Then Ask Zen

What up.  Lets do this.

Sick of commercial rap?  Try...

Two of my favorite emcees, Slug of Atmosphere,

and Murs, of Murs, and one of the best

DJ/producers, Ant, teaming up to fill a void

I never knew existed.  To put it bluntly, they all go

together like peas and carrots.  And they

basically formed on a whim, which is dopeness at its finest.

Name:  Felt

Artists: Slug, Murs,

Ant Albums: Tribute to Lisa Bonet, Tribute to Christina Ricci

Dropped: 2005 I think

Linkage: Felt  

Oh and Happy Halloween

“The most Important thing”

A bad day,

You know ‘em.

They can sneak up on you.

Unless you fancy yourself to have,

Luck similar to mine,

Where every day you wake,

Waiting for the proverbial ball to drop,

Every day waiting for the phone to ring,

Every day discovering just how much silence,

Can Echo through halls.

A bad day,

When a stranger, perhaps the one you just passed,

Could walk, in a straight line,

Up to you

Rear back and slap you,

Clean from ear to nose,

And then as quickly as they emerged, fade…

And you wouldn’t question this stranger

Because it would fit.

The slap would, on this day, in this lifetime, make more sense

Than any other thing in this world.

Because today…like most days

Has no semblance of greatness, nor terror,

Just another bad day.

Just another day in the three years sentenced to this prison,

Sentenced may not be the word, but in these times

Creative liberty is needed

Because I have not been held in three years.

And that is what I need,

And that is all I ask for.

And that is why my neighbors hear me laughing every morn

Because even I don’t take myself seriously anymore.

And oh I play my part, I am kind, I wear the make-up, I even flirt

But I have a bad addiction to the unattainable,

Seriously, every man I have approached in the last three years

Has had a girlfriend, wife, fiancé, I mean shit

What am I supposed to do?… “Nothing…” Exactly…

At least I know they are not commitment phobes right?

At least I pick the caliber of man I am looking for…

(But apparently assholes are the only ones capable

Just to give me what I need,

Just for one night.)

And Yes, I am beautiful,

Maybe not to you, and maybe not to that guy over there,

But to me, why yes I am.

I have discovered the most important thing

And that is this:

My version of crazy is just enough,

Just enough to keep this life,

No matter how barren,

Just enough to keep it interesting,

Just enough,

Just enough that I can still buckle ‘n slip over the tears,

And fall into laughter.

And that is the most important thing…

And that is all that truly matters…

-Zen

We here at Then Ask Zen hope you get to have your cake and eat it too!!

Zen and T Love ya!!

“Lament of Unrequited Love Under a New Moon”

I can’t stop running through hypotheticals.

My muscles ache, but my determination eats clean through the lactic acid,

and I feel no pain.

My soul wants to devour your body,

like my body wants to devour your soul.

I hear music that attempts to distract:

But this one track I’m on, I just can’t get off,

no, I can’t get off anymore.

Life just doesn’t do it for me like it used to:

it is time for a change.

(but who? in the what? at the why? to the when? and the where?

Not to mention: how?)

Introspective/Retrospective hauntings of your face,

follow me everywhere.

And I think I’ve got it beat, until I turn that corner,

and my mind says…maybe…just maybe….

you will be there,

waiting on the other side.

(I commence to internally providing

an ass whooping to my wandering mind.)

Is this my life?

I need to get away…

I need to fly…I need to swim…I need to dance…

I need…a release from this planetary…this so utterly human

want,  need,  curiosity.

The night sky never lies under a new moon.

I look at my stars, and one winks at me.

They have seen my soul before.

For centuries I have looked upon these stars searching for it;

desperately scanning and re-scanning each and every flicker:

as if my answer is there, eluding me.

And I feel ok to be alone amongst them.

They are as infinitesimally irrelevant as I am to this earth,

            and I am aware,

but I still feel, and so I think, they must feel too.
Because the secrets we tell in our blank stares is enough.

Enough to get me through, just for tonight

“Out damned spot; out”

Ashes flow from her mouth

Parched,

Caking with minute moisture

Her eyes scratch with sand

Between the lids tearing, cutting, blood.

Acid in her cauldron burns and bubbles,

Eating away the living, slowly rising, smoke.

Flesh reluctantly, forcibly, eating flesh.

Deliverance…

Shining a light above her.

A tattoo shows her

the mutilator of spirits.

A spear from behind

Tears up and into

An unwelcoming fissure.

Sand cutting as lids clamp together.

A separation of self and soul.

Screaming makes more ashes.

Wishing one could make the others stop.

It burn, it burns, it burns.

Stress, triss, her mind was playin tricks on her

In another reality she could be out

Ridin around town.

There is no preparation for a sitch such as this.

No moment of clarity,

No respite.

“Oh Lord forgive me

If I spoke too much.”

Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop.

Shocked he acts as though the climax

Is a gift…done.

Caressed me

Every inch, centimeter, crevice

On her poor broken body explored,

Ruined.

Disgusted she glimpses her new self in the mirror.

And tries to scream…

Ashes flow freely from her mouth.

Coating her body in the grey area,

Where up and down are questionable.

She views herself in the third person

Her legs look different

Her arms look different

Her hands, face, feet, look different.

Her breasts are no longer hers,

No longer special, unique,

-a gift morphed into a curse-.

Someone once told her

She had the sexiest belly

Now she wants to tear

At the very same flesh.

Cover herself with her hidden scars

So everyone will know she is unclean.

So no-one will want her again-

So she will never be powerless-

So she will never be forced to explain.

Ashes, ashes

Smoke into fire

Acid and live flesh

Gritty eyes and blood

Double, double

Toil and her trouble

Her cauldron burns-

Her cauldron bubbles.

This is my first and as of late only sonnet.

I have nothing but respect for all those writers out there who toil over these!!

“A Song for Him, Who Never Called”

I swear I did not sit by the phone, wait

maybe it was only for an hour, or

yeah I did check my messages two, or

twenty times, I, I am losing face, wait

How many times should I let you vex, tread

On My Life, trampling my respect, my pride

I remembered famous lines of love, war

Hell hath no fury as this woman scorned!

Breathing, drinking vodka straight, lone, ireful

your face would be sorely missed amidst mine,

But no regret could make me turn around

You have made forgetting us effortless

And, I realized that it enraged me

And, I realized that I engaged me

Writers : Tesla

Title : “Signs”

And the sign said “Long-haired freaky people need not apply”
So I tucked my hair up under my hat and I went in to ask him why He said “You look like a fine upstanding young man, I think you’ll do” So I took off my hat, I said “Imagine that. Huh! Me workin’ for you!”

Sign, sign, everywhere a sign Blockin’ out the scenery, breakin’ my mind Do this, don’t do that, can’t you read the sign? And the sign said anybody caught trespassin’ would be shot on sight So I jumped on the fence and-a yelled at the house, “Hey! What gives you the right?” “To put up a fence to keep me out or to keep mother nature in” “If God was here he’d tell you to your face, Man, you’re some kinda sinner”

Sign, sign, everywhere a sign
Blockin’ out the scenery, breakin’ my mind
Do this, don’t do that, can’t you read the sign?

Now, hey you, mister, can’t you read You’ve got to have a shirt and tie to get a seat You can’t even watch, no you can’t eat You ain’t supposed to be here The sign said you got to have a membership card to get inside

And the sign said, “Everybody welcome. Come in, kneel down and pray” But when they passed around the plate at the end of it all, I didn’t have a penny to pay So I got me a pen and a paper and I made up my own little sign I said, “Thank you, Lord, for thinkin’ ’bout me. I’m alive and doin’ fine.”

Sign, sign, everywhere a sign
Blockin’ out the scenery, breakin’ my mind Do this, don’t do that, can’t you read the sign?

Sign, sign, everywhere a sign

Yo.

Whats up internet.  I am T, and I like music. 

Today we’ll be on some old stuff.
So….

I like Reggae. A lot. It’s the most positive music on the planet, yet it deals
with some of the hardest subject matter. 

I bring you my personal favorite reggae artist, Peter Tosh. The Toughest. 

I recommend the album, “Live @ the One Love Peace Concert.”  Why?

Because it is the greatest reggae performance from a musical and cultural standpoint.  Because his Word, Sound, and Power is in full effect. Thats Al Anderson(the Wailers guitarist), and Sly & Robbie (drum and bass for about 80% of all reggae singles in the 70s, 80s, and 90s). 

Because where on that day Bob stayed away from any political songs in his set later that night, Peter came on stage and played songs “400 years” “Equal Rights” even though, or arguably because, the Jamaican president and both political parties were sitting front row and center.

Seriously, check it out. You won’t be Dissapointed.

Artist: Peter Tosh
Album: Live at the One Love Peace Concert
Linkage:http://www.amazon.com/Live-One-Love-Peace-Concert/dp/B00004U018 
        

I’ll be back next week with something totally different.

Peace