.:nonverbal communication:.

... i’m open to falling from grace ...

take me down, 6 underground,
the ground beneath your feet,
laid out low, nothing to go
nowhere a way to meet
i’ve got a head full of drought,
down here, so far off, losing out
round here,

overground, watch this space,
i’m open to falling from grace

calm me down, bring it round
too way high off your street
i can see like nothing else
in me you’re better than i wannabe
don’t think ’cos i understand,
i care, don’t think ’cos i’m talking we’re friends,

overground, watch this space,
i’m open to falling from grace

talk me down, safe and sound
too strung up to sleep
wear me out, scream and shout
swear my time’s never cheap
i fake my life like i’ve lived
too much, i take whatever you’re given
not enough,

overground, watch this space,
i’m open to falling from grace

Posted by tipster at 08:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

... now roll up your sleeves for this lyrical treat ...

I always hit the tape with the rough road styles
You heard the psychdelic and ya came from miles
Keep my rhymes thick like a Guinness brew
So you could call me black and tan when I'm a wreckin' a crew
I'm like Bill Lee writing when he's in Tangiers
And now I'm on a soul safari with my Beatnik peers
Analog reel and a little distortion
Smokin' on somethin' s'you could say I'm scorchin'     (Smokin' on suckers... ?)
I never been the type to brag but beware
I'll make a man burn his draft card like it was Hair
Send ya up the river like you lookin' for Kurtz
I got the mugwump jism up in every verse
 
I always hit the apple when I'm going to shoot
So you can call me William Tell or Agent Cooper to boot
Mr. Mojo Risin' on the case again
So tell your mother and your sister and your sister's friends
Like an exterminator running low on dust
I'm bug powder itchin' and it can't be trussed
Interzone trippin' and I'm off to Annexia
I gotta get a typewriter that's sexier     (...tight bite of dyslexia?)
My name is Justin and that's all that's it
And I'll be spittin' rhymes wicked like it ain't for this shit
Houses of the Holy like Jimmy Page
But the song remains the same so I'm stuck in a rage
Just like Jane when she's going to Spain
I think I'm going away tomorrow, just a fool in the rain
Light up the candles and bless the room
I'm paranoid, snow blind, just a black meat fool
 
Bug powder dust an' mugwump jism
And the wild boys runnin' 'round Interzone trippin'
Letter to control about the Big Brother
Try like hard to not blow my cover
 
Never been a fake and I'm never phony
I got more flavour than the packet in macaroni
Rock drippin' from my every vowel
I've got the soul of the sixties like Ginsberg's Howl
Shootin' mad ball and I'm always jukin'
Take you to the hole and I'm surely hoopin'
Top of the pops like the Lulu's show
I'll take a walk on Abbey Road with my shoes unsoled     (..shoes off, so)     (...shoes of soul?)
I got a splinter though, damn, you know man it hurt
I got a Vegemite sandwich from Men at Work
I keep minds in line, but time sublimes,
So when you search you find something like a gold mine
A psychadelic meanderings in the poem
I got a patter, patter anyplace that I roam
Waiting for the sun on a Spanish caravan
Solar eclipse and I'm feeling like starin' man
 
Who's that man in the windowpane
Got somethin' on his tongue and it's startin' to stain
Sho' nuff equip so wop n'get down
Step up on my ladder and you'll get beat down
Hash bar style so I'm singin' day glow
Wakin' up the dead like Serpent and the Rainbow
Jeff Spicoli roll me another hay
The Fish that Saved Pittsburgh with Dr. J
Shockin' your ass like a faulty vibrator
Hear me now, but you'll probably get the vibe later
Who knows where the wicked wind blows
Que sera sera just leave it alone
Great Space Coaster toast up the town (?????)
Makin' midgets with my man Dr. Shrinker
Pass the hookah, throw down the pillows
Cloth on the ceiling, blow rings that billow
Kick off the shoes and relax your feet
Now roll up your sleeves for this lyrical treat

Posted by tipster at 07:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

... hey, yo, dj bless the crowd with the sign of the cross fader ...

it's been long years gone since we rocked the linoleum
blastin the breakin boom box open, posin
in the most awkward e-boy stance you can imagine
grabbed the mike, traded my back spin for rappin

back when the sinners danced, dancers were listeners
answers to call and response, chants ridiculous
pants demanded saggin, never bigger than our britches
but the britches burned
britches were scratch

our sins were repented for, much later
hey, yo, dj bless the crowd with the sign of the cross fader
in time we'd find ways to refine the mind
at the same time the heart articulating mind

i think it's amazing kids are waiting outside
habitually to sit in solidatity of this ritual
see, each indivdual reach out
speak to teach the invisible how to be invincible

with
motion, movement
architects, blueprints
showin, provin
teachers, students
reachin for truth in a self revolution
the roof is fire
what's your solution?

motion, movement
architects, blueprints
showin, provin
teachers, students
reachin for truth in a self revolution
the roof is fire
what's your solution?

this be the sum of love plus one
mold breakin, soul searchin'
my carriage is my feets
on points and hella deep like sea urchins
indeed be certain, proceed to test your reflex
knee jerkin
hit it behind the curtain on stage
burnin' inside with rage
re-wrote the script with my voice inside of the page
i've decided the ways previously paved
for me to walk will never see me
nor my footprints
i stalk in the nighttime of i and i (??)
hands to the sky like the clock at midnight
convinced of my demise concluded that
the crowd throws their hands in the air
because the sky is fallin'
no one else seems to care

i want a piece of the pie
not a generous share
how can i possiblty prove
my intentions are bare
i'm just a word and a rhyme
and kick and a snare
swimming in ink wells so fine
that my spirit is there
but you can find me
inside of a pen waiting to burst
drowning in a resovoiur qwenching my thrist
my first love, second home
was my headohones
first time i wrote what i felt cuz i said so
so
unless there's any protest, allow me to begin
the well is never deep enough to wash away the sin
so i drop it on the one, my toungue be the drum
beating meaning to the beat to the beat we become

motion, movement
architects, blueprints
showin, provin
teachers, students
reachin for truth in a self revolution
the roof is fire
what's your solution?

...sucker...

Posted by tipster at 08:32 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

on the right side of the snapshot below, you can see the feet of a 'sleeper'.

Posted by tipster at 07:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

...i think it's kinda cool at one point that you thought you had a chance...

microphone check 1-2

i'm a blue scholar worker

studing the art of labor to create
flavor to relate to listeners
alleviate the danger associated with strangers

isn't strange how we estrange
ourself from our neighbor?

enables us through music to connect
release some fluids in our neck
with the rythmic forward movement of our heads
and back again

indeed as we succeed the pioneers
maybe give back
all that we've been takin through the years
i bleed
for what i believe to be the truth
nurturing the seed planted in the fertile youth
the poetry hanging from the branches with the fruit
but the most succulent is the sucker for the truth

so what's up with you
frequently they ask
been hibernatin
right until the last page
cypherin the past days
bye
bypassing the lies and the bullshit
get up off the mike and save it for the pulpit

blue school
class is session
ask us a question
cuz class is in session

in the blue school
class is session
ask us a question
cuz class is in session

i'm an exile
motherland stepchild
metropolis dwellin middle-america's
prisoner of war

combat the paper
until the blankness is gone
listen now talk about the beat after the song

astronomical cus that is just the modest measurement
of my ability to repesent my family correct
cuz i be about it
ain't no other way to say it
discovered my potential when i stayed late to tape it
in the basement with an ancient karoke stereo
in leiu of a studio
we made due with everythin'
laying around
and if i'm not mistaken isn't that improvisation
what hip hop is all about?

if you're popin at the lip then i will sock you in the mouth
sonically to render you the opposite of loud
apology accepted in advance
i think it's kind of cool at one point that you thought you had a chance

in the blue school
class is session
ask us a question
cuz class is in session

a veteran's fate written on pages of mixed tapes
i'm all about a government that citizens dictate
sick of f***** dealin with the president's mistakes
to sit back and rant is just mis-placed anger

so i cradle
pens
from now until the fable ends
takin friends for granted
but now i've got to make amends
callin out the big talk, small walkin coward
high above the ground, yo, we're shakin down your towers
and demandin our money back
plus reimbursement for parkin and shit
i put my heart in this shit
and now my arteries connect to the amplifier wire
music make the flames in my inner fire higher
i re-invent the language in the image of a dancer
contorting where the floor becomes an answer
blue school graduate, dawg
after this last verse, when the revolution comes
we're gonna shoot your ass first

in the blue school
class is session
ask us a question
cuz class is in session

class is in session, ask us a question
give us suggestions

yo, strap for protection
whatever you do, whatever you say
step up front, be good at what you do
at least be good at something

writin', readin', producin', d-jaying, cooking, cleaning, doing laundry...something
learn art, a trade, be somebody

in the blue school, class is in session

Posted by tipster at 05:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Posted by tipster at 07:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

q-tip rapping on rem's latest

a man walks away
when every muscle says to stay

"the outsiders"

you took me to the restaurant where we first met
you knocked a future shock crowbar upside my head
i got caught with the stop of the tick-tock, tick-tock clock
when you told me what you knew

lost in the moment
the day that the music stopped
and i do remember you

drawing patterns with a cork on the tablecloth
promising volcanic change of plot
where will this lead us - i'm scared of the storm
the outsiders are gathering, a new day is born

i tried to tell you i am not afraid
you looked up and saw it all across my face
so am i with you or am i against
i don't think it's that easy - we're lost in regret

now i'm trying to remember
the feeling when the music stopped
when you told me what you knew

lost in the moment
the day that the music stopped
and i do remember you

drawing patterns with a cork on the tablecloth
promising volcanic change of plot
where does this leave us - i'm scared of the storm
the outsiders are gathering, a new day is born

drawing patterns with a cork on the tablecloth
promising volcanic change of plot
where does this leave us - i'm scared of the storm
the outsiders are gathering, a new day is born

the outsiders are gathering, a new day is born
the outsiders are gathering

a man walks away when every muscle says to stay
how many yesterdays - they each weigh heavy
who says what changes may come?
who says what we call home?
i know you see right through me, my luminescence fades
the dusk provides an antidote, i am not afraid
i've been a million times in my mind
this is really just a technicality, frailty, reality

uh, it's time to breathe, time to believe
let it go and run towards the sea
they don't teach that, they don't know what you mean
they don't understand, they don't know what you mean
they don't get it, i wanna scream
i wanna breathe again, i wanna dream
i wanna float a quote from Martin luther King
i am not afraid
i am not afraid
i am not afraid

i am not afraid
i am not afraid
i am not afraid
i am not afraid

Posted by tipster at 06:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Posted by tipster at 07:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Posted by tipster at 07:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Posted by tipster at 07:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

at work and courtsey of deschutes brewery in bend, ore.

i have a back log of photos and lyrics to post.

Posted by tipster at 07:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

despite the 'school night' jenn and i went to see brazilian girls at chop suey. well, we didn't see the band but we did have a good time and a good chat.

a couple of snapshots from the evening...

pike place market, just after closing

chop suey

walking around first hill

Posted by tipster at 11:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)