefit hinges
on your genuine interest in letting them in when your residence is finished.
No sticks and stones group, stick together, stone soup swell fest.
We're so Scrooged miserly crush the Crachets hell bent,
“don't care a bit, know the drill...so screw em” humbug zealot
Shocking! Be ecstatic to pass advantage to someone else yet
we've become a jealous, society that's somewhat selfish,
aggressive, competitive and desperately afraid
our peers' successes will lead the way to our inevitable detriment!
Wait, let me present you this: If the weather is inclement,
and you invite people beneath your roof,
fret not the cubic feet that's used,
cherish the community heat's produced.
We as humans need to move in a peaceful unit,
to endure the dormant doldrums adorned with endorphins
and/or each of you endorse your dormitory and adore
your kin before we end our tour here
by opening up a door for your peers and see them through it.
Track Name: Colors *demo* (Storytellers)
Wake to a blank sheet monochrome landscape
scapegoat escape, grow and scope it out
rotoscope and solo now and fill it fulfillingly as a dream-scape
the world can be a dull bland place, a hard bleak gray
blank slate enrich it with engravings and pigments
before you plant graves, rant/rave damn, play grab paint
and make a planet sphere canvas here your masterpiece
you live inside a work of art! An orchestral performance
the moment that you know that...you contribute to it
improvise your vision into the intrinsic artful beauty that is living

ears crave music, muses' Aural fixation,
when it fits? Aids the fits...it fixed aches and
there's correlations between the collaborations and our core's coloration
the creation catalyzing/changing collapsing to catharsis
an artist's aura is that of the arsonist
(the insistent charge within to deconstruct/destruct
create warmth and glow from what is horrible)
the conflagration turns the commonplace calm complacent
to the warmth of flame we are intrinsic need to morph and make
more engaged and we say things “gray” when things are vague
as we learn and situation, our world grows with the interplay
a vibrancy comes into play. A brightness in a simple stage
a spotlight, monologue time, log life to help us spot light.

Be it Mozart's sheets or Chekhov's Gun,
be it Ernest's typewriter or Renoir's brush
be it Banksy's stencils or the pen I clutch.
Every creation is a representation of our present engagement
expressing our pain and the pleasure we take in
we are made to keep making. We ache to create things.
the forest for the great trees.
We see the world in potentials and obsessively connect those
make a melody out of monotony.
We freak when seeing a frequent sea of frequencies
We're Free. Quenched. Eased.

Mellifluous, meticulous yet “success is in the details”
if I'm not tuned in and attuned to tunes I don't sleep well
Well, All told, don't paint in broad strokes
in awful odd coats of long rolls, find a strong role
you belong in so you'll no longer be longing with bored souls.
Grab a brush and dip it into color pigments lush and vivid
bucket dipping before a brush with death when bucket kicking.

We take notes to examine and extract from life
we play notes to expand a soundtrack for life
when I carry a tune, I feel it carries me too
and carries me to a place I'll happily croon.
Ruminate in your REM. Embark,
remember to exacerbate that “Cathartic” contains “art”
unlock the floodgates' dreamed Arcs uncaged
two of every an...imated stagnant painting... Un-Cage
(no “silence”) your thunderous cardiac..tions
supply an inspiring supple amplification
to enliven a canvas, you'll have to paint it
to “fix silence” you'll have to “break it”

When something's importune we import tunes
if something's important, well in pour tints
explore, implore, explode angrily, implode creatively
whatever is invoked, emulsify, evolve immersive highs
dissolve, adrenaline and experiment adventurous
don't fear the unknown, Conquer it, forget the detriment
...ascend to bliss
Track Name: Anima Mundi (prod. by DJ Second Nature)
My mind's a blurred array
Of synapse fireworks displays
Immense thought-bubble-wand
Inside a hurricane
F5 Double-helix that is
winding words in ways
A blinding birth of brazen
Writing terms displaced
Kaleidoscope sight
For a sniper's nervous aim
Cause I'm not so precise
shotgun styled bursting brain
Like Kurt, Ernest and Hunter
Never curt while I earnestly hunt a
Curious learned hunger
Curing and earning hung up
humbled feelings by a jury of peers
My journey appears as a flurry of cheers
And injurious jeers am I worthy of ears?
Tearing up at the shared
Judgments of tertiary characters
Nearly thirty this year
Still my codependent care acts to
Hurt me severely
Verily giving extra attention
to extras I "externally reference".
It's a strange perspective when you gain respect and
your name's mentioned in the same sentence
as praised legends making you pay attention
yet it can't pay your rent and then when
playing "6° of separation with Kevin Bacon”
you're at the stage two steps away from your inspirations
frustrated too few who review invitations
so you're at the stage wanting to step away from inspirations
Okay then...
Up to bat, feelin' batty, pardon Wayne,
Bruce is feelin like an Arkham patient
Cells are bars I'm saying, I'm saying I'm stark raving
Art's a maze I'm locked away in, Lost In Space,
Flood of emotions, washing waves
you're welcome to the Ark I'm making
With decorative ardor to scar and stain
an arboretum worth of parchment pages.

Tattoo a Giving Tree with vivid imagery
continuing its gifts to me
Long after it was split and thieved.
Crystalline chrysalis breed
butterfly-special-effects that live in me.
LS3D set displays with the letters making "Dedicated"
IMAX surrounds soundly impressive 'scapes
I max my accounts to invent escapes
Kent in the S-Cape ain't getting' paid
only days are getting saved in his escapades
Kyle banks on me to keep the bar set high
and with Kyle Banks on my side, I guess that I invested right,
BMO? Gear up it's Adventure Time! the pleasure's mine,
assembling lines without assembly lines.
No synthetic sterilized web of lies for catching flies,
no ghost writers, though as we create we exorcise
spinning heads unwind as ideas intertwine.
we do seek beauty as we lose sleep to dreams
muse speaks we two drink creative juices leaked
from the cherub's eyes!
Out of my mind. Out of this world.
Didn't plan it right, I'm saturnine.
Has a ring to it, am I Sadder? Nein!
Just rarely satisfied Savant ascent to Avant-Asgard highs.
Had to find my solid ground since
I saw less solace 'round the soulless solitude
of head-tripping in the thunderclouds.
It goes: "Howdy Bruce how are you?"
to summarize I'm lousy moods,
sulkily submissive to summits
but how else would a mountain move?
Chased red-herrings through a stream of conscious talent pool.
Turned out to be a red flag I Betsy Rossed to a parachute.
My Peregrine nature took a dive, as any falcons do!?
My word is Bond, I'm Ian Fleming
Fecund head is fertile green with envy
food for thought feeding frenzy
envelopes get seen as lemmings
BMO remix getting you to change your standard speaker settings
this speaker's setting new standards on this beat I'm blessing
Inspiration's a cliffhanger
(What I mean is I can't see its ending!!)

Improvise throughout my envisioned life
til these dreams seem to be incidental,
coincidences in thread twists and ties
of spread decisions intertwined
in a mystifying time line of events and images
loosely connected with my very wishes
and every whim and yet it gets so convoluted,
at wits end and with what I'm choosing
rarely seems to make any sense,
each and every tether left
in the ether born of "either/or" questions
is an essential step requested to ascend to the pinnacle,
and when inquest obstacles obscure my quest obsessions
my intended successes tend to feel minuscule.
Every individual deviating interlude
in the path's a test, an interview
begging "what is your single truth?”
and asks the depth it's written into you.
needing to be explained.
False hopes whittle you,
forked both crossroads riddle you
in cross-hairs eclipse the moon,
see the crater, aim,
then you shoot as if Georges Méliès!
Baby made in '88 maybe dazed,
dazzling distractions dizzy you
don't be downtrodden or cynical
when footsteps on the ground jotted are symbols to
be added to a sound sum,
overall image worthy of zooming out from,
not only does it contribute, the journey is too the outcome,
Brainstorm Eureka's Castle, a moat made of flow-states.
Exclamation point looks like the light bulb over my "o face" (!)
we round up moments at a slow pace
the momentum on the road taken,
life is a drive and time is in miles,
once in a while ideals are stifled in prosaic
idling wiles detours from our goals made,
don't overlook memories
derived from the wild off oft-beaten
frequently filed feverishly hiked aisles
designed to provide you climax, apex, your soles ache
the birds eye view you've climbed to in your old age,
each accomplishment represented by a tile your soul painted
tired legs you'll see an entire legacy: a gold plated mosaic.

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