You wanna hear me speak?
Wanna check if I’m weak?
I confess. I’m afraid. I do not know how to begin.
There is a perilous path ahead of me.
I know where I am heading to (finally) but the glimmer of hope is a distant burning match stick floating in a vacuüm of dark nothingness.
My memories act like a map, it will be the source of my final escape from this time loop.
Endless cycle of the mundane emotional human predicaments.
Like a snake eating its tail, I’m constantly stuck in the regeneration of myself.
Still holding on to the thought of that hope.
Home. Comfort. Her.
I’ve to keep going. No matter how long. No matter what it takes. No matter the cost.
The first layer of the diamond is eternal. But bless the bird that chips it away.
Fly you fools. It’s the only way.
The last time these inks run free with the emotions of this human body that this pen rides on was quite a while ago.
Time distorts. Relativity aint the reason. It’s a way of life.
Mentally projecting the vision of what we love to do is tiring when internally there is frictions between the gears of this sailing castle.
Truth is jumbled. Lies are spices.
This is not what I expected from this expedition.
So much changes, so little time to digest and reflect upon.
She is there. He is here.
They need me. I want her.
I want them. I need this.
God is spying on my mind and weeps in laughter at my plans.
This is how I will end.
Burning Bright.
Black Morning Light.
Burning out.
Nuke this place and leave no trace.
Let them forget how I change the game.
Fuck Fame.
I will always be lame.
I’ll never be the same.
Help me, Jane.
Should I implode? Or explode?
Over loading. Overwhelming.
Over dosing. Over.
Over the edge.
There is no point in returning.
No point to turn back.
It’s all right Jack.
I’ve seen the cracks.
Those words are sweet.
Like the shoes of a politician’s feet.
Listen to the street.
There is a ball of confusion.
It’s time to take that potion.
Cause they making us put on that lotion.
I aint no victim.
Time to hit ‘em.
There is a constant cycle to the rhythm on the streets,
You can tell I feel the force from the kicks of these feet,
A rabbit bitten sandal is a foolish look on any book,
But watch those stares cause these hands are filled with hooks,
Right and left, you better not test,
I got that kerambit that will make it lit,
Show you the history lesson of that Silat fit…..
Ness – I am not joking,
A Jailhouse Boxing,
taught by a zen king,
His name was Ra.
Almighty the funk monk. RA…WR!!
Fafa got me thinking I could be a better Muslim,
Intellectual, Spiritual, she can really make your head spin,
My little sister wanna make me live my life by the words of Malcolm X,
I feel you niggas so don’t take this as a disrespect,
I know what it’s like having knives stuck on your back,
But never push that crack,
You know there is no turning back,
It’s not alright Jack.
You got me playing Toby,
Servicing for the Arts, – by pleasing everybody,
Now i am out after my own Heart, – and you will see dead bodies.
A man is should only be violence when an offence is made on his woman,
A Muslim Man would kill for our woman.
But hey man,
It’s all fun and games,
Love is nothing but a chemicals in the brain,
And sex is just to heal the pain,
But the train has it’s stops
and you could feel that heat
when we make that beat drop,
Round and round it goes,
Follow the beats of the tempo,
This is the wheel of life and that’s just how it goes.
One Minut Init is up, then another it blows.
But Hey Joe,
Don’t run with that gun in your hand,
I know your woman been sleeping around with another man,
But that ain’t part of the plan.
Remember that game son.
Don’t let that karma get your philosophy be undone,
Nah-Nothing is new under the sun,
Things just happen when you’re having fun.
You know that too when you had another bitch on your tongue.
Forgive her and just move on.
As how you wished she did when you shared your confessions,
– These are my confessions,
Just when I thought I said all I could say
My chick on the side said why don’t we just runaway,
But I am tired of just running away,
Cause these Angels are always flying away,
Leaving me with only their memories to stay,
What can I say – they all just thought I was gay,
But an Alien with a Top Hat is not a stray,
Maybe I ain’t a gangsta like Shaolin,
But I can write some bars that’s ILL-in,
And I aim to make some white folks killins,
The name is Nuke Abe,
That’s A-to the-B-to the-E,
Just another homie with ambitions of being an Emcee,
May not be the smoothest muthafuka in here – but I am going overseas,
With nothing but Art and a dream.
Where will I be. Another wannabe in Berlin?
Und Ich Sag “Nein.”
Eight. Seven.
7 investors and all of them are calling the shots.
Why don’t you all find a comfy spot.
This might take a minute.
Cause when it comes to the abstract avantgarde concepts, You can always count on Minut, Init.
Ain’t it, ironic, bionic, supersonic,
His head is on chronic,
Everything is so catatonic.
Bartender give me, One more Gin and Tonic.
I’ve taken many types of substances, met all type of personalities from all walks of life.
From those who bought heroin for Iggy Pop in Iceland, to those who went to the same high school parties with Drake. From an Italian nun who reminds me what a beautiful soul should be treated with nothing but kindness to a Russian Britney who is aggressive in affirming her stances. From a Deutsche lady hiding in Ibiza, to a Syrian refugee hiding in Berlin. From a Brazilian wanderlust amigo to Brothers representing Altanta, Cleveland and Texas. From a clumsy Danish girl, to the always hungry skinny Dutch girl. From a Red Head American to a Salsa Filipino. From a Scuito to a photographer Lesbo. From a black korean girl to a Finnish pancake that leaves a sweet after taste. From an Austrian designer, to a sketchy pornstache Kiwi who apparently took over my role.
Remember them. Remember them all.
All is good. All is true. All is me.
(Minut Init : The Human Sacrifice Project by Nazreen Abraham Stein)
You live for the good of both,
– Your own, the other’s –
When, knowing the other’s provoked.
You mindfully grow calm.When you work the cure of both,
– Your own, the other’s –
Those who think you’re a fool,
Knows nothing of Dhamma.
Nazreen Abraham Stein. The Profound Commander.
Nazreen Abraham. The Foolish Warrior.
Nazreen Stein. The Quiet Ninja.
Nazreen. The Unlucky Specialist.
Abraham. The Scratchin’ Menance.
Stein. The Mad Contender.
Nobody.
Zero Ducks Given 