A-FLAT

[Verse One]

The heritage of our unborn generation is something else

With all the blessings & gifts, wealth, tech innovations

There's a curse in the combination of their traits, DNA, RNA,

Still there's room big enough to entertain further mutation, perversion, aberration.

Souring of this age didn't begin today.

It shares the same birthday with Adam & Eve after the fall

Permit me if today's not Sunday

I preach to no choir but listen to my sketch book

The art is about my date because she affects us all

She's short, she's tall

She's big, she's small

She's hood, she's royal

She's barbie, she's a frog

I love her than mom

To she I'm a monk

I love her than mom

To she I'm a monk

It's sad to see this part of me

denying this fact like Sadducees

Not hard to see my love is real,

sound argument not fallacy

Shun philosophy,

with all of me,

I love you real no Pharisee

Bad to see my nightmare coming to reality you're gone with him

[Verse Two]

Time to unpack the words I travelled so long with this broken heart in my back pack

Though you lack facts, your new love, old love is nothing more than a fat brat

Let's rewind, your love is flawless, morning star, humble to a KING's smile.

Literally, musically, spiritually, he's a god in his primetime

After that, pride came immersed him,

aftermath, lucifer morning star

Became a fallen star where's the kappa at?

At the bottom resentful, vengeful cooking a planned attack

like cat attack,

coup coup coup counter attack

Failed the coup, turned one third to demons, collateral damage, savage

It's impossible, it's fictional, infeasible, make-believe,

delusional, improbable.

Then proposers go;

It's factual, actual, literally happened, veritable,

unquestionable, truthfully credible, on the level.

On & on & on & on the debate goes

Nobody wins no trophy prize

Till there's a point to compromise

Maybe a new red hot topic to philosophise

But this is what my love has cost us,

Soundtrack of life, solace to billions

What's life without her

So being molested, abused & misused

By some so this is the fruit of her womb

Perverse generation that dare not be accused.

Too loose for rules.

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[Endnote]

Thunderous thanks to Black Violin. These men are geniuses, their blend of classical sound and hip hop on their "Classical Trained" album is truly a classical masterpiece. One of their tracks, "A-Flat" inspired this poem. Thanks again.