Mason/Dixon: The Blog

Plain = N.Steven

Bold = Spoken.Word.

This starts as one line, with an infinite conclusion
A mix of love, life, and Lord, quite an eclectic infusion
Passing the pen and pad, like a weed-totin' rotation
Tradin' sensations, peep this poet-emcee collaboration
N V this duet, like the 14th and 22th letters
Got chu' blown like a feather at how well our rhymes flow 2gether
Still we maintain our high, our fly and hypeness rivals the sky
Some ask why we shine and I reply that in God we rely
Easy to see, it is, that these lines and rhymes are His kids
And He's timin' this to show people what time it is
Time to write, time to sing, time to shout, time to live
A flow to give, not a show it is, but livin' time-e-less
Know this flow is ALL MOTION, and the light is now green
So make moves like Janet; Rhythm Nation's on the scene...

Labels: collaboration, poem

I’m all ears.
Here taking the blunt end of your tears and fears for years
See it clear-ly that I’m closer than your most thorough peer
See, right now? The world is lowly and polluted
Zombie vagabonds begging for some truth undiluted
I want to use you, so use me how you see fit
Grip me to equip; I’m your punching bag to hit

Yo, from the first to the last of it
Delivery is passionate
The whole and not the half of it
vocab and not the math of it

I am your rhythm nation, your ill ish; your definition
I am your theory, your premise, and I’m the answered question
I am your politics and your diplomatic establishments
Your “we hold these truths”, “In God We Trust”, and Ten Commandments
I want your sighs, your groans, and every syllable
I want your scores of pain and each triumphant parable
I want the echoes of tribes crying out for revolution
I want the stirs of revival as Christ became our restitution
I want everything that you have
All that you got; confide in me
Come bring it all. Sincerely,
Your M-I-C.

Labels: mic, poem

Talk to me.

Give me all your worries, your issues and concerns
Let me see the intensity at which your heart burns
See, right here? The world is all ears and listening
I’m the ladder, the escape route from the hole you’ve been fishing in
I’m your loudspeaker, your soapbox, your volume level turned on high
I am the ringing in your ears when the truth cannot be denied

It’s only right that I address this
You gotta be in it to win it
I never come lame, Type killin’ in the game
So get busy.

I am your def jam, boy, fall out, i am your panic at the disco
I am your own krump session, your eardrum, your loud resounding echo
I want your blood, your laughter, your soul, your grit
Your care, your caress, your breath, your spit
I want your tears, your mind, your heart and your muscle
I want your tales of risk, hard time and hustle
I want that sound of 400 years of survival
I want the sound of an ole Baptist revival
I want all you have to offer
All you have to say to me
I want it all. Right now,
I am your M-I-C.

Labels: mic, poem

Illest Emcee/Album
Lauryn Hill/Miseducation of Lauryn H
Mos Def/Black on Both Sides
Lupe Fiasco/Food & Liquor
Mars iLL/ProPain
4th Avenue Jones/Stereo...
Eminem/
The Roots/Game Theory
Common/Be
Jay-Z/Hard Knock Life, Vol.2
Pharoahe Monch/Desire


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Labels: poll

Labels: poem, thesis

I remember being asked what I wanted to be when I grow up. I can't know how old I was, and that's probably not really important, seeing as how people in their 20s are still figuring out what they want to be when the grow up.

However, I think that for the longest time, I really knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. It started with the usual stuff.

1. Spider-Man.
   
2. Police Officer.
   
3. Teacher.
   
4. Writer.
   
5. Actor.
   
6. Rapper.
7. Male Dancer.

Even now, while I am in college, making the final strides into a lifelong career, I still thought I knew what it is I wanted to spend the rest of my life doing.

But now? I think I know. I think I want to make a change. I think I want to make a difference. I think I am tired of the same old same, the regular routine of drugs and violence, madness and insanity, apathy and laziness. I think I'm getting a little tired of big mouths with silent voices. I think I want to let a revolution take place.

Starting with my words.

Because I am not your black pride poet.

I’ve never been in a Million-man March.

I am not your anti-american, anti-economy, anti-prophylactic poet.

I do not pray to Allah, Buddha or Mary Jane.

I am not your Black Panther, black beret, black record label.

I am not a pop culture icon.

I am not your oooo’s and ahhh’s and militant speeches.

I am a poet.

I am a writer, a human, a blood and bone being.

I am you. I am me. I fight. I bleed. I hide. I seek.

I am music unfiltered.

I am God’s smile. I am God’s dried teardrop.

I am underground music. I smile and frown as I do this.

I am an empty wallet in search of dough.

I am a blank ballot in search of mo’.

I am a written “yes, yes ya’ll”, with the boom, bass and bump.

I am a poet.

I am not a flowery song, I am the song that births flowers.

I am a truthful contradiction, in consonants and vowels.

I am my heart’s cry. I am this nation’s stain. I am this nation’s pride.

I am John Mayer. I am Nas. I am simple. I am lyrical.

I am proof of Proverbs 18:21. I am so much more than letters and words.

I am not a phase, a moment, a fad. I am a ballad. I am a 16-bar freestyle.

I am a poet. And I've got something to say...

because no one else is saying it.

Labels: introduction, poet, write

Labels: introduction, knowledge, originality, truth