Writer's Block

by Dumsaint Spex

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I had writer’s block, smashed the grey cinder
Flame to the cess, let the weed sesh simmer
As the hash thoughts flicker, smoke clouds blown thicker
Snare drums pounce on my nerve tendons quicker than a
Cheetah in heat, claws at your carnassials
A carnival of carnivores claiming to be radicals
More like right-winged federals. Freedom? It’s a
One winged cardinal, flapping for the skies; landlocked
Life is all, no stopping the tock
There’s no snooze on my death clock
Let the sweat ooze through your dreadlocks
Let the screws loose in your neck slots
Wheels carve smooth to the next spot
Feet on the plank like I’m walking the deck
Scalliwag skate-rat with an Obey snap
Piff nose hits ‘till the spliff pape splits
Catch me on the asphalt, weaving through whips

Not squeezing grips, merely gripping the hips
Of ladies lipstick staining the butt-end of a zig
Legs long like rexes, I get head like I'm neckless
Flip the cross, I'm sect-less and street swerving
Making rides switch lanes as curses they shout
Screaming skate life ‘till I’m spitting bloody teeth out
Properly living, no shanks, no skanks
Blow dank through bongs then spoof, no stank
I’m a recruit, no rank, blowing minds, no tank
I never draw clips, not even blanks
Pushed zips up and down Bucktown like a winter jacket
My rhyme flow makes jaws low, Satan’s casket
Seizing similes while cruising four-sets
Fluent in each octave, I’m a solo quartet
Haters refer to me, superlative wack
Let them jump on the track, you’ll hear it: traction


released November 4, 2011
bars: luc
production/doubles: cam



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Dumsaint Spex Bolton, Ontario

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