Untimely Meditations by Saul Williams

The fiery sun of my passions evaporates the love lakes of my soul
clouds my thoughts and rains you into existence as i take flight on
bolts of lighting claiming chaos as my concubine and you as my me i of
the storm you of the sea we of the moon land of the free what have i
done to deserve this? am i happy? happiness is a mediocre sin set for
a middle-class existence i see through smiles and smell truth in the
distance beyond one dimensional smiles and laughter lies are hereafter
where tears echo laughter you’d have to do math to divide a smile by a
tear times fear equals mere truth. i simply delve in the air and if that’s
the case, all i have to breath and all else will follow, that’s why drums
are hollow, and i like drums drums are good but i cant think straight i
lack the attention span to meditate my attention spans galaxies here
and now are immense seconds are secular, moments are mine, self is
illusion, music’s divine. noosed by the strings of jimmy’s guitar i swing
purple hazed pendulum hypnotizing the part of i that never dies, look
into my eyes are the windows of the soul. it’s fried chicken collies and
cornbread, its corn milk flour sour cream eggs and oil. its the stolen
blood of the earth, used to make cars run and kill the fish. who me? i
play scales. the scales of dead fish of oil slicked seas my sister blows
wind through the hollows of fallen tress and we are the echoes of
eternity, echoes of eternity, echoes of eternity maybe you heard of us,
we do rebirths, revokes and resurrections we threw basement parties in
pyramids, i left my tag on the wall, the beats would echo of the stone
and solidify into the form of light bulbs, destined to light of the heads
of future generations they’re releasing it up in the form of ohm. Maybe
you heard of us. If not then you must be trying to hear us, in such
cases we can’t be heard we remain in the darkness unseen, in the
center of unpeeled bananas we exist uncolored by perception, clothed
to the naked eye, five senses cannot sense the fact of our existence
and that's the only fact, in fact there are no facts, fax me a fact and i’ll
telegram i’ll hologram i’ll telephone the son of man and tell him he is
done. leave a message on his answering machine telling him there are
none. god and i are one. times moon times star times sun, the factor is
me, you remember me, i slung amethyst rocks on saturn blocks ‘til i
got caught up by earthling cops. they wanted me for their army or
whatever. picture me, i swirl like the wind tempting tomorrow to be
today, tiptoing the fine line between everything and everything else. i
am simply saturn swirling sevenths through sooth the sole living air of
air and I, and, and all else follows. reverberating the space inside of
drum hollows. package and bottles and chips and tomorrow then sold
to the highest nigga. i swing to the tallest tree, lynched by the lowest
branches of me, praying that my physical will set me free cause i’m
afraid that all else is vanity mere language is profanity, i’d rather hum
or have my soul tattooed to my tongue and let the scriptures be sung
in gibberish as words be simple fish in my soulquarium. and intellect
can’t swim so i stopped combing my mind so my thoughts could lock.
i’m tired of trying to understand. perceptions are mangled matted and
knotted anyway. life is more than what meet the eye and I, so elevate I
to the third and even that shit seems absurb and your thoughts leave
you third (eye)solated. no man is an island but i often feel alone, so i
find peace through OM.