1. |
Forward, In Harmony
03:49
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Original rap/poetry by Larry Montague. Copyright © 2012 Larry Montague. Permission required for reproduction.
"forward, in harmony"
i awoke from a shallow sleep with formed fist
streams of thought groove where i wallowed in dreams
with increased acknowledgment, seeped in confidence
wading in the delta of day i’m not even sure what college is
and these words have me worried
the way that they frame it is blurry
i lose out finding myself in a hurry
what’s another piece of paper?
my work will make the world a better place before i put it on my resume
culture and race we’re supposed to celebrate
but one degree of separation ensures the world will never change
it’s ever-strange how the circle gets smaller and still doesn’t spin right
the shadows of our cities get taller
we sprawl into the last wild places
few and far are the smiles on faces, buried this one in a book
piles of pages and life’s all about milestones and phases
so you gotta dig the message
trees eat our messes and turn them to color
nourishing life as well as wonders to discover
seven generations full of brothers—i’m trying to do right by them
but how can i once the pipeline’s in?
put your hands in the dirt. forget green-washin
it’s time to make noise, there is no other option
get real: everything is not copacetic
we shall not continue without a land ethic
progress is opposite technology traps
what good is that without a blank spot on the map?
preservation means timeless, everyday’s Earth day
we need to rewrite the world in the worst way
so hear that story unfold
it’s two brothers making music from opposite sides of the continent and toward a goal
different coasts, still full speed ahead and well fed
off the pirated jams that we chop and re-blend
i’ve said a lot already, i used to suck
it was 04 and comments were saucy like a pot of spaghetti
i popped the top off the plot but the bottle was empty
at twenty-four there’s still no one dropping confetti
but it’s autumn nights
the beats get delivered hard in case you ignore the writes
like cops with wicked wedgies and leathermans
i’m better than the me of 2010, i reinvent
and still intent on being diligent, i never mill around
i got the will and wit to fill in the script with intelligent quips and relevant blips
say to hell with the rips—i’m not gonna buy that
this is occupyRAP and i’m still in a tent
one-hundred percent of my music’s an ill-legitimate child of self-improvement
fluent how do you do it? practice.
i’m holdin hopes high for a white nature-nut
feel the ones who paint it black are steady rolling stones uphill
under my thumb is the pen i get the power from
loud but the sound’s unplugged—figure that one
you show love, i give it back when i’m done
i turn my back to the grid and take a step toward the sun
forward, in harmony
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2. |
Castles In Air
03:15
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Original rap/poetry by Larry Montague. Copyright © 2012 Larry Montague. Permission required for reproduction.
"castles in air"
what if i was never heard?
an unsound like absurd advice
bright panache for its own sake
i’m a lonely bird of paradise searching through green stratums
my eyes are a pair of dice, flitting—never landing on the same place twice
the verve that i put into the verse is highly rehearsed
but only as good as you feel at your worst or you won’t listen still
rewind like a fishing reel
and see me trade in my equipment for a studio apartment in mission hill
made my pilgrimmage to the chilled limits of the blank abyss
and documented the excursion like the journals of robert scott
will i reinhabit this spot? probably not
‘cause the door to equilibrium is oddly unlocked
bet on a long shot and squandered the flock
looking at the big picture, thought: this gotta be cropped
true depression wore a villian’s mask
my approach: Dylanesque
shelter from the storm is positively hip hop
slinging science on writer’s block for twenty-twelve
written as the year when the pillar of money fell
in gold we trust
but ‘forced worship stincks in God’s nostrils’
i cast into the wilderness like roger williams was
and stumble on a providence impossible to fudge
denouncing practices that put sea otters into sludge
crying over spilled oil, drilling for our well-being
contemplating hell freezing
stay away from me
unified when the two colored keys no longer stand apart
but rather bounce arm in arm and melt your candle heart
bold and brazen as a vandal’s mark
still we offer up the message in the soft hands of art
as new man embarks upon lands to charter
i’ve learned it’s smarter to be a part instead of a prince
i’ve worked hard from the start
and ever since i shock the pessimists with stark benevolence
i examine myself in famine and health
and i know fear lurks in camo with stealth
but i never fall for its sport
for i shape the game like a mayan ball court
within i built a higher walled fort ‘case the fire roared forth
kept an eye toward the source of the iron horse exhaust
no service, couldn’t decline the call of the north
evaded the sprawl and the fall of the front porch
stay away from that field, suburbia!
get your hamster tunnels out of here, suburbia!
we do not want your styrofoam meat, flammable produce or zero percent juice
all-natural is hardly a truce
quit standing on that bison’s grave, suburbia!
move!
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3. |
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Original rap/poetry by Larry Montague. Copyright © 2012 Larry Montague. Permission required for reproduction.
"you are what you are"
thirty-three hundred years after pharaoh Akhenaten praised the sun god
we rally up for the solar revolution
a hip hop – Planet stewardship confluence
back to the heart, back to the land—it’s congruent
a bright future’s no place for crepuscular rhythm
feel the beat, far from discreet; a thumpin collision
wall street can’t corrupt the vision
they sign the checks but you sign the petition because (you are)
the youth that’s gonna reinvent simple
and excel outside of microsoft windows
so what’s the word?
everything but mum, we are anything but dumb
hardships unanchored, close friends become chum
corporate world’s not swell, they are for whom we toll the bell
in 2012 when the nots become undone
this is music for the movement
motivation for the new beat generation
before the dust settles
before the smoke bites the dust
before the angels descended from the heavens with a message to your brain from your soul from afar
you should already know—you are what you are
that little voice of truth up in your ear, hear me?
it’s that fire in your belly, don’t tell me that you don’t feel me
and if it ever seems like you’ve roamed a little far
no matter where you go, you are what you are
it’s that writing on the wall up in the hall, see me?
it’s that flow before the falls then the fall frees me
you can try to pick and choose but the truth is in your heart
no matter what you do, you are what you are
a couple owls chill above me in a cottonwood
unimpressed by a talon-less two-legged idealist that accepts the word waste
and it feels good to get the bird from nature
in any moment i’m a leading candidate for atonement
i scramble on the street and i fill the air with dinosaurs
rollin round on tree blood from the amazon
in grasses from the far east
and all of it assembled by hands i’ll never greet
i repeat and seemingly ramble on the beat
stretch the rules of rhyme so i can handle what i seek
i leave the keys and ponder the universe on foot
knowing every small step i take’s a quantum leap
who’s about to put the science out there?
them? no. not them? hmm, you’re gettin warmer like a polar bear
they’ll rap about their ice until the poles are bare
suddenly burst and we’ll feel it indirectly like a solar flare
we listen to a second-hand account about here from speakers over there
they cloud up the air between them and us with heady dust
sick beats bring us close, choking off their secondhand quotes
welcome the antidote, first hand anecdotes that reflect the public sentiment
can those panelist votes
i am what i am and it’s what i wrote
it’d be a drag to hear me blowin butt-smoke, so i don’t
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4. |
The Pain
04:05
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Original rap/poetry by Larry Montague. Copyright © 2012 Larry Montague. Permission required for reproduction.
"the pain"
‘read this note’ says the man in the black coat
wearing an angst that was born on a packed boat
the words gush from a drowned mouth in the deep end
he needs the root of all evil to absolve his demons
his hackneyed semblance screams feel me!
trying to get out of philly with the firm proof he hides below his sleeves,
and can’t leave in this bus station
he’s by the bathroom door pacin
‘come inside, i’ll show you the scars’
i tell him no need, ‘cause they’re apparent
his odd humility is fervent
a train slithers by looking like the plumed serpent
his pain solidifies what we confide with blind observance
we follow the lead who lead us astray
i offer charity without knowing for what i just paid
blamed if i enable him to live another day
rebels walk in dark clothes at night
and get enlightened in the headlights
till they’re dead right
if only i could be a fly on the face of a malnourished child
or a stray in a cage
third rock from the sun, third world from the treasure
the weakest parts feel the most pressure
the indirect effects we don’t measure
connect paychecks with sex for quick pleasure
men without knowledge of self stand on the edge with no self-esteem
toes dangled off the heath ledger
as a party jumps off in every manhattan night
club that chic in the head after slippin a small pill in her plastic
couple of creeps rob an old lady of her leather
personal information is stolen from your e-
male chauvinists, females aborting
kid’s networks are full of
shots of the virus
i keep an image of a safe world on the back side of my eyelids
trying to find silence while inside of a mindless world full of sirens
a man shivers in the cold of a burlington night
as girls strut by mockingly in skirts and faux fur
i lock eyes with him and he looks at me as though he watched me sleep
and heard me utter revealing words
sudden i feel the urge to feel nothing
people flinch as i expel this soul sickness of the rich
we rake in gifts and blow wishes off a fat cake
throw out clothes and set traps in the rat race
grace covers with a face full of plaster and paste
girls sit in empty tubs and try to bleed the ugly out of them
children fill their bodies at a faster pace
parents pray but these predators they can’t outrun
landscapes get defaced by disaster and waste
it’s the duty of this album to ask how come?
a salutary eighty years for seven billion
skyscrapers, more penicillin
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5. |
Reflection Overture
01:23
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Original rap/poetry by Larry Montague. Copyright © 2012 Larry Montague. Permission required for reproduction.
"reflection overture"
lower me down to yesterday
there was a moment when sneaking out of bed got easier
i used to sleep with an arm under and back around her
toward the end we faced where we headed—
in different directions
i’d abandon my post unnoticed when the beckoning sun of a new day shined through the gated window
i’d grab sara’s leash and she’d pop her head up from under the covers (laugh)
what a friend. she never cared where i was going, she just knew she wanted to go there too
as far as love—that was a story we never finished
i don’t know what i miss now
i must have missed it somewhere along that walk north
looking deep down off the edge of today, the memories are soft
it’s just a long fall to get to them
i could veer from it
but what good is a light if it doesn’t dance spontaneously?
or moths don’t fly into it and disintegrate?
i cool my face in the stream of consciousness
the moss on the banks carved by ferocious flood waters is as soft as the love we once knew
and watches things come and go as i do now
and saves all it has become from washing away
maybe it should send it off around the bend
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6. |
As I Reflect
04:07
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Original rap/poetry by Larry Montague. Copyright © 2012 Larry Montague. Permission required for reproduction.
"as i reflect"
there are dogs on the loose, ladies beware!
i need to wholly remove myself just to be here
but let’s be clear
inhibitions get fuzzy as piss gets clearer
regard slips further and groins grow nearer
i choose a player then i look in the mirror before i go out
any trace of me? (nope) good—i’m ready now
sighs have been scarce and so i’m on the prowl
can’t see the moon from here but i’m tryin’a get my howl on
i sway, dip, gulp, swallow my nerves that resurface
while world follows its urge
free, free birds that really sing
delerious, camoflauged by a stronger proof
corporeally curious
a legend of the night born out of a daytime doodle
many options, very little scruples
you’re riding that high horse into the ground, partner!
acting like you want to be your own martyr
electron drums, auto-tune OUT
and too much bass for the girls to be insulted proper
friday 10pm: lost cause walks in floatin
extra care on his outfit to make it look like he didn’t care at all
so smooth. joe cool. alpine attitute
(climate change will get him, too)
i chose myself now i’m singled out
memories are bubbles of the past and i see you’ve had your fingers out
you are no longer all i think about
just a mere silhouette of lengthwise warmth and pillow indent
i figured i had bellowed my intent with deep sacrifices, committments
tried to see the city for it’s cultural enrichment
but became deficient in the nutrients provisioned in a pitched tent
which meant i had to sally where that itch went
someone got rich off my rent—still don’t regret a cent spent
or any other sense i put into it
i stayed cool like an Inuit
i reminisce on how our first impetus rescinded to impotent
the wrenched predicment became perhaps a bit superfluous
drenched in brisk nervousness, i couldn’t resist picturing myself elsewhere
and there were no yells there
i hate the fact that we couldn’t let our immature love break through
but it takes two
i often wonder in shades of blue
about everywhere i wouldn’t have gone had i stayed with you
we never came true
the shallow waters of the mainstream and it’s fortifying banks
do not seem to afford me with steam, i dig below it
a feral rap/poet with a shoulder to the wheel
got respect ‘cause i told ‘em how i feel
cut the crap clear open at the heel twenty scores tunes ago
occupied a mindstate—no buhloones to blow
just began doing shows, try to summon up flows that run like a gooey nose
as i jog memory lane
acidic fog weathers the plane i sought
trains of thought follow depressions of species that left us
green-thumbed sketches of the precious tense
commense in breaths of newness (without hubris)
head never in a cumulus puff ‘cause i do not accumulate more stuff
assume i ain’t warmed up
i keep it quaint sho ‘nuff, discussion on top percussion
placid conversations about conservation
forever mild, technical, calm communication
free, over the counter culture interpretation
melodic jubilation incompatible with rap for capital
and those who bite the plastic apple
now i’m full
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7. |
Where Are You?
04:15
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Original rap/poetry by Larry Montague. Copyright © 2012 Larry Montague. Permission required for reproduction.
"where are you?"
my, where feet will fall between the school bus and half house
dumbed-out was cool to us
trying to fit the pants of men way in advance
young as people with the world in their hands
but old enough to be okay with a duller brain
an outlook full of rain, a mouthful of shameless mimicry
nameless actors aimed at backwards
flames and sacked herbs, burned in the chains
revealing the charred remains of a stainless pedigree
the folks they let it be, no home get fed and flee
afloat but heavy, into the smoke they settle
but the smoke won’t settle
so the folks don’t meddle
now the whole bunch is lost and tossed around the trip
until the one with the wheel exits or flips
when you’re driven by the light at the end of a pipe
even your best friends are never right
or anywhere in sight
they’re in life—where are you?
the founding of the cool guy, the rift between you and i
in twelfth grade i went to high school
you came to school high
slippin’ on a smooth slide, instead of takin’ notes in the classroom
it was tokes in the bathroom and jokes made the day zoom by
your guiding light was like the five senses to the mind
providing bright ascensions to the sky
your supply quenches the bind
first your mouth then your nose now into your vein in just two years time
it’s all fun until your friends get hurt
we should have been more alert
we could have been better friends, we should made our amends
why did we laugh at his blacked-out ass
when he was practically passed-out and he cracked that glass?
because i ask now means there’s something i regret
trouble i cannot accept
a postcard town with ugly secrets where hobbies turn to habits
athletes to addicts, and i’ve had it
when my friend made the front page of the paper
for sellin’ prescription pills he picked from his parents i took it personal
i’m not anti-pot, i know it’s perilous pull is personal
gateway, safe today
put some potent products on your palette, pal you won’t find a way out the gate
pinched potential—pull, poof, point proven
high is low, beer is eye-level
packs of pathogens purposely placed in close proximity to where you pay
a poor price for impaired pulmonary performance
poison takes the path that’s porous, pretty pictures implore us
i still remember your first party:
your friends were calling you a pussy and you were pounding PBRs
and they were pokin’ at your patience ‘til the pressure made you painless
and your puke made you famous—now you’re playing the part
there’s no pill for an ill that paralyzes the will, it’s still an issue
you’re still alive but we all miss you
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8. |
The Bright Side
03:32
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Original rap/poetry by Larry Montague. Copyright © 2012 Larry Montague. Permission required for reproduction.
"the bright side"
i heard the voice seven years ago now
and it told me to disseminate this unique sound
turned the radio off and haven’t tuned in since
compass dial pointed north and steadfastly retreating on a warming globe
used to care about footwear but always rapped for kicks
not a way to get rich or some slick wardrobe
simply medicating my mind and motivating the mass
with melodies from earlier times
and a myriad of smeary pads whorled into patterns like painted trillium
put me In my element like Indium
i’m so thankful to be young in the era of the sun-lit putsch
remember me as the one who woke up
remember us as the ones who won’t budge
the generation of the grit and the grunge
grandchildren of Gaia, too grounded to hold a grudge
toward our greed-stricken godfathers
too great to ever give up
what is borne in the dark must be tender and deep
i find the light, be it late, heavy or night
there’s a thin line between demented and inventive
if i ever told you anything i meant it
that moment of truth stirs up before it settles
i puncuate the paper, my clothes all disheveled
aimed high behind the blinds where i try to hide
awakened on the bright side
now I'm twenty-four, million words
still not about a buck—just trying to get myself heard
Dear Mr. John Muir,
in a life of peaks and valleys why’s the flow so dam impure?
i never told you this but i’m a little unsure
this passion that i put forth is not behind my every step
i wish my mind would let me rest
i wish the concept of healthy Earth wasn’t second best
i wish i’d never digress for this faulty sake of interest
like dig this and get into the groove of your carbon footprint
anything that could blow should vent
and my paper isn’t green so i’m hardly spent
here i go again
but this is why the story has an open end
why i chew my nails and pens instead of the butt end of a cigarette
i never told you this either—
i’m scared of all the chemicals i ate for twenty years
of all the things that go inside my ears and where that weight goes
what breaks down, and the mouth is the exit hole
no waste and no control
without a face whereabouts unknown, emotion unshown
future written over one-of-a-kind lines of a palm
and read of the screen of a phone
never alone, a pre-grown tree in a mulched bed for a bleak home
so i roam where nerves are intense
‘cause i’d rather know my enemy outright than have to suspect 300 friends
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9. |
Not Affluent
03:50
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Original rap/poetry by Larry Montague. Copyright © 2012 Larry Montague. Permission required for reproduction.
"not affluent"
hop off the bus, drop my books—now it’s time to learn
i put in work for the credit that is hard to earn
and dwell in realms not connected by a hallway
i thought about this beat all day
when i was younger i was cool with buildin blubber as i hit the couch
thinkin ‘bout a pretty chic and how to unzip the blouse
then i plugged the headphones in and took the mic out its pouch
and though i went on hiatus i was never in doubt
‘cause i am dead without this outlet
i let out the rage and learned reliance was the key to get out the cage
stuck harmony and harm on the same page
and grew into my stage name before i hit the tender age of twenty
think i care at all about money? that’s funny
i’ve never known dead presidents to uphold your rights
i say whatever and rhyme on straight loops, fuck it
i’m gonna pour it on before i kick the bucket
fresh brew, thick and unfiltered
a lyricist who be in the wilderness—it’s got you bewildered
revitalized 4/4 time, this is two brothers coming from the right angle
complementing one another
and though the net cost of life piles up
we serve this racket simply for the love
oh well, another story to tell
rapper-guy took a trip and settled right where he fell
in grade school i never really learned to type very well
so discover what’s under that funky-colored marble cover
i’m a lover of wonder and what’s a big dharma bummer
is going against the grain like a saw cut through hardwood lumber
so i try to go with the flow
the difference is i make my own flow and travel below in the muck
and i’m the only one here. aw shucks...but i open ears
so if you’re looking for a big-faced watch full of rocks
you should watch someone else rap ‘cause this is not that
this is a rebellious ploy to bring hip hop back
how are we doing with that?
with no allusion to a fortune or fame
we join those rich in zeal to end the corporate reign
get in tune, i’m so down i turn the track blue
so i wrote this while i’m walkin’ down the avenue
with rhymes so wild they call my notepad the jungle book
speakin’ my mind is just an itch i gotta scratch like baloo
the bear necessities are all i can approve
i ignore the glitz ‘cause my interests are not in orbit
boredom makes absorbent kids a market
they haven’t got a clue ‘cause they don’t make an app for it
i’ma slap corporate execs, get the poor people vexed
put pens in their hands and watch the corners connect
a complex intellect perplexed by a world that breaks up in a text
what is love? whoa, hold up. this is when i blow up
get real uncool and throw up this cluttered-mind-muttered-rhyme flow stuff
hop on a bus and head left
get high off of beats and go deaf ‘cause i don’t know my limits
and sometimes i forget to take a breath
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10. |
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Original rap/poetry by Larry Montague. Copyright © 2012 Larry Montague. Permission required for reproduction.
"heavy wings that fly"
it’s hard just being you
you gotta be that everyday
your best friends hate when you’re not happy
you need a reason why you feel this way, come on, explain
you have to be the one in the rain with a big smile on his face
well, the weight’s just too much now
the sad clown’s out sick today
the worst part about being a loner is that no one looks for you
they finally respect you
they finally let you be
they are the noise
and you are where the birds go when it’s too windy to stare into space
making darker what you cannot erase
behind-the-screen love is not what i be about
i gotta be twice the man just to even out
if she knew me like i know me would i even doubt?
i doubt it, as i commit to go the steeper route
i use the melody to court her so i puff it out
walk by her door so many times that i lost count
tossed out letters that returned to sender, feeling off-centered
know i’d offer much better if i sprung from comfort with the heavy wings that fly
whoa whoa whoa whoa
and as i turn the page i turn away
i felt it wasn’t worth it just to turn into a person that i’d barely know
and probably grow to hate
but smiles motivate
i was fallin’ for her coolness—she was not your average snowflake
it’s got my mind open late
wish that i could just take it slow and wait
but these feelings that i harbor make a friendship overweight
we’d sink before we even get off shore, i’m sure
if i wait it out then i’ll be okay
tellling her now would just make it worse
i’m not living up to who i’m supposed to be
but who i am now is the one that works
i’m sort of old-fashioned
i mean old like before we were scored on our fashion
before computer comments destroyed the compassion
before the future’s promise was just what these children could imagine
i’ll forgo the super conquest to see the world over
to share a walk with a woman that i won over
leave prints that connect the dots of the web
add one or two to our nest and all stroll forward
though this puts me on a flimsy limb
without a choice i find the confidence within
without a choice i find the confidence within myself and it helps
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11. |
The Musician
04:47
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Original rap/poetry by Larry Montague. Copyright © 2012 Larry Montague. Permission required for reproduction.
"the musician"
i thumb into the atmosphere with sounds that grab for your ears
without retort, most my cohort is grabbing for beers
but with determination
i bend my lyrics 'cross the sky like mental murmuration
i earned the space in which i occupy healthy with my pal mic
new democracy—was does it sound like?
traipse on a wooded path, but march on the pavement with a look of wrath
'cause they want to frack fractions for a feuldal half with their crooked math
a fuel source to get us nowhere; a pipe with more oil for us
we bore holes into the boreal forest
and blow it out like there's no other way
we need it like the weekend needs another day
i'm hip to their gimmicks but immanently hypocritic
critical of myself and what i'm worth; my pulse echoes that of the earth's
an artist is what he's into—alive in his work
i lift the shade on the pain and you see through the window
this isn’t what i dreamed about when i was younger
the time is right now—hush the rain with the thunder
either get in the groove or get out the way
music is the way i make a change, watch the bodies sway
now i have a lot to say
this won’t be the one that got away—i promise me that
come all, listen. this jazz brew is what the casual listener’s missin’
it’s audible ambition for a perennial mission
sure is, and now i write to the beat with one earphone in
zonin'—is the musician right here?
pen alighted on sequestered carbon with an arm in too many things
and two helpings of hands, lose my stress with my fingernails
have an idea, but can't decide where i'm gonna put it
doubt provides fear with a place to hide
self-confidence mantra be: ‘you're good this way’.
like i'm riding shotgun and my side's clear
driven—i am what i create: a [beat]
feet happily flap on a mountain like Japhy
and i am what i'm into, litter go-getter
check the weather, collect feathers
reflect on whether i made the best so i can get better
the musician—a voice for an instrument
but intrinsically hip with simple scripts that fit, listen
so i stir it up
the mumbling musician’s on a quest to bring the seed to fruition
hey how’s being an environmentalist a distinct recognition?
‘cause if you love the planet say HELL YEAH
right on, and as i write on
i wonder why i flip the kitchen light on in the middle of the day when the sun’s out
how far have we swayed in this game we have to play?
i turn my music up but now instead i turn my energy the same way
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12. |
A Single Plane (Instr.)
03:43
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13. |
Write On (The Action)
04:00
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Original rap/poetry by Larry Montague. Copyright © 2012 Larry Montague. Permission required for reproduction.
"write on"
i tell him meet me in the morning
i’ll be up with the birds eatin raisin bran yawnin
dip in my brush to paint the tree tops in autumn
gettin a rush like everything i see is awesome
click to mtv on the tube, there’s kids swarmin
tryin’a be cool just like the Earth ‘cause it’s warmin
we used to play hoops at the church, my friend’s mormon
now i use beats to retreat—they give me shelter when it’s stormin
my teacher said spell the word right ‘else you don’t get credit
so i imbed it in my head, memorize it then forget it from one to the next second
eventually reappears as a sentence in this record
but if i never said it i bet it just wastes effort
rememberin letters instead of a better-placed method
thinkin ain’t certain; certain is the searchin
so get outside and live it up—quit workin
whether you’re creepin on facebook or got your face in a book
notice that it differs in the space between
the front door and yourself, full throttle your health
it’s cliche—don’t follow your dreams
send ‘em threats, stalk ‘em day and night
‘til they know you’re here to fight for your rights and your light
‘cause you can’t imagine what would happen if they turned up absent
you’d be absent minded
in a world where degrees are gold, that’s your path to find it
although perhaps math class just seems mindless
they give you x, y’s unknown—like please find this
i x it out then write ‘y we gotta find this?’
if i take a test, why you gotta time it?
if i don’t staple my five-page paper you won’t take her
even though i wasted a sunny saturday to make her?
i don’t hate her, that’s just how the line swings
but i’ll burn this building down if she don’t give me my stapler
thomas jeff—he penned ‘all men created equal’
while he owned chained people, whipped and mad feeble
man is that evil
the only thing we’re equal in is how we treat others like foes and not brothers
we’ll sink six feet with souls that got smothered
sold, lost and never resdiscovered
animals will thrive and the trees will be live
and big birds will fly free in the sky without thousands of jets
how can i envision the demise of my own race
where many are tainted like the times bonds touched homeplate?
know faith, no fate—life is all that we got
we know positive’s good, we know negative’s not
but you need both at the basic levels of matter to form bonds
we destroy ours by holdin arms
pointin ‘em essentially at ourselves
locked behind bars, convicted and charged
that’s chemically balanced
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14. |
Travel Proem
02:33
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Original rap/poetry by Larry Montague. Copyright © 2012 Larry Montague. Permission required for reproduction.
"travel proem"
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15. |
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Original rap/poetry by Larry Montague. Copyright © 2012 Larry Montague. Permission required for reproduction.
"the four trips"
i was veiled for twenty-some-odd years
shielded from the ills in the seat of my high chair
listen, i never questioned if my comfort was perpetual
until my first passing sight shattered all i ever knew
as i traveled through town i saw a man on a bench
alone—void of friends, full of regrets
face wrinkled, hunched over, cold hurt
people said ‘look at him, he’s old as dirt’
as i watched his hands quiver and felt my warm flesh get flush
i thought: what’s the difference between us?
a voice said that man is you
you’ve always been one in the same
same thread as the sun and the rain, i thought
now the truth seems withered and worn
it offered you itself when you were born
the skies aligned in a curious way
they came from the hills and you shunned what you heard them say
you never put your faith in the words of people
you trust in the river and trees to teach you
the lotus and seekers of its path beseech you (me too)
i chewed on this image for a little while
but had sweet indulgence shoved down my throat
truthfully, i didn’t much resist it
and when i floated off a bit, bliss shut the lid
until, on my very next sojourn, i saw a bald little girl
and felt a burn—the grief that i had to learn
a face too sweet, an anguish unearned
i watched as the heads of the people turned like ‘poor her’
in her eyes was nothing i could picture in mine
doors to a candid body designed to work fine
i felt trapped, but knew i couldn’t even really feel that
confined to this tenuous illusion of time, i thought
stranded between cancer and the answer
i began to get perturbed by the songs and the dancers
an imprudent sketch seemed to mock scenes i couldn’t forget
and everytime i closed my eyes, back there i went
on my third tour outside the castle walls
i came across a poor mother who had it all taken from her
she said her son was an Indian farmer, indebted for his GMOs
he watched his field recede farther
so he swallowed pesticide and died owing less than i squander without bother
how much food do i throw away?
if i only knew a soul’d be saved, i thought
the dim light turned my palace to a dungeon
reflecting off the gold like it’d rather not touch it
i try to push the panic away but it’s not budgin
i’m not fit to suffer these woes is my presumption
been given all i got, it’s left me with no gumption
piled goods atop a bad foundation and it sunk in
and i decided i would bury it
so on my fourth trip out i hopped off the chariot
pressed on the ground where the dolor was found
and through the glow i could barely see a man with an aura of solidarity
poised like a tree, ready for the brunt of the wind
threadbare but digging deep for something to give
i said nothing to him
just smiled like i knew him
his contemplative gaze gave me function to live
through the still eyes of suffering
i realized the true nature of every thing
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