#c-mo

Blac Youngsta Continues “F*ck Everybody 2” Push With “901” Video

Blac Youngsta comes through with “901” video.

The very end of August marked the arrival of Blac Youngsta’s Fuck Everybody 2 tape, the follow up to 2016’s Fuck Everybody. Naturally, the effort was host to a number of bass-laden cuts, catchy hooks, and at times, hilarious lyrics that Youngsta is now known for. Previously supplementing the project with a video for…

Cuz it's made from pure meat.

Crushed cans and lace form a mane

of reused fashion for the Queen.

Slender and sticky,

not much breezes by in a world without air.

Compressed, we zip tight and bear the cross of those who have gone before us.

Scorned lovers, happy endings, ever after,

unexplained and wholly unscathed.

Pearls and a longing imagination

are scattered on the floor haphazard.

Setting up the mousetrap is half the game.

Gritty on the teeth,

wanting nothing more than to

ignore concrete and embrace the hourglass.

Salty, fresh, unwounded, but flinching.

Restore the glory of a luster lost.

A dulcimer tones on the throbbing of a heart,

of a headache,

- trying to comprehend why we want the things we seek.

Who can catch every butterfly?

Who wants to?

If we gather up the ingredients of a perfect potion,

where will the imperfection seek to reside?

A single grain starts the form.

Imperfection leads to the gem,

so love me.

Not every puzzle has all it's pieces,

Sepia wonders burn in the trashcan corner.

We solder broken bits of ourselves

together, patching, toiling.

Some other worldly traveler

will share in the beauty of our secondhand art.

Are you mine?

Flames and moths aren't friends,

they're fate.

Chains of charm and pristine smiles,

photo-shop the soul in search of candied attention.

A sweet tooth never sank a ship,

but it's drown many a captain.

Smack the iceberg headlong,

Water beats iron in the long run.

Trust your tanks to hold a party in your honor.

Most sea birds who fly can too swim,

yet fish rarely take the sky.

A fading memory was once your life.

What do you want to fade in the future?

I love you- is never said the same way twice,

and lightning is a storm.

Do you hear it?

Is it...?

Thirsty skin breathes deep.

Come, dance in the rain with me.

We sit, drooped over,

bearded and peering downward

into light that expands our minds.

Wise are we with connections.

Narrowing our search,

reaching out for friends

without digits to hold them close.

Sex, smoke, booze and fear of dying,

twisted beautiful

-blown glass masques to suit each profile.

A pastiche of the new young whatevers.

Intricate to a fault,

apathetic as an art form.

Without hope there is no change,

but will change provide us shelter?

Thick framed minds need food,

but from this craggy soil,

no manna from the rock.

Unwilling to work,

laboring twice as hard to make excuses

-seeking justice for what is deemed unfair.

The ghosts of revolutionaries cry,

spinning tears in their shallow graves

for the inertia bound doldrums in which we languish.

Maybe those drops can form springs?

Do the steps cast down before us mean nothing?

Clicks decide our fate,

Paparazzi in the hall.

Mourning kaput pop-stars

wondering -where did they go wrong?

And what of us?

When we fall fatal to this disease of inaction,

who will be our adoring fans?

Are they waiting in the wings?

I think not.

And as self esteem slips off the table

and oozes down the sewer vent,

may we remember this one truth

all that was ever achieved was fought for.

Not in war and peace,

but in overcoming and rising above.

Fight with fists and brains,

not with guns and mirrors.

About talent?

Abundant.

About thought?

Plenty.

About time?

Now.

And not a second too soon.

Work the land,

Shave the beard,

stand from the light in your lap

and go forth beautifully.

A C-Mo Original