table
• Written by KoncreteSurfer
Let me take you back in time in this autograph chop shop
Whether you scratch your name or a big dot, its your visual Hip-Hop
Lock and key wrought, scratched on the roundtop,
hist'ry onslaught, make your brain pop, and it don't stop
See there's stories everywhere if you'd just open your eyes
Get rid of your matador taking away life's biggest prize
better get wise, realize that perception's one of your allies
So get your head out out of your ass,
what you'll grasp just might light the night skies
Like here's one, looks so old the ink's chippin
shaky hand on the key from a long night of sippin
trippin, and if you fall, get submerged in the stories you're wishing
Like Cusak and Beckinsdale, serendipitous living
A big round table, covered with notes of Christmas past
Ebeneezer vandaleezed her left us agog and aghast
its a tedious task, but gives you reason bask
in the pertinence and permanence of the carving you've cast
See this table's just a gateway to the wider meaning fable
Whose message it is: give into bliss, of that I'm sure you're able
When life deceives, the legs beneath might not seem very stable
But to doubt the table leaves you incapable of being grateful
Set your focus high, to reel in the little things
like red bull it gives you wings, sometimes so good it stings
We waste our days, take life for granted like kings
with drawers full of bling, but only wears a few rings
So notice the subtleties, don't live for currencies
Just grab a matchbox, and your slap-box, and seek out anomalies
Anthologies, vibrantly. making artful statements silently.
searching through the fantasies of your fellow Ham Families
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About the Artist
KoncreteSurfer
Member since April 2 2014