j a c k 's . m i c . c h e c k 
        - for Mr. Jack Kerouac -

testing, testing, 1...2...mic check one...test
essence, it means
essence ain't the butter bees
 ain't breath
  or recess
or intros to Pharisees
like electronic translators
that can't translate for shit
because they don't know the language
to which humans submit
    
       essence, it means
       culture is free
essence is evolving
but we plan it to be
testing...testing...one two three...

no world underneath 
that ivory tower
left salty and scared
sedated, unprepared
for essence
 is essence
 is is
 is

essence that whispers distant
lullabies that scream in silence
that pound with violence
essence, it seems
ain't the rollin sandstorms
of Mexico City Blues
some essence comes for me
when i stand in my own shoes

or someone else's, for that matter
as long as i'm still standing.

and i seen the secret 
but i can't see me

lacking reflections of my
inner perceptions now i
know that your mirror's broken
but mine promised to be a
two-way street

so one gaze gets to linger
just a little longer
while the other wonders about 
a loose lock of hair
on the other side
twirling as if earnest
  honest
in its essence

and i can't stop rhyme 
and i can't stop reason

and i can't stop rhyme 
and i can't stop reason

and i can't stop essence
and i can't--

      testing
      testing.
      check three...
    two...
  one.






Copyright © May 20, 1999 Angel Artistries. All rights reserved.