Track 1

A Poem by John Chuck

Rap with a poetic, spoken-word vibe.

Internally a furnace and the cold front used to hide it
is really just a curtain used to cover what’s inside him
so on the outside he appears to be quiet
disguised as an island with a temperate climate
he’s a cumulo-nimbus, a “choose-to-be” shy kid
never in the stratus, not a wannabe pilot
who call themselves “fly” till they invert the horizon
and nosedive into blue, but not the kind the sky is
so he’s done playing games with snakes who go by Simon
and friends who jump bridges just to see if he’ll try it
if it’s “monkey see, monkey do” he’d rather be a blind chimp
than a chimp with sight that can’t see he’s just like them
connected to his neck is a beehive where his mind is
pollinating inspiration as words colonize it
and eyelids cover eyes as rhymes preoccupy him
so in crowded hallways he can still buzz in private

Buzz, buzz, bees in my head
This beehive is connected to my neck
I’d love, love to leave it where it’s at
the sting aint that bad till the bees get mad

His thought process is a by-product of things that don’t mix well
his mind's a mixture of acronyms and eggshells
deficits, disorders, pain-pills and brain cells
broke his neck and bumped his head this hunchback can’t ring bells
but he does the best he can with the cards he was dealt
solitarily this joker’s playing cards by himself
placing bets on the table and dust on the shelf
it’s been a while since the ring so he dusts off the belt
and it's too tough to tell from his bruises and welts
if it’s worth gaining wealth when he’s losing his health
making play-dates with peter piper and the she that sells shells
asking how he works the wordplay but magicians don’t tell

seldom does he ask the dictionary for help

because it doesn't have words for the feelings he's felt
so this serial pen killer often scribbles lines out
but it’s the price you gotta pay before your time’s out

Buzz, buzz, bees in my head
This beehive is connected to my neck
I’d love, love to leave it where it’s at
the sting aint that bad till the bees get mad